“Stupid car… come on,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

I try the ignition again. Nothing. Just a weak, insulting click.

From the back seat, Serena shifts. “Mom… we’re going to be late.”

“I know, honey.”

One more turn of the key.

The engine finally coughs to life.

Serena lets out a small, relieved cheer, and I manage a tired smile. For a moment, it feels like we’re safe again.

But I’ve learned better than to trust moments like that.

Being a single mom wasn’t part of the plan. It’s just what I became. Six years of barely holding things together—roof over our heads, food on the table, pretending I wasn’t constantly one bad day away from everything collapsing.

It wasn’t always like this.

Before Serena’s father, I had something that looked like freedom. Then came him—charming, convincing, and slowly draining everything I had. My money, my confidence, my sense of self. I stayed anyway, thinking love meant endurance. I was a kook before and I had to join the Pogue life after him.

Now it’s just me and her.

And that has to be enough.

We’re on the way to ballet—her one small joy, the only thing I can still afford—when the car suddenly jerks, sputters… and dies right in the middle of the road.

Silence.

Then chaos.

Horns blare behind us, sharp and impatient. My stomach drops.

“Seriously?” I whisper.

I step out, the heat hitting me as I walk to the front of the car. I stare at the hood like it might explain itself.

It doesn’t.

A door slams hard impatient behind my car.

Rafe : “Hey! What the hell?” a man’s voice snaps. “Can you move your fucking car?”