I stared at my coffee machine, willing it to work faster. The seconds dragged, stretching into what felt like hours.
The faint hum of brewing coffee filled the kitchen, but it wasn’t nearly enough to drown out the chaos behind me.
Morning had barely begun, and I was already drained—exhausted, anxious, and teetering on the edge of frustration.
Behind me, my three reasons for living were in full force. My two sons and my daughter were a tornado of shrieks, laughter, and flying food.
“Ethan, stop it!” Madison’s voice was sharp, high-pitched, laced with the authority of an older sister.
