One year later…
In a small, cozy house in the suburbs of New York, the morning sunlight crept in slow through the blinds. Inside, the place was still — quiet enough to fool anyone into thinking the world had stopped moving.
Robert lay motionless, body drained, like the life had been worked out of him. He wasn't asleep so much as collapsed. His body felt heavy, like it had been holding everything in for too long. The alarm on his phone buzzed beside him. Normally, it would've had him sitting upright in seconds. Today, he barely raised a hand to silence it. No rush. No reflex. Just silence and the kind of exhaustion that didn't fade with rest.
Nicole was already up.
She moved quietly, careful not to wake him, her steps soft and practiced. The curtains were cracked just enough for a strip of light to come in, so she walked over and pulled them tighter. No need to let it shine on his face. He'd only gotten in around three. Maybe later. She hadn't even asked this time.
Just listened to the door creak open, the tired shuffle through the hallway, and the sigh that came when he hit the mattress.
He was still now. Mouth open a little. Chest rising slow and even. She looked at him for a second longer.
Let him sleep, she thought.
She pulled the bedroom door shut behind her and stepped out into the hallway. The house stayed quiet. That peaceful kind of quiet that only lasted a few more minutes before everything shifted.
She checked in on Gabriel first.
Sixteen, growing taller by the week, and knocked out cold across the bed. One arm off the side, braids sprawled across the pillow, the covers kicked off and hanging halfway to the floor. He looked like he'd fallen from the sky and landed face-first into a nap.
Nicole knocked the headboard.
"Time to get up."
Gabriel groaned without lifting his head.
Nope. She wasn't playing this morning. She grabbed his wrist and gave a firm tug until he started sliding off the bed.
"Mom—come on."
"You're already late," she said, not stopping.
She dragged his half-sleeping body down the hall to Daniel's room. Daniel was thirteen, but still wrapped up like he was six. Blanket pulled over his head, afro sticking out the top like it was trying to breathe without him. He didn't budge.
Nicole didn't pause. "Gabriel, wake him up. Both of you — I want movement in five minutes."
She turned and made her way downstairs.
In the kitchen, everything waited just where she left it — the fridge humming quietly, pans stacked by the stove. She pulled out the eggs, grabbed the pancake batter she'd mixed the night before, and started heating the skillet.
But something didn't feel right.
It was too quiet.
"They better not have gone back to sleep," she muttered.
She turned off the stove and walked back up.
Sure enough, Gabriel had climbed right back into bed with Daniel, both of them knocked out again like nothing ever happened.
"You've got to be kidding me."
She leaned against the doorway, hit the light, and knocked on the frame.
"This is the third time I've come in here."
Still no movement.
She stepped inside, tapped the end of the bed.
"I said get up. School doesn't care if you're still dreaming."
Gabriel groaned something that wasn't even words. Daniel stayed wrapped up in his blanket like he hadn't heard a thing.
Nicole didn't wait around for a reply.
"Alright. That's it," she said, turning and walking out.
Back in the kitchen, she dropped the butter into the pan. It hissed and melted fast. She cracked six eggs into a bowl and whisked them quickly. The pancakes were ready to flip, and the bacon was already sizzling in the second pan. The smell started rising, filling the house like bait.
If yelling didn't work, food would.
She gave it one last shot from the hallway.
"Gabriel. Daniel. I'm not coming up a fourth time."
A muffled voice called back, "Too late. You already came up three times."
Nicole folded her arms. "Next time, I'm coming with a bucket of cold water."
Daniel's head peeked out from under the blanket, his afro even more lopsided than before.
"What day is it?"
"Tuesday."
"Ugh."
"That's a noise, not movement. Get up. And be quiet — your dad's still sleeping."
"Yes, Mom," they said at the same time.
Nicole shook her head, lips twitching. As much as they tested her, it was part of the rhythm now.
She flipped the pancakes. They came out fluffy and just the way they liked them. The eggs went in next, sizzling on contact. Behind her, the coffee machine beeped. She poured herself a mug, took a sip, then rinsed the cup right away before either of the boys could try and sneak a taste.
Then she paused, hand still on the sink.
She hated lying for him. But she hated the truth even more.
Upstairs, the usual chaos finally kicked in. Slamming drawers. Feet running back and forth. One of them spraying deodorant like it was cologne.
Gabriel came down first. Shirtless, braids tied back, eyes half-closed. He dropped into a chair like the weight of the day was already sitting on him.
"You came in three times," he muttered.
Nicole raised a brow. "And the fourth was your final warning."
Daniel followed a moment later, dragging his feet and scratching at his flattened hair.
"Morning," she said, placing their plates down.
"Mornin'," they both mumbled, already focused on the food. Pancakes disappeared fast, bacon gone even faster. Syrup was everywhere.
"Keep it down. Let your dad rest."
Gabriel chewed slower this time. "Why's he still in bed though? Ain't he usually out by now?"
"He's tired," Nicole answered, not looking up.
"Since when is tired a reason to skip the lab?" Gabriel asked through a mouthful.
Daniel laughed mid-sip and choked on his juice, coughing it out across the table.
Nicole handed him some paper towels. "Clean that."
Gabriel chuckled, then said, "Nah, but for real — he hasn't sat down for breakfast in, like, five months. This is rare."
He was smiling, but it didn't touch his eyes. Daniel looked the same — quiet, cleaning, pretending like it didn't get to him.
Nicole didn't respond right away.
"He wants to be here," she said quietly. "He just gets caught up."
Neither of them replied.
"Alright. Finish up. You're running late."
She stood by the counter, arms crossed, watching them eat like they were racing the clock. She packed two brown paper bags with sandwiches and slid them across the table.
"Chew. Don't inhale. I'm not trying to do the Heimlich today."
Daniel grinned. "Sorry, Mom. It's just really good."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You say that every morning."
"Because it's true every morning," Daniel shot back.
"Gabriel — watch your mouth. Daniel — thank you."
The bickering filled the space like background noise, and for a moment, the house felt normal again.
Once the last bites were gone and the juice cups were empty, Nicole wiped down the table while they rushed upstairs to throw on clothes.
"You're cutting it close!" she called up.
She looked out the window. Sun was out now, washing over the street. She opened the garage. The boys' bikes were still leaning against the wall, just where they'd left them.
A minute later, they came running down the stairs. Gabriel was first, wheeling his bike out fast. Nicole stepped in front of him.
"Hold up. Keep an eye on your brother today."
Gabriel looked at her, annoyed. "He's thirteen, not five."
"He's your brother. Just make sure he gets there in one piece."
Daniel groaned. "I'm not gonna get in trouble."
Nicole raised a brow. "You almost crashed last week racing Evan down that hill."
"That was one time!"
"And the rope swing you made out of junk? You nearly lost your front teeth."
"Mom! That was years ago!"
"I was nine."
"And you're still my baby."