The Morning Everything Felt Different
Parenthood rewires your brain.
Suddenly, a text left on “read” feels like a warning sign. A whispered phone call behind a closed door becomes a mystery to solve. And sometimes, a handful of unexplained white fragments under a teenager’s bed can send your heart racing faster than any horror movie.
That’s exactly what happened to me last Tuesday.
I was doing what parents do—tidying up, gathering laundry, trying to create order in the beautiful chaos of a teen’s bedroom. Clothes everywhere. Posters peeling at the
