Change

~Ivy Pov~

“Emma grace, if you put syrup inside your brother’s shoe again, I swear I will lose my mind before eight in the morning.”

“It was an accident!” Emma yelled from the kitchen.

“No, it wasn’t!” Noah shouted back immediately. “You looked directly into my eyes while doing it!”

I closed my eyes briefly while standing in the middle of unpacked boxes with a half-folded school uniform hanging from my arm, this was my life, chaos, constant noise, missing socks. Sticky counters and somehow love hidden inside every exhausting second. A loud crash echoed from the kitchen.

“Oh my God,” I muttered before rushing toward the sound.

I stopped at the doorway and stared, milk covered the floor, Emma stood frozen beside the refrigerator holding an empty cereal box while Noah pointed accusingly at her like a tiny lawyer preparing for court.

“She committed the crime,” he announced dramatically.

Emma gasped. “Traitor!”

“You spilled the milk!”

“You distracted me with your ugly face!”

I pressed a hand against my forehead.

“We moved into this house less than twenty-four hours ago,” I said slowly. “Please explain why it already looks like a natural disaster happened here.”

Neither answered, because neither had shame, honestly, they got that from Sebastian, the thought hit unexpectedly, it was painful, so I immediately pushed it away.

Ten years.

Ten whole years since that morning Scarlett humiliated him in our kitchen and after that nothing. Sebastian Cole disappeared like he had never existed at all.

Sometimes I wondered if leaving town that day destroyed something inside him permanently, sometimes I wondered if he hated us, if he hated me, I swallowed hard and grabbed paper towels from the counter.

“Okay,” I sighed. “Noah, shoes. Emma, backpacks.”

Neither moved, I looked up slowly.

“Now.”

The twins sprinted instantly, peace at last, for approximately four seconds.

“Mom!” Emma screamed from the hallway.

“What now?!”

“I can’t find my other shoe!”

Noah yelled immediately, “Maybe because you put syrup in mine!”

I laughed before I could stop myself. God, I loved these children so much it physically hurt sometimes even during moments like this, especially during moments like this.

The small rental house we moved into yesterday still smelled like fresh paint and cardboard boxes. It wasn’t luxurious, but compared to our old apartment, it felt huge.

Three bedrooms. A small backyard. Large windows, hope, that’s what this house felt like, after years of surviving paycheck to paycheck, I finally decided we needed more than survival, which was why we moved here.

A bigger city. Better schools. Better opportunities and hopefully better jobs, my freelance editing work barely kept us afloat anymore, and after losing my publishing job months ago, things became terrifying financially, I couldn’t keep raising my children in constant fear of overdue bills, so I took the risk, new town, new beginning, maybe life would finally become kinder.

“Mom,” Noah said while entering the kitchen wearing only one sock, “do you think people here will be weird?”

I blinked. “Weird?”

“Like our old school.”

My chest tightened instantly, children could be cruel, especially to kids without fathers around. I still remembered Noah coming home angry after another student asked why his dad never attended school events, Emma got quieter about it instead, that hurt worse somehow, I crouched slightly to fix Noah’s crooked collar.

“I think this place will be different.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” I admitted softly. “But I’m hoping.”

Emma suddenly wrapped her arms around my waist from behind.

“Well, I like this house.”

I smiled despite everything. “Yeah?”

She nodded against me. “It feels happy.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly. Happy, nobody ever used words like that for the places I grew up in, my childhood home looked beautiful from outside, but inside it always felt cold unless Scarlett was smiling, I was invisible there.

Sometimes I still remembered the night my parents threw me out, my mother crying about embarrassment. My father refusing to even look at me, Scarlett standing behind them with satisfaction hidden beneath fake pity.

“Tell us who got you pregnant,” Dad demanded furiously.

I held my swollen stomach protectively.

“No.”

Mom looked horrified. “You’re choosing some irresponsible man over your own family?”

I almost laughed at the irony, What family?

The same family that loved me only when I stayed silent and convenient?

“You brought shame into this house,” Dad snapped.

“I’m still your daughter,” I whispered.

Scarlett scoffed loudly from the staircase. “Barely.”

That one word destroyed me more than everything else.

Barely.

Barely their daughter. Barely important. Barely loved, when Dad finally threw my bags outside, Scarlett watched me leave without stopping him. And honestly?

That was the night I realized nobody was ever coming to save me, so I saved myself instead, it wasn’t easy.

God, it wasn’t easy, I attended college while pregnant and exhausted, taking classes during the day and working nights wherever I could, diners, bookstores, cleaning offices, editing papers online.

There were nights I slept only two hours before taking care of newborn twins again, sometimes I cried from exhaustion while rocking them both to sleep, but every terrible moment became worth it the first time Noah laughed or when Emma wrapped tiny fingers around mine, they saved me long before I saved them.

“Mom?”

I blinked back into the present.

Emma frowned up at me worriedly. “You disappeared again.”

I forced a smile immediately. “Sorry.”

“You do that a lot,” Noah muttered.

Because thinking was dangerous, thinking usually led back to Sebastian and I spent years teaching myself not to think about him anymore.

“Okay,” I clapped softly. “Everybody alive? Dressed? Wearing shoes that are syrup-free?”

“Mostly,” Noah answered honestly.

Good enough, twenty minutes later, we rushed out the front door in complete chaos, Emma forgot her lunchbox twice, Noah almost boarded the wrong school bus and I nearly spilled coffee all over myself while signing paperwork.

By the time the twins finally disappeared into the school bus, I stood outside breathing heavily like I survived battle, a voice beside me laughed softly.

“First day?”

I turned to find another mother smiling at me kindly.

I smiled back awkwardly. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little.”

She glanced toward the school bus. “You’re new here?”

“Very.”

“I’m Rachel.”

“Ivy.”

We shook hands briefly.

Rachel looked toward the street thoughtfully. “This town’s good for families. Expensive sometimes, but good.”

Expensive, yeah, I already noticed that, half the neighborhood  drove luxury cars worth more than my entire existence, anxiety curled quietly inside my stomach again, I needed stable work very soon.

Rachel smiled warmly. “Your kids seem sweet.”

“They are,” I answered immediately.

And they really were, even with syrup crimes.

“Well,” she said while stepping backward, “good luck surviving your first week.”

I laughed lightly. “Thank you.”

As she walked away, I looked back toward our apartment building one last time before heading toward the entrance, the day ahead already felt overwhelming.

Unpacking, Job applications, bills. A hundred responsibilities waiting for me inside but underneath all the exhaustion, there was hope too.

For the first time in years, I felt like maybe we were finally moving toward something better instead of constantly running from disaster.