LOGINSpring arrived with unexpected warmth, transforming the city from gray and dormant to green and alive. Isabella stood at Rosa's door on a Saturday morning, holding Lily's hand and a bag of groceries she'd insisted on bringing."You don't need to bring food every time you visit," Rosa said, but she was smiling as she took the bag. "Though I won't say no to fresh vegetables. Come in, come in."These Saturday visits had become routine over the past few months. Isabella would bring Lily over, and they'd spend the afternoon at Rosa's house—cooking together, playing in the small backyard, just existing in each other's company. It was different from the weekday drop-offs and pickups. More relaxed. More like family."Miss Rosa!" Lily broke free from Isabella's hand and ran toward the kitchen, where Rosa kept a cookie jar specifically for visiting children."One cookie before lunch," Rosa called after her. "And wash your hands first!"Isabella followed them into the kitchen, familiar now with
The question came on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, sandwiched between snack time and a tantrum over the wrong color cup. Isabella was in the kitchen making dinner—grilled cheese because it was one of five foods Lily would eat without a fight—when she heard her daughter's voice from the living room."Mama, where's my daddy?"Isabella's hand froze on the spatula. The bread in the pan started smoking, but she couldn't move. This was the moment she'd been dreading for three years. The question that haunted her dreams and therapy sessions. The conversation she'd rehearsed a thousand times but still wasn't ready for."Mama?" Lily appeared in the doorway, holding her stuffed elephant. "The bread is burning.""Oh. Right." Isabella flipped the sandwich, buying herself a few more seconds. Her heart hammered against her ribs. "What did you ask me, baby?""Where's my daddy? Tommy has a daddy. Casey has a daddy. Everyone has a daddy except me." Lily's voice was matter-of-fact, curious rather than
Lily turned two on a cold November morning that felt like a mirror of the day she was born. Isabella woke early, staring at the ceiling while her daughter slept peacefully in the toddler bed they'd recently transitioned to. Two years. Two entire years of motherhood, of survival, of building a life from nothing.The apartment looked different than it had a year ago. Isabella had slowly accumulated real furniture—a proper couch from a yard sale, a dining table with only one wobbly leg, curtains that actually matched. The walls had pictures now: photos of Lily at various stages, a few of Isabella and Grace, even one of Rosa holding Lily at the park. It looked like a home, not just a place to sleep.Isabella had saved for weeks to afford Lily's birthday party. Nothing extravagant—just a small celebration at the apartment with Rosa, Grace, Jen and her kids, and a few other daycare families. A homemade cake, dollar store decorations, and a pile of presents that were mostly practical things
"No."It was Lily's new favorite word, delivered with the conviction of someone who'd just discovered personal autonomy and planned to weaponize it. No to getting dressed. No to eating breakfast. No to leaving for Rosa's. No to everything Isabella suggested, needed, or desperately begged for."Lily, sweetie, we need to put on your shoes." Isabella crouched down, holding the tiny sneakers like peace offerings. "Mama has to go to work, and you get to play with Tommy and the other kids.""No!" Lily stamped her foot for emphasis, then took off running toward the bedroom wearing nothing but a diaper and one sock.Isabella checked her phone. 7:47 AM. She needed to leave in eight minutes or she'd be late. Again. Jennifer had been understanding about Isabella's occasional tardiness, but there was a limit to everyone's patience."Lily Grace Blake, you come back here right now."The sound of drawers being opened and emptied came from the bedroom. Isabella closed her eyes, counted to ten, remind
Three months into her new job, Isabella finally moved into her own apartment. It wasn't much—a cramped one-bedroom in a building that had seen better decades, with radiators that clanked at odd hours and a refrigerator that hummed like it was trying to communicate. But it was hers. Hers and Lily's. No more sleeping on Grace's generosity, no more feeling like a burden.The apartment came unfurnished, which meant Isabella spent her first night there sleeping on an air mattress with Lily in the bassinet beside her. They had exactly three plates, two forks, one pot, and a collection of mismatched cups from the dollar store. The walls were bare except for water stains. The carpet was brown—whether by design or years of neglect, Isabella couldn't tell.It was perfect."What do you think, baby girl?" Isabella asked, holding Lily up to see their new kingdom. "It's not a penthouse, but it's ours."Lily, now three months old and getting chubbier by the day, just drooled on Isabella's shoulder.
The discharge papers felt heavier than they should have in Isabella's hands. Two days in the county hospital had cost her nearly a thousand dollars even with the charity care discount. A thousand dollars she didn't have. A thousand dollars that could have bought diapers and formula and all the things her newborn daughter needed."Sign here, here, and here," the nurse said, her voice kind but tired. She'd probably processed dozens of discharge papers that day alone, seen dozens of scared new mothers walking out into uncertain futures.Isabella signed with shaking hands, her body still aching from labor. Lily slept in her arms, wrapped in a thin hospital blanket that Isabella would need to return. She'd dressed her daughter in the only outfit she owned—a simple white onesie Grace had brought to the hospital, along with a car seat Isabella knew her friend couldn't afford either."You have follow-up appointments scheduled?" the nurse asked, checking her tablet."Yes." Isabella had the pap







