Chapter Four
The soft light of early morning filtered through the threadbare curtains of Violet's small apartment, gently waking the world inside. It was a modest space—worn but warm—with colorful drawings taped haphazardly to the walls, toys strewn across the faded carpet, and the quiet buzz of a city still stirring awake. For Violet, this apartment was both refuge and prison, a place of chaotic love and persistent reminders of all she had lost.
Five-year-old Eliot was already up, his curly hair tousled from sleep as he sat cross-legged on the floor, building a fortress of wooden blocks. His little sister, Eloise, sat beside him, her lips pursed in concentration as she carefully stacked plastic animals along the edge of the sofa.
"Mommy, look!" Eliot called out, raising a shaky tower higher and higher. Eloise clapped her hands excitedly.
Violet smiled, her heart tightening at the sound of their laughter. She had come to understand the rhythms of motherhood intimately—the endless questions, the scraped knees, the bedtime stories told over and over. But beneath the surface, she carried a secret heavier than any burden she had known before—a secret tied to the father of these bright-eyed children, Alec, and the painful silence that had stretched between them for five long years.
"Breakfast will be ready soon, my loves," Violet called from the cramped kitchenette, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She glanced at the clock on the wall—time was already slipping past, but there was always something to do, some small miracle of survival to perform each day.
Eliot looked up expectantly. "Can we have pancakes today, Mommy?"
Violet laughed softly. "Pancakes it is."
As she prepared the batter, her thoughts drifted like wisps of memory she dared not fully grasp. Alec. His name was a whisper in her mind, a ghost-shaped ache she carried quietly, especially when the twins' questions turned to their father.
Yesterday, Eloise had asked, "Why doesn't Daddy come to see us?"
Violet had knelt to meet her daughter's wide, curious eyes, swallowing a lump she could feel growing. "Sometimes grown-ups have to live far away," she said gently, hoping it was enough, hoping they wouldn't need more—for now.
The twins were oblivious to the storm of emotions inside her. For them, their world was filled with dinosaurs and fairy tales, with scraped knees and bear hugs. Violet was determined to keep it that way for as long as she could.
"Mommy," Eliot tugged at her sleeve, "can we go to the park after breakfast?"
"Of course, sweetheart. We'll go to the park and feed the ducks," she promised, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
The twins finished their pancakes with the messy delight only children could muster, syrup dripping down their chins as Violet wiped their faces and smoothed hair from their foreheads. Each kiss she pressed to their heads was a silent promise to protect them—to shield them from the heartbreak hidden just beneath her calm exterior.
After breakfast, Violet bundled the twins into their little jackets and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The city was beginning its slow crawl to life—the distant honk of a car, the chatter of neighbors on porches, the scent of fresh rain on asphalt. She held Eliot and Eloise's hands tightly as they walked to the nearby park, her mind swirling with questions she had no answers to.
At the park, the twins ran ahead, their laughter filling the space between the trees. Violet sat quietly on a bench, watching them chase each other around the swings, their carefree joy cutting through the fog in her heart.
She pulled out a small, worn notebook from her bag. Inside, written in her hurried handwriting, were fragments of thoughts, fears, and memories she hadn't shared with anyone. Each page was a testament to the secret she carried—a secret wrapped around the truth of their father, Alec, and the mystery behind his sudden disappearance.
A mother from nearby smiled warmly and approached, commenting on the twins' energy. Violet returned the smile, grateful for the small connection, even though she felt profoundly alone.
As the sun climbed higher, Violet gathered the twins to head home, knowing the routine would continue—school preparations, dinner, bedtime rituals—but the questions that lingered between her and Alec remained unanswered.
Back in the apartment that evening, after tucking Eliot and Eloise into bed, Violet sat by the window, gazing out at the city lights flickering in the dark. Her hands clutched the locket she never took off—the only tangible link to Alec, and to a past she wasn't sure she could fully leave behind.
Tomorrow, like every day, she would keep moving forward, carrying her secret and her children with fierce, unwavering love.