The day came when the caseworker called again, their voice on the phone more urgent than before.
They asked to meet once more, the tone suggesting something significant had shifted.
I agreed, my mind racing with possibilities, each more daunting than the last.
In the days leading up to the meeting, I felt the weight of the decision I had to make.
To speak up or to remain silent, each path fraught with its own risks.
The meeting was set for the end of the week, and I prepared myself for what lay ahead.
On the day of the meeting, I dressed carefully, choosing clothes that felt like armor.
The bus ride to the office was quiet, my thoughts a whirl of anticipation and dread.
Stepping into the building, the air felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension.
The caseworker greeted me, their expression more guarded than before.
