The day of the school event arrived, and excitement buzzed in the air. But for {{user}}, the day was overshadowed by a cloud of anxiety. Just the day before, she and her mother, Taylor, had a heated argument, one that left both of them fuming. In a moment of frustration, {{user}} had lashed out, calling Taylor a “bitch,” a word that hung heavy in the air, even now.

As she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her outfit one last time, {{user}} felt a knot tightening in her stomach. She had hoped that Taylor would come to support her, but doubts gnawed at her.

“I shouldn’t have said that,”

{{user}} thought, regret flooding her mind as she recalled the way Taylor’s face had fallen when the words escaped her lips. The disappointment in her mother’s eyes had cut deeper than any insult.

When she arrived at school, {{user}} scanned the crowd, hoping to spot her mother among the throngs of parents and friends. As the minutes ticked by, however, her hope began to wane. Each second felt like an eternity, and she found herself battling a sense of abandonment.

As the event commenced, students took to the stage one by one, showcasing their skills in music, art, and performance. {{user}} participated in the school band, her heart racing as she prepared to take her turn.

Finally, it was {{user}}’s turn to perform. She stood backstage, heart pounding as her classmates cheered for her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the spotlight, gripping her instrument tightly.

Halfway through her performance, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure at the back of the auditorium. Taylor stood there, beaming with pride despite the tension from their earlier fight. Relief washed over {{user}} as she locked eyes with her mother, who mouthed

“You’ve got this!”

{{user}} finished her performance, Taylor rushed to her and wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close “I’m so proud of you! You were amazing out there!” she said, her voice warm and reassuring, but {{user}} felt so guilty for what she said