I always knew exactly what it meant to be on your feet for fourteen hours, then spend another hour in the kitchen trying to cook something warm out of whatever you could scrape together from the fridge—and still fall asleep feeling like you didn’t get anything done.
After the divorce, Jake wasn’t exactly rushing to see our daughter.
“I just need to live for myself for a while,” he said as he zipped up the duffel bag under our closet, the one I had built with my own hands.
“You’re stronger than I. You’ll manage.”
What I didn’t know then was that “live for himself” actually meant “live with a younger girl named Candy in a lakeview condo where the kitchen alone was bigger than my entire rental now.”
Things with my dad were even worse.
He’d been sick for a long time, then unpaid bills kept piling up, and when he finally passed, he didn’t leave peace behind.
He left me a list of debts.
The house I’d grown up in had to be sold. Every nail I pulled, every curtain I folded, every dent in the wall scraped off a part of me.
But I had no choice. I had to sell it to pay everything off.
“Mom, are we getting a new house?” my daughter Ellie asked as we packed boxes.
“No, princess. We’re getting a new home. One with peace and tea with honey.”
She nodded like a grown-up. Serious. Brave.
The only bright spot my dad left behind was a savings account he had placed in Ellie’s name.
“For her future,” the attorney said. “The money’s for education, healthcare, or a home. As her mother, you’ll serve as trustee.”
I’d almost forgotten about that money. I worked at a hospital as a janitor, took night shifts, filled in for anyone who called out.
It felt like surviving. I tracked hours, moved around schedules, and counted every cent. And then things started to shift. Jake suddenly became “super dad.”
“I’ll take Ellie for the weekend. And the next. Maybe a few more.”
“I got her a tablet. She’s so smart—we’re learning stuff together.”
“We took her to the aquarium. She said I’m the best dad ever.”
At first, I was glad. My daughter was happy. She laughed more. But something tightened in me every time he called.
Why now? Why this sudden craving to be involved?
But I brushed it off. I told myself:
“Don’t be petty. If he wants to love her, let him. A child can’t have too much love.”
Still, little things started bothering me.
Candy became “part of the family.” Their photos on Instagram reads,
“Family day at the park,” “Our little angel,” “Mommy, Daddy & Me.”
I said nothing.
“Focus on your own life. Let them have their pictures.”
And then, one night, I got a knock on the door that changed everything. Jake brought Ellie home, and she was glowing.
“Mom! Dad says I’m gonna have a unicorn party! With a chocolate fountain!”
“Really?” I smiled.
“And I get to wear a queen dress and ride a pony!”
She twirled around, arms in the air. I looked at Jake.
“Are you planning something?”
“Yeah, Candy and I thought we’d throw her a real party this year. You did say things were tight for you lately.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t celebrating.”
“Relax. It’s all taken care of. Just come by after work and pick her up later.”
Something clenched in my chest again. Something warned me. But I said nothing.
The day before Ellie’s birthday, I took a double shift. I swapped with my coworker so I could be free the next day. I wanted to spend every minute with my daughter on her special day.
I was wiping down the nurses’ station counter when my phone buzzed. The screen lit up with “Jake”.
For the first time all day, I stopped.
“Hey. Quick update. We’ve moved the party. It’s happening today.”
“What do you mean — today? Today?!”
“Yeah, there was a scheduling mix-up with the venue. You know how these popular places are. Candy and I didn’t want to stress, so we just took another date. Ellie’s right here, totally thrilled.”
“Jake, I’m on shift — you know that. I cleared my schedule for tomorrow. No one can cover for me today. I’m working until seven.”
“Then just come after. You understand — what matters is that the kid’s happy.”
“Who picked her up from daycare?”
“I did. Everything’s handled. Candy’s already got her dressed. She’s got a tiara, sparkles, and looks like a real princess.”
“But… we had an agreement…”
“Don’t freak out, Sarah. You’re always so busy. We decided to take this one off your plate. I’m just… giving Ellie what she deserves. A normal childhood.”
Those words stung more than they should have. A normal childhood?
What about my late-night stories when I could barely keep my eyes open? The pancakes with strawberry smiles I made on the day she had a sore throat?
“I’ll come,” I whispered.
“Just don’t forget to take off the apron,” Jake chuckled and hung up.
By 7 p.m., I had scrubbed eight patient rooms and three toilets. I rushed down the hallways with a mop and a bucket like I was running an endurance race.
No time for a shower. I tied my hair back in a low knot, my hands still smelling of antiseptic. I was exhausted.
The gift I had prepared was at home. I checked the card. 50 dollars.
I sighed. Bought a bouquet of pink peonies at the station. Then I ran as fast as I could, just to be there.
The restaurant looked like a dollhouse fantasy. Faux cherry blossoms on the ceiling, heart-shaped lights, and a chocolate fountain.
I opened the door, and for a moment, every head turned. Candy slowly turned around.
“Oh… Sarah, flowers! How sweet!”
