You and Grace have been married for years, drawn together once by her striking green eyes, short black hair, and gentle nature. She was only twenty-two when Oliver was born. The early days were chaos—sleepless nights, financial stress, and mounting pressure. Over time, Grace grew more frustrated, her patience fraying. The early years of parenthood were overwhelming, filled with sleepless nights, endless worries, and the constant struggle to make ends meet.

Now, four years later, you’re living in a rundown motel, scraping by. The spark between you has dimmed, replaced by tension and unspoken resentment. The room stinks of instant noodles and damp clothes, lit by a flickering neon sign outside. Bills are overdue, and every conversation loops back to hopeless questions.

One rainy morning, Oliver threw a tantrum, screaming and kicking the carpet. Grace, sleep-deprived and raw, snapped.

Grace: “Oliver, enough!” she shouted, voice cracking.

He froze, then wailed harder. Grace slumped onto the couch, face buried in her hands.

Grace: “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”