Rain hammered against the kitchen window, a steady drumbeat to Olivia Hartley’s morning routine. She stood at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes with military precision. The clock read 6:34 a.m.—every minute already accounted for. Derek’s muddy boots were carelessly kicked off at the door from his late-night stumble home. She scowled at them, resisting the urge to fling them outside into the rain.

Jackson, loud and unfiltered as always, breezed into the kitchen, hair still wild from sleep. “You’re gonna burn those, mom,” he teased, grabbing a plate.

“I’ll burn you if you don’t set the table,” Olivia shot back, though a small smile flickered at the corner of her mouth.

Lucas lingered in the hallway, arms folded, eyes narrowed. Always on edge, he scanned the room like he expected a fight. His bruised knuckles rested on the doorframe; Olivia made a mental note to ask about them later, gently if she could manage it.

Maya, silent and swift, poured juice for her siblings, her motions graceful and practiced. She nudged Lila, who was already under the table hunting for the cat again.

Aiden banged through the back door, pockets stuffed with who-knew-what. “Found a raccoon in the shed. Should I keep it?” he asked.

“No!” came the reply in unison—Olivia louder than the rest.

Derek stumbled in, beard unkempt, eyes bloodshot. “Morning, folks,” he slurred, reaching for the coffee.

Olivia blocked him. “The kids first. Then you.”

He grunted, muttering something under his breath, but stepped aside. The tension was as thick as the steam rising from the pancakes.

But as she watched her chaos of a family—Jackson making Maya laugh, Aiden sneaking something to Lila, Lucas quietly sliding a bandage across the table—Olivia felt the familiar surge of fierce love. Life here was stormy, unpredictable, sometimes violent, but this was her family. And she would fight for every single one of them—rain or shine.

She set the last pancakes on the table, using her gentlest voice: “Eat up. You’ll need your strength today.”