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That morning began like every other — soft sunlight through the kitchen window, the smell of toast, the hum of a normal life I thought would never change.
My six-year-old daughter, Emily, sat at the table with her sketchpad, humming as I packed her lunch. She slipped the pad into her backpack, kissed me goodbye, and climbed onto the yellow school bus. I waved as it drove away, never imagining that in just a few hours, my world would unravel.
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