I rub at my eyes and glance at the clock. 10:42 PM.
I know she will be fine, technically. But as I glance at the wall calendar in the kitchen, the weight of those missed moments grows. Each circled date, already starting to smudge from Harper’s little hands eagerly counting down to each event, marks a memory I don’t want to miss. In that unspoken way that they silently tally the sacrifices I’m being asked to make.
I scroll through my phone without thinking. Hunter’s name. Cami’s. Then Dani’s.
Her name makes me pause.
I can still hear her laugh, bright and unguarded, echoing through my kitchen a week ago when Harper spilled milkshakeall over the counter. The way she saidyou’re good with her,like it was a fact, not a question.
I stare at the past messages for a moment, thumb hovering. I don’t know how to explain this kind of exhaustion. It’s not about sleep, but about the constant weight of being the one who has to hold it all together. My mind spins, words form and dissolve, leaving only a half-thought hanging in the void.
But somehow, I feel like she’d understand.
Instead, I hesitate, then set the phone down. I’m not about to tell a girl who’s practically a stranger that the look in my daughter’s eyes when she saidyou promised is destroying me.
I glance down the hallway toward her room. The soft glow of her night-light paints the doorway, her small silhouette curled under the blanket.
“I’ll figure it out,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone.
I always do.
Tomorrow, I’ll start making calls and exploring every available option. I owe it to Harper to try to maintain the stability we’d created.
Chapter 9
Dani
It was supposed to be an easy night.
For once, I’d actually finished work before ten. My inbox was empty, and I poured a glass of wine, determined not to think about case law or unpaid overtime. Candlelight flickered on the counter, while my indie playlist hummed, and rain muted the city beyond my window.
I was halfway through a mindless reality TV show when my phone buzzed across the coffee table.
Incoming FaceTime: Harper’s iPad.
I blinked.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Harper to call me; she’d FaceTimed me twice this week since adding my contact to her iPad: once to show off her glittery shoes for dance class, and again to introduce me to her goldfish. But this was later than usual, and the second I saw her name light up, a slight twinge of worry threaded through the peace.
I swiped to answer, expecting her usual burst of energy.
Instead, the screen jostled with frantic, trembling movement, blurred shapes darting past, intensifying the muffled sounds of raw, messy crying—until Harper’s little face, streaked deep red and glistening wet with tears, suddenly filled the view.
“Hi, Ms. Dani.”
My stomach dropped. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”
She sniffled hard, clutching the iPad with both hands so close that her curls half-covered the camera. “Daddy’s leaving.”
“What?”
Her voice cracked. “He said he has to go to work again. For two whole weeks.” She said, stumbling over her words.
I was trying to keep up with what she was saying, but I was also very confused.
I sat up straighter, every protective instinct I didn’t even know I had lighting up at once. “Oh, honey,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”
Her lip trembled. “He said he didn’t want to, but hehasto. I don’t want him to go.”
