Sunrise was still an hour away when Sunny’s eyes snapped open. She hadn’t really slept — just drifted in and out of a restless haze where dreams and reality blurred together. Her body felt leaden with the decision they’d made.
She stared at the ceiling, memorizing details she’d soon leave behind: the crown molding that framed the edges, the water stain from when Hailey had overflowed the top-floor bathtub, the way morning light would soon filter through the gauzy curtains.
The house was silent except for the grandfather clock downstairs — each tick counting down the time she had left in this home, with this family. Her family. No, she corrected herself. Not her family. Never truly hers.
Sunny forced herself out of bed, movements mechanical as she pulled on jeans and a soft blue sweater that Maddie once said made her eyes look “like the swimming pool when the sun hits it.” She’d leave the sweater behind. Too many memories.
In the bathroom, she avoided her reflection. She knew what she’d see — red-rimmed eyes, pallor beneath her normally rosy complexion, the physical manifestation of a heart breaking. Instead, she focused on the practical: brushing her teeth, washing her face, tying back her hair. Normal morning routine. As if this were any normal morning.
Downstairs, the kitchen awaited her, gleaming and spotless from Beth’s ministrations the evening before. Sunny moved through it with reverent familiarity, trailing her fingers across the smooth countertop. How many meals had she prepared here? How many times had she stood at this sink, watching the girls play in the backyard through the window? How often had Liam leaned against this very counter, coffee mug in hand, watching her with those blue eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul?
She pulled herself back from the memories. Focus on the task at hand.
The refrigerator yielded eggs, milk, fresh blueberries. From the pantry, she retrieved flour, sugar, vanilla. The girls’ favorite — blueberry pancakes with smiley faces made of sliced strawberries. A last meal, of sorts. A final act of care.
As she mixed the batter, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought failed, Sunny struggled to rehearse what she would say.
I have to go away for a while.
No. Too vague. Too much like the hollow promises adults had made to her as a child.
Your daddy thinks it’s best if I leave.
Worse. Shifting responsibility, making it Liam’s decision, when she should own this herself.
I love you both so much, but sometimes adults have to make hard choices.
The wooden spoon stilled in the bowl as hot tears threatened. There was no good way to tell children you were leaving them. No words that could soften the blow, no explanation that could make sense of abandonment to a child’s heart.
She’d known that once, felt it herself with each new foster home, each failed placement. The confusion. The hurt. The inevitable conclusion that somehow, some way, it must be your fault. You weren’t good enough. Lovable enough. Worth staying for.
And now she would inflict that same wound on Maddie and Hailey.
The first pancake sizzled on the griddle, the familiar smell filling the kitchen with warmth and sweetness. Sunny arranged fresh berries into smiling faces, her vision blurring with unshed tears. Last night, she’d tucked special notes into their lunch boxes — simple messages of love and encouragement they would find later, after she was gone. Small comfort, but all she had to offer.
“Sunny?”
Hailey’s voice, still thick with sleep, startled her from her thoughts. She stood in the doorway, wild blonde curls tangled around her face, clutching her stuffed rabbit by one well-loved ear.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Sunny managed, her voice unnaturally bright. “I made your favorite pancakes.”
Hailey rubbed her eyes with small fists, then tilted her head, studying Sunny with that uncanny perception children sometimes possess. “You look different.”
“Do I?” Sunny turned back to the stove, flipping a pancake with unnecessary concentration. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
“No,” Hailey insisted, padding across the kitchen tiles. “You look sad. Like when Daddy watches the videos of Mommy.”
The comparison was like a hot poker between Sunny’s ribs. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile as she bent to Hailey’s level.
“Why don’t you go wake your sister?” she suggested. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
Hailey hesitated, unconvinced, but then nodded and scampered away. Sunny exhaled shakily, pressing her palms against the cool countertop for support. She’d barely begun, and already her resolve was crumbling. How would she get through the actual goodbye?
By the time both girls arrived at the table, Sunny had arranged stacks of pancakes on three plates, complete with berry smiley faces and small pitchersof warm maple syrup. She busied herself pouring juice, avoiding their curious gazes.
“Where’s Daddy?” Maddie asked, still in her pajamas but with her hair neatly brushed. Always the more put-together of the two.
“In his office,” Sunny replied. “He has an early call with the team.”
