The morning sun pressed through the curtains, filling the kitchen with a tired light. Alexa hovered by the sink, her hands braced against the cold countertop. The house felt hollow, each quiet minute echoing louder than any argument.
She stared into her untouched cup of tea, searching its surface for calm. Instead, she caught a glimpse of herself in the window's reflection. The lines around her eyes seemed deeper now. Behind her own image, ghosts of old dreams lingered… dreams that used to include Charles.
They had met in high school, all bright eyes and nervous laughter. Charles was magnetic then, bursting with life and big ideas. He carried Alexa through the halls, proud to have her hand in his. He told her they'd build a future together, that she was the only one who truly understood him. For years, she clung to that reassurance. In her mind, their love was different. Strong enough to last.
But somewhere along the way, words changed. Charles changed.
The shift came quietly, as it always does. One day he was late for their dinner date, offering half-hearted excuses. Another time, he forgot her birthday, dismissing it as no big deal. Eventually, impatience became the norm, tutting about the way she folded his shirts or how long she took to answer his messages. Public affection faded to cold indifference behind closed doors.
Alexa's cheeks still burned recalling the first time he really said something cruel. "Why do you always overreact?" he snapped, when she told him he was hurting her feelings. That was the start of many such phrases: "You're too sensitive." "Can't you ever be happy?" "Nothing I do is good enough for you." At first, she questioned herself. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was too much, too emotional, too needy, too serious about things that didn't matter.
But deep down, she knew that wasn't fair.
She reminded herself not to dwell. Charles's unpredictable moods kept her on high alert. She had learned how to make herself small, to avoid pressing his buttons. The smallest mistakes, forgetting to call, laughing too loudly, lingering too long with Yvonne, could set him off. Then came the ice: he would disappear into his phone, refuse to speak to her, or leave the apartment for hours.
Yvonne was the only warmth left in this place. With her, Alexa's heart softened. After her sister Miriam passed away, a sudden aneurysm that took her before anyone could say goodbye, Yvonne had come to live with Alexa. It was more than an obligation, it was the only light still burning in her world. Yvonne's tiny hands fit perfectly into hers, and Alexa did all she could to give the girl the comfort she herself no longer found.
Yvonne was ten now, brimming with questions and curiosity about the world. That morning at breakfast, she asked, "Auntie Lex, why do birds never get tired of singing?" There was something pure in her gaze, a hopefulness that Alexa fiercely wanted to protect. She knelt down, brushing a loose strand of Yvonne's hair behind her ear. "Maybe they sing so we remember the world is still beautiful," she said.
If there was any beauty left, it was because of Yvonne.
The day passed in a blur: packing school lunches, checking homework, glancing at her phone in dread of a message from Charles. His texts were growing colder now, clipped and suspicious. Whenever he stopped by after work, Yvonne made herself scarce, she had learned the moods too.
Around mid-morning, as Alexa folded laundry, the chest pain returned. Sharper this time, radiating down her left arm. She sat down heavily on the couch, breathing through it, waiting for it to pass. It did, eventually, but left her shaken and exhausted.
She'd had these episodes for some months now; occasional flutters, moments of breathlessness she had dismissed as anxiety. "You're just nervous, Alexa," she would tell herself. "Relax." So Alexa learned to ignore them, to push through, to assume it was stress or worry or her body's way of manifesting emotional pain.
But lately, the episodes were worse. More frequent. More intense. This morning's pain scared her enough that she pulled out her phone and searched for cardiologists in her insurance network. The search results overwhelmed her, copays she couldn't afford, wait times of months for appointments, the complexity of navigating a system that seemed designed to keep people like her out.
She closed the browser. Later, she told herself. When things calm down. When I have time.
Sometimes Alexa wondered why she stayed. Was it loyalty? Habit? Or just hope that the Charles she loved might flicker back, like a candle guttering in the wind? The ring on her finger; her engagement ring, felt heavier by the day.
Memories of better times haunted her. The first time Charles promised they'd run away together, leave their tiny town, see the world. The way he whispered about the life they'd have: a little home, good jobs, a family of their own. "We're in this together, Lex. Always." She wanted that to be true. But promises, she learned, could fracture just as easily as trust.
Now, as she folded Yvonne's laundry, Alexa blinked away tears. She wanted to be strong. She owed that to her niece, who had no one else. If there was any reason left to endure, it was for the girl her sister had trusted her to raise. Alexa pressed her face into a soft pink sweater. "I'm here for you," she whispered.
The sound of her phone ringing jolted her upright. The screen flashed with an unknown number. Alexa's heart hammered against her ribs as she answered.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Alexa Freeman?" came a woman's voice, professional and calm.
"Yes, this is Alexa."
"This is Dr. Theresa calling from Mercy General Hospital. I'm calling in regards to your niece, Yvonne Walker."
Time warped, Alexa's legs went numb. "What happened? Is she alright?" Her voice cracked around the question.
"There's been an accident," the doctor replied, her tone gentle but urgent. "We need you to come in as soon as possible."
Alexa's world dropped away, reality tilting to one sharp, frantic point: getting to the hospital. She didn't bother with shoes. Her hands shook as she grabbed her keys and fled the apartment.
As she rushed toward her car, heart raw and mind blank with terror, one name echoed in her chest, fiercer than every fractured promise Charles had ever made. Yvonne.
Nothing else mattered now.