Claire carried the weight of the household on her shoulders while her husband, Ryan, kept his distance from daily responsibilities. Exhausted and frustrated, she finally decided to carve out a day for herself, leaving their daughter in his care. For the first time in months, she let the sound of ocean waves ease her mind—until her phone lit up with repeated missed calls from the school.
A knot formed in her stomach. Something had gone wrong, and she wasn’t there. Claire Bennett stood in the kitchen, moving frantically between the counter and the stove.
The smell of burnt toast lingered in the air like a punishment for her oversleeping. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and groaned—it was already past seven-thirty. “Great,” she muttered under her breath.
“We’re already late.”
Upstairs, she could still hear the steady, rumbling snores of her husband, Ryan. She had nudged him awake twice that morning, but he had rolled over both times, mumbling something about “just five more minutes.” Those five minutes had stretched into half an hour, leaving Claire scrambling to do everything herself. She pulled the charred bread out of the toaster and tossed it into the sink.
Without missing a beat, she cracked a couple of eggs into a frying pan. But in her rush, she turned the heat too high. The eggs went from sizzling to smoking in a matter of seconds.
She groaned and yanked the pan off the burner. The shrill sound of her alarm—set as a backup reminder—suddenly blared again, startling her. She spun around too quickly, elbowing her half-full coffee cup.
Hot liquid splashed onto her arm, stinging her skin. “Damn it!” she yelped, grabbing a dish towel and blotting at her sleeve. There was no time to cry over ruined breakfast or burnt skin.
She had a seven-year-old daughter to wake, feed, and get to school. Tossing the towel onto the counter, Claire raced upstairs and pushed open the door to her daughter’s room. “Emily, sweetheart,” Claire said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She brushed a lock of hair from her daughter’s face and shook her shoulder gently. “It’s time to get up.”
Emily groaned and rolled away from her, pulling the blanket over her head. “Come on, honey,” Claire coaxed, lifting her into her arms.
Emily was still half-asleep, her small arms limp around her mother’s neck. Claire carried her into the bathroom and set her on the stool in front of the sink. As Emily rubbed her eyes, Claire turned on the faucet, helping her wash her face and brush her teeth.
Claire caught sight of herself in the mirror: her hair sticking up in every direction, dark circles under her eyes, and a large coffee stain smeared across her pajama shirt. She looked like she had been through a storm. With Emily reluctantly following her, Claire made her way to the bedroom.
She nudged the door open with her foot and saw Ryan still sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. “Ryan,” she said sharply. “I’m running late.
Emily’s going to be late for school. Can you please get up and help me?”
Ryan grunted, shifted slightly, and buried his face deeper into the pillow. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
