Chapter 1

Bella Manning kept tucking the expired family passes back and forth between pages of her picture book. When Alfred Manning finally came home, she looked hopefully toward the door.

"You're still awake, Bella," he said with a smile and walked over to her. "I brought you a yummy treat to make up for today."

The cake box was semi-transparent. The frosting was smeared against the sides, and several large chunks had been scooped out and eaten.

Bella loved strawberries, but the cake was chocolate-flavored.

"Is this for me, Daddy?" she asked.

"Daryl didn't want it. I figured it'd be a waste to throw it away, so I brought it home for you."

I watched as she quietly lowered her head and murmured, "Thank you, Daddy."

Alfred stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Don't be upset, honey. You know what Edna is going through right now. She's just divorced, and she's emotionally unstable.

"Besides, Daryl has never traveled abroad before, so I took them on a trip as a way of helping an old friend get through a hard time."

"What about Bella?" I asked. "She waited so long for you, too."

His expression faltered briefly before he quickly recovered his composure and said, "That boy doesn't have a father anymore. He needs a little extra care and attention."

I no longer had the strength to argue. Our heartbreaks and hurt feelings were always expected to be swept under the rug by a treat from someone else's leftovers anyway.

…

The next day, Alfred brought the mother and son home.

"She's still scared to cook by herself," he explained. "The sound of pots and pans reminds her of her ex-husband smashing things and getting violent."

Despite everything, I still ended up cooking a full spread for dinner. I only did it because I didn't want to let Bella down after she expectantly asked that afternoon, "Will Daddy eat dinner at home with us today?"

At the dinner table, Daryl Vance wrinkled his nose. Edna Moore immediately lowered her head and leaned in to ask, "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"

He didn't say a word and stared at the honey barbecue ribs instead. Those were Bella's favorites.

"Daryl has had a sensitive stomach lately. The doctor told him to avoid heavy flavors, but he's craving meat, and I don't know what to do either."

Before anyone else could respond, Alfred moved the platter of ribs up to Daryl.

"A couple of pieces won't hurt! If he wants it, let him have some."

Bella lowered her head and quietly reached for the vegetables instead.

After taking a bite of a rib, Daryl decided it was too sweet and spat it out.

Edna looked embarrassed as she said, "I'm so sorry, Olivia. It'd be great if there was something lighter on the table. Daryl was traumatized by his father, and he cries easily when he feels sick."

Alfred turned to me. "Maybe you could—"

"Mommy spent the whole afternoon working in the kitchen," Bella whispered.

When Alfred heard that, he softened his tone and adopted a gentle, coaxing cadence. "Daryl needs more care right now, Bella. You're such a good girl, so why don't you help Mommy in the kitchen?"

She hopped off her chair and brought over plates from the kitchen. Watching as the little daisies printed on her dress brushed against the corner of the cabinet, I felt my nose sting at the sight.

That dinner dragged on forever with a cycle of Daryl picking at his food, Edna apologizing, and Alfred comforting them.

Bella only ate half of her plate of food. The ribs she loved so much were pushed aside by Daryl, who complained that they had gone cold and refused to touch them again.

After dinner, Alfred took Edna and Daryl home.

Before walking out, Edna gently took my hand and said, "Thank you so much for today, Olivia. You have such a wonderful family. No wonder Alfred is always saying how kind and capable you are."

As she spoke, her eyes drifted to Alfred. It felt as though she was trying to sense the warmth of our family through my hand.

It was nearly 10:00 pm by the time Alfred came home. When he noticed that I was still clearing the dining table, he walked over to help stack the plates.

"I know you're upset, honey, but Edna is absolutely traumatized right now. Showing her a little kindness won't cost us anything."

Back when Bella was born, I suffered from severe postpartum insomnia. Her jaundice kept flaring up, and she would cry herself hoarse in the middle of the night.

Alfred was busy with work then. Whenever he came home, he would always complain about how exhausted he was. I was scared of bothering him and never asked for help, silently carrying the entire weight on my shoulders.

Later, when I returned to work, my department went through a massive restructuring, and the pressure to meet my targets nearly crushed me.

One midnight, I came home and noticed that the building's elevator had broken down. So, with Bella in my arms, I carried her up the parking garage, only to take a terrible fall that left me with a permanent, chronic back injury.

When Alfred found out, all he said was, "Why didn't you ask security for help?"

He had never once given me a shred of kindness during my darkest moments.

I dumped Bella's half-eaten, cold food into the trash can. The food had dried and stuck to the plate, refusing to rinse clean, no matter how much water I ran over it.

Alfred kept droning on, "Once you get to know Edna better, you'll see that she really has had a hard life."

I turned off the faucet and announced, "Bella didn't get to eat enough tonight."

When he froze, I didn't bother saying anything else because I knew what his next line would be.

"Well, just warm up a glass of milk for her, then."

But a glass of milk was never what Bella needed.