The night my life changed forever did not come with warning signs or dramatic music. It came quietly, wrapped in irritation, impatience, and a sentence that still echoes in my mind.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
She stood there stiffly, as if she were already halfway gone. One hand gripped a small, worn suitcase. The other pressed firmly against the back of her four-year-old son, Evan, pushing him forward toward me.
He nearly lost his balance.
His legs were weak, supported by braces, and he reached instinctively for my coat to keep himself upright. His grip was tight, desperate, like he already knew something terrible was happening.
Lila did not cry.
There were no tears.
No shaking voice.
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