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Before I could answer, my mother rushed across the room and snatched the laptop from her hands. My father stood up so abruptly his chair struck the wall behind him.
Then came the sentence that shattered everything I thought I understood about my life:
No explanation.
No discussion.
Only panic disguised as anger.
I remember standing near the front door crying and asking what I had done wrong. Neither of them answered directly. They looked less like parents confronting a child and more like people terrified that something buried for decades had suddenly surfaced.
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