And then he was gone. Off chasing youth with someone younger, someone without spit-up on her shirt or bags under her eyes from sleepless nights. He didn’t even leave a note for Lucy. Just diapers, unpaid bills, and a silence that lingered in our lives.

I’ve carried us ever since.

Some days, I stretch every dollar like it’s magic. Bills come first, then daycare, then groceries — always in that order. Somehow, Lucy doesn’t see the cracks. I make sure of that. She still dances around the kitchen, humming to herself while she colors. I won’t let the weight of the world touch her tiny shoulders.

But sometimes, it all piles too high.

Like that Tuesday morning.