🔔 Trigger warning: This chapter could be triggering to people who are sensitive to the subject of depression. Please be aware while reading. 🔔

The sun shone through the window, throwing its rays like daggers to my chest causing it to contract in pain.
My heart sunk due to the disappointment of witnessing yet another morning.

I groaned, shutting my eyes tight. I turned to the right, whining as an unexplainable lump formed in my throat.

I don’t want to wake up.

I reached through the empty bed for Adam’s pillow and dropped it over my face. His scent invaded my nostrils like an unwelcomed reminder of why I hated my life.

I’m not ready to live. If I can just sleep and never wake up again.

I slipped into oblivion, but soon came back to reality. My body was relaxed, but my mood was as sombre as ever. I hated that no matter how much I slept it always felt like a minute.

I threw the pillow to the side and kicked the covers off of me. I lay there, looking at the blank ceiling.

How hard is it to get up from my bed?
Ugh, I hate my life.

I remained sprawled, summoning a power I didn’t have, or maybe waiting for a miracle to send me into my day.
My chest grew heavy with every passing second of hollowness. I knew nothing would happen, but I still hoped. My wishful thoughts led to my frustration.

I hate my life.

I turned on my side, dangling my feet over my slippers. If I’d extend my leg I’d touch it, but that seemed like a heavy task. So, I lay there, looking at my lemon green nails. I couldn’t find any of the happiness I felt yesterday.

I need to wake up, but...I still can sleep a little more.

The idea was very tempting. I didn't even see any point in waking up. I stared at the petrol blue wall, waiting for the sleep to take me.

The door banged against the wall, jerking me out of my hypnagogia. My confused gaze met a happy face that matched the sing-sang voice.

“Mama.”

I looked at her with a blank face as Jenna crawled on the bed and hugged me.

“Are you awake?”

She grinned at me, her baby teeth on display. Her little nose crinkled along with her eyes that twinkled from under her half-closed eyelids.

Only a child can be this happy for no reason.

I couldn’t share her enthusiasm for life. I couldn’t even fake it. Another bang of disappointment hit me. She deserved better, but here she was stuck with me.

“I am now.”

I patted her crazy brown hair that reached past her shoulders. I could only imagine how my hair looked like.

“I’m hungry.”

I sagged back into my pillow, a long sigh leaving my lips.

“Of course, you are.”

I had to feed her, clean her up, play with her, feed her again. Said food had to be cooked while I was playing with her. By what sorcery? I’d no idea. Add to that the cleaning. Of course, it’d to be done in parallel.

I Hate. My. Life. I thought, hitting my head on the pillow with every word.
“It’s dark under your eyes.”

My head froze mid-air, and I looked at her, knitting my eyebrows. I didn’t need that remark.

“Way to make me feel good about myself.”

I leaned on my elbows as she squinted her eyes. Her little face invading my personal space.

“You have something,” she said. Her voice was chirpy like that time when she found a sticky old candy somewhere and ran to show it to me.

I don’t like where this is going.

“Where?”

“Here, you have one, two chins” she said, poking me.

“That’s it. Get up. Let’s go eat.” I swatted her hand, and sprang on my feet.

“Mama, Mama. I want croissant,” she said, bouncing on the bed, hair flying around her face.

I smiled at her cute little self. It was refreshing to see how she could find joy in the most insignificant things. I was glad that I had some croissants in the freezer, waiting to be cooked. I made them a while ago for days like these.

“If you drink your milk, I’ll make you some.”

“Okay.” She shouted, jumping to the floor. She ran to the open door, shrieking, and my chest swelled with love.

Well, that's my miracle right there.

I shuffled behind her as I fought the invisible power pulling me towards the floor, making my limbs heavy. I’d be easier if I went back to bed.

Jenna was jumping in place, waiting for me at the end of the corridor. I knew I had no option but to go forward.

“Come on, Mama.” She was still jumping, and I felt like I might get dizzy. We reached the living room as the front door opened and in came Adam in all his glory with a blue faded jeans and a black shirt.

“Baba,” Jenna shouted and ran to her father in a fit of giggles.

He smiled and crouched down, opening his arms to hug her. The collar of his shirt opened, showing his silver necklace. I liked that chain, and he seemed to do too because he never took it off.

He looked at me, still wearing his sun glasses and said, “Good morning.”

I was about to answer when the reflection on his glasses caught my eyes. My hair was wide and tangled. I did have dark circles under my eyes. My clothes were crumbled. My shorts’ leg was rolled up.

Thanks to my genes, Jenna didn’t look any better. Her hair was wider than her shoulders. However, she pulled the messy look better than I.

I looked at him again, now standing with Jenna in his arms and a white bag in his hand.

Well, who’s the caveman now?

“Good morning,” I said, not meeting his eyes. I pulled my shorts’ leg down, but it stuck between my thighs. I turned towards the kitchen, hiding my embarrassment.

“I bought us breakfast.”

“Jenna wants croissant, I was about to make some.”

“I bought croissant. I promised her when she saw them in the freezer that I’ll buy her some today.”

“Oh, how did she saw them in there?”

“She wanted to chose her ice-crea—”

I stopped on my tracks. Our gazes met in a staring contest. I knew that he knew that he messed up. I also knew he was not the least sorry about it.
I shifted to the side making some room for them to enter the kitchen. I sent a fake smile to Jenna, then whisper shouted in his ear as he passed next to me.

“Why do you always do that? I told you, you can’t give her ice-cream at night.”

I didn’t want her to hear me because we agreed to work as a team to parent her, or at least to seem like one, leaving her out of our disagreements.

I glared at him as I went to fix us some coffee.

He didn’t answer, of course. He busied himself with placing Jenna on the chair and the bag on the table. A slight frown appeared between his eyebrows as he took a hairband from his pocket and fumbled to tie her hair.
An involuntary smile tugged at my lips, and I turned away to bring the milk from the fridge.

How sweet is that? I wonder how many hairbands he has in his pocket.

At least he would take care of her if anything happened to me. The thought succeeded to wipe the smile off of my face as the familiar tightness crashed my ribs.

I know they’re better without me.

I took a deep breath and listened to their conversation as he placed the bag’s content on a plate. He was patient with her, but she surely was winning over him.

“No croissant until you drink your milk, Jenna,” I said as I placed the milk in front of her and she didn’t waste a second to gulp it.

I patted myself on the shoulder for my amazing parenting skills.

Satisfied, I poured our coffees and we ate our breakfast in a comfortable silence.

I meant the first second was in silence, then Jenna opened her mouth and a headache started to form.

“I’m drinking my milk,” she said for no reason at all.

“Good girl.” I faked an encouraging smile.

“Mom, look. I've a bubble in my milk.”

I peeked in her cup, raising my eyebrows.

“Oh, you do.”

“Baba, when I finish my milk, I’ll eat the croissant.” She pointed to her cup and then the plate.

I swear she’ll spill the milk if she doesn’t stop moving.

“Great, finish up then.”

“Mom—”

“Jenna, please. Just finish your cup.” I blurted as the tightness in my head got the best of me.

Too much for my amazing parenting skills.

An awkward silence settled between us. I couldn’t look at any of them, but his confused gaze burned the side of my face. These outbursts were getting worse and anything could tick me off.

Adam cleared his throat a few times, shifting on his chair, then talked.

“What’s your plan for the day?”

“Busy day. I have laundry to do, I have to clean the house, reorganise the closets, clean the bathroom...” I ended up listing every chore I was procrastinating to do.

“I want us to have lunch outside,” he said, looking at me.

Well, too bad I’m not in the mood to go out.

“Maybe another day. We have a drawing project we need to finish. Right, Jenna?” I smiled at my daughter, willing her to agree with me.

“Yes, the four seasons. I like Spring. What’s your favourite season, baba?” She asked, smiling at her dad with crumbs covering half of her face.

That’s my girl. I smirked into my coffee.

No second chances.