Her son’s breath wasn’t just a sound; it was a siren. The room went still, then snapped back into its practiced cruelty. Jokes sharpened, glances slid away, and the story began rewriting itself before he’d even stood up. She watched them polish his fear into another charming family anecdote, felt herself shrinking as the laughter swelled, her protest dismissed as drama, her instincts carved down to si… Continues…
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