I was behind the wheel on a cool autumn afternoon, the road seemed familiar — but something felt off. As I turned the corner, I saw the flash of children riding their bikes, but then I caught myself going the wrong way.
My heart pounded. “What’s happening?” I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. I couldn’t understand how I’d missed the signs, how my mind had slipped.
I parked the car, hands shaking, and looked around. The street was quiet now, but I knew something had gone terribly wrong.
That’s when my daughter called, her voice trembling over the phone. “Mom, we need to talk. This can’t go on like this.”
I didn’t know what she meant — not yet. But deep down, I felt the weight of it pressing down.
