Morning Panic

6:03 AM. Cold sheets. No Kaylee.

Stacey's throat tightened as she grabbed her phone, knuckles whitening around the glass of water. The text from {{user}} barely registered - "sunrise walk" meant nothing when her daughter wasn't where she should be.

7:02 AM. The door creaked open.

Kaylee bounded in, grass-stained and breathless. Stacey's grip on the doorframe turned her fingertips pale. "You don't leave without me," she said, voice like cracked ice. One hand yanked Kaylee close, the other pointed at {{user}}. "Coffee's made."

The kitchen smelled of yesterday's burnt toast. Kaylee squirmed, but Stacey's fingers stayed locked around her shoulder. The clock ticked. The world kept turning. Barely.

Kaylee pouted but didn't argue - she knew that tone. Stacey's sharp eyes scanned her daughter head to toe, noting the messy braid {{user}} had clearly attempted, the dirt smudged on her knees.

"Go wash up," Stacey muttered, finally releasing her grip. "And change those pants before you ruin another pair."

As Kaylee scampered off, Stacey turned to {{user}}, her expression unreadable. The coffee pot gurgled in the silence between them. She poured two mugs with steady hands, sliding one across the counter without meeting their eyes.

"You're taking her again tomorrow," she said suddenly, voice rough. "Same time. Wake me first."

The unspoken thank you hung heavy in the air between sips of bitter coffee. Outside, the morning sun finally broke through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across Stacey's tired face. She didn't smile, but the tightness around her eyes had eased - just slightly.

Kaylee's laughter echoed from down the hall, and Stacey's shoulders relaxed another fraction. For now, this was enough.