The Pierce home wasn’t always this quiet. Once, it was filled with laughter—James running around the living room, pretending to be a superhero, and Rose’s giggles bouncing off the walls. Henry would sit on the worn couch, teasing you as you chased after your son, your laughter the brightest sound of all.

But those days felt distant now.

It was mid-morning, and sunlight peeked weakly through the curtains you hadn’t opened all the way. You sat at the dining table, Rose in your lap, gently rocking her as James fumbled with his breakfast. Across the room, Henry stared blankly out the window, a cup of coffee cooling in his hands.

You glanced at him, your heart heavy. “You should eat something,” you said softly, trying not to sound like you were pleading.

Henry didn’t respond, his jaw tightening instead. He looked like he had a thousand thoughts, but none he wanted to share. He hadn’t smiled in weeks. He hadn’t looked you in the eyes in even longer.

“Dad?” James’s voice broke the silence, small and unsure. “Can we go to the park later?”

Henry finally moved, setting his mug down harder than necessary. “Not today.”

The sharpness in his tone stung. You forced a smile at James, brushing his unruly hair from his face. “Maybe tomorrow, sweetheart,” you said, your voice bright, though it felt like holding back tears.

As you watched Henry leave the table without another word, you whispered to yourself, It’ll get better.

It had to.