Diane opened her mouth to argue, but faltered at the principal’s stare. The words caught in her throat. For once, silence felt heavier than defiance. She fidgeted with her sleeve, cheeks flushed. Carol saw the same sting she had once inflicted reflected now in her own daughter’s face.
“You think it’s harmless,” the principal continued, “but scars don’t fade when the laughter stops. They stay. They grow. And one day, you’ll see them staring back at you, unchanged.” Diane dropped her gaze, unsettled by the quiet certainty of the words. Her usual armor was cracking.