Keller stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a crumpled letter in his hand. "Mom, he's getting married again," he said quietly, his voice cutting through the peaceful stillness of the morning.
His mother, Julie, was at the stove, frying eggs in an old, slightly warped pan. Her hand froze for a moment, but she quickly resumed flipping the eggs.
"Well, good luck to him," she replied, her tone unnervingly calm, as if she were commenting on the weather.
Keller didn't respond. Leaning against the doorframe, his eyes lingered on her tired figure. Julie was barely in her early forties, yet life had worn her down prematurely. Her hair was dry and frayed, her shoulders slightly hunched as though she carried an invisible weight. Ever since Keller's dad walked out five years ago, this house had felt like a sinking ship, holding together but only just.
"Is Ella up yet?" Julie asked, trying to change the subject, her voice soft but strained, as if seeking comfort in small talk.
"I called her. She's still rolling around in bed," Keller muttered, running a hand through his unkempt brown hair. The morning sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the sharp angles of his face, his high nose bridge, and deep-set eyes—features that hinted at the good looks he'd inherited from his father.
The thought of his dad, now living comfortably with a wealthy woman in a spacious suburban mansion, sent a wave of irritation through him. This house, by contrast, was falling apart. The paint on the walls was peeling, the kitchen faucet dripped constantly, and the ceiling fan in the living room creaked whenever it turned. Despite all this, Julie always kept the place spotless. She would often say, "No matter how little we have, a house should still feel like a home."
Ella, at six years old, was the spark of life in this otherwise weary home. She was cheerful and mischievous, a whirlwind of energy with a laugh so bright it seemed almost immune to the struggles around her.
"Hey, Keller!" Ella's voice rang out as she bounded out of her room. She was wearing a loose, slightly too-big pink pajama set and waving an old wind chime in her small hands. "Look! Do you think it still works?"
Keller turned to see his little sister darting across the room, shaking the chime so hard it gave off an uneven jingling sound.
"Don't run so fast—you're going to trip!" Julie called from the stove, her worry apparent in her voice.
"I won't!" Ella shot back with a giggle. But almost immediately, her foot caught on the edge of her slipper, and the wind chime nearly went flying.
Keller reached out and grabbed it just in time. Examining the bent metal pieces and chipped paint, he gave it a careful shake. The chime let out a faint but lingering sound, delicate and worn, like a memory holding on against the odds.
"It still works," Keller said, ruffling Ella's messy hair. He forced a small smile, hoping to mask the weight pressing on his chest. "Just a little quieter than before."
"Hey! Stop messing up my hair!" Ella pouted, brushing his hand away before bouncing off to hang the chime somewhere she deemed "important."
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the floor as Keller slumped onto the worn-out sofa. He opened his chemistry textbook, trying to focus, but his thoughts wandered. He was the pride of the family—straight A's, a model student destined for something bigger. But that didn't make the pressure any easier to bear. His dream was simple: get into a good college, land a stable job, and pull his mom and Ella out of this sinking ship of a house.
"Keller, can you check the faucet? I think it's leaking again," Julie called from the kitchen.
With a sigh, Keller set his book aside and got up. He crouched under the sink, inspecting the pipes, and sure enough, another joint had started dripping.
"This place is falling apart," Keller grumbled, tightening the loose connection. "I don't know how much longer it's going to hold up."
Julie knelt beside him, dabbing his face with a dish towel. Her touch was gentle, her smile faint but steady. "Don't worry, honey. Things will get better. Like they say, 'Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise.'"
Keller looked at her, his chest tightening with a mix of love and frustration. He knew those words were more for herself than for him, a fragile hope she clung to despite everything.
"Are you going?" Julie asked suddenly, her voice tentative.
"Going where?" Keller straightened up, puzzled.
"He called. He said he wants you and Ella to be there."
Keller let out a bitter laugh. "He wants us there. To see how great his life is while we're here fixing leaky faucets?"
Julie didn't respond. She knew how deeply Keller resented his father and how tightly he held onto that anger.
He turned away, staring out the window. His father's new life filled him with disgust, but Ella… Ella still clung to the idea of their dad as a figure to admire, someone she wanted to see again. Keller exhaled slowly, feeling the edges of his resolve soften.
Maybe he needed to go—not for his father's sake, but to protect his little sister's fragile view of the world.
As the faint chime of the wind bell echoed from Ella's room, Keller glanced at the sunlight streaking through the cracks in the walls. The sound was faint but persistent, just like their little family—battered but still holding on.