Evenings stretch out long and silent, the air thick with unspoken words.
The TV flickers in the corner, a soft murmur trying to fill the void.
My daughter is asleep now, her small chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of dreams.
I sit in the dimly lit living room, my thoughts a tangled web of what-ifs and next steps.
The weight of the upcoming appointment presses down on me.
It’s a ticking clock, a reminder that decisions must be made.
And soon.
In these moments of solitude, I find clarity.
I know that my voice matters, that my concerns are not simply ‘drama’.
But it’s hard to shake the feeling of inadequacy that comes from being constantly undermined.
