Leah slipped through the kitchen door, careful not to make a sound. But the old wood groaned beneath her feet, and her mother, already in the kitchen, turned sharply. The space between them had always been wide, but it had only grown since her father's death and her mother's remarriage.
Her mother didn't speak as Leah clung tightly to her bag. The silence that hung between them was thick, suffocating. Leah could almost hear her mother's words, the ones she had repeated for years...You were the reason he died. You're the one he chose to save.
Leah knew the truth, her father had sacrificed himself for her. The cost had been his life, and her mother never let her forget it.
"How was your day?" Leah asked, her voice tentative, unsure if she'd spoken at all. She felt small under her mother's gaze, but she clung to the hope that her mother might still love her.
Her mother didn't answer, the only sound the hiss of the pan as she stirred the meal. Leah's throat tightened. The words felt hollow, meaningless in the vast space between them.
She thought about telling her mother about the clinic, about the doctor's words. Leukemia, the cruel echo of her father's illness. But the hope the doctor had given her...a chance at remission, not a guarantee...seemed fragile, barely enough to hold on to.
Her mother had never dipped into her own pockets for Leah. She never would. That was a truth Leah had long since accepted.
Still, she lingered by the doorway for a moment longer, wishing for something, anything, to break the silence. But the room only felt colder.
With a sigh, Leah retreated to her room, the familiar weight of rejection pressing down on her chest.
The room was unchanged, a stark reminder of the life she had lost. Books and old dolls, relics of a happier time, sat quietly in their places. She collapsed on her bed, letting the weight of the day settle over her.
From her bag, she pulled out a note. It had been her father's gift to her, a simple thing, a list of dreams they had once shared. Leah unfolded it, her fingers tracing the familiar writing.
"Things Leah wants to do with Daddy."
Her father's handwriting. His love was still in these words, even though he was gone. Leah closed her eyes, pressing the note to her chest. Maybe she thought, maybe I still have time.
Leah sat on the edge of her bed, the old list spread out before her. The title at the top...Things Leah wants to do with Daddy...seemed like a whisper from a distant past. Her fingers traced the words, the ink slightly smudged from years of handling. She exhaled slowly, picked up her pen, and flipped to a fresh page in the notebook.
The words came to her in a steady stream, deliberate and final:
Live Before I Die.
Her chest tightened as she stared at the new title. The meaning was heavier now, more real. She didn't have the luxury of waiting anymore. If her days were numbered, then each one had to count.
Her pen moved across the page:
1. Treat myself to something indulgent.
2. Go somewhere I've never been.
3. Dance under the stars.
4. Eat something ridiculously expensive.
5. Try something that scares me.
She stopped writing and read through the list again. Each item carried a weight she hadn't anticipated, but it also brought a flicker of excitement she hadn't felt in a long time. Her lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile. She had a plan, but a new problem loomed large, money.
Leah leaned back against the wall, the pen still in her hand. Her allowance barely covered the basics, let alone the kind of indulgences she wanted to pursue. She tapped the pen against the page, her mind racing. If she wanted to do this, to really live, she needed to find a way to fund her list.
The next afternoon, Leah wandered through the town center, her eyes scanning shop windows and bulletin boards for job postings. She stopped abruptly when a small handwritten flyer caught her eye:
Help Wanted – Afternoon Shift. Weekly Wages Paid.
The address pointed to a bakery a few streets over. Leah read the flyer twice before tearing it down. The idea of working made her nervous, but the thought of not even trying was worse.
When she reached the bakery, the scent of warm bread and sugar wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. The large display window revealed rows of golden pastries and crusty loaves, each more inviting than the last. She hesitated at the door, her fingers brushing against the worn flyer in her hand. Then she pushed it open, the bell overhead chiming softly.
The woman behind the counter glanced up from a tray of freshly baked rolls. She was in her fifties, her apron dusted with flour and her graying hair tied back in a loose bun. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.
"Hello, dear," the woman said warmly. "What can I do for you?"
Leah clutched the flyer tightly. "Hi. I saw this." She held it out, her voice steady despite the knot of nerves in her stomach. "Are you still looking for help?"
The woman wiped her hands on her apron and took the paper, her eyes flicking over it before landing back on Leah. "We are. Do you have any experience working in a bakery?"
Leah shook her head. "No, but I'm a quick learner. I promise I can do the work."
The woman studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. "What's your name, love?"
"Leah Ashbourne."
"Well, Leah, I'm Mrs. Radcliffe. If you're serious about working, why don't you come in tomorrow after school? We'll start you off light, packing pastries, stocking shelves, that sort of thing. If it works out, we'll go from there."
Leah blinked, her chest loosening with a rush of relief. "Really? Thank you. I won't let you down."
Mrs. Radcliffe chuckled, her laughter light and kind. "You just focus on doing your best. See you tomorrow."
As Leah walked home, the slip of paper with her shift details tucked safely in her bag, the weight in her chest lifted just a little. The bakery's warmth lingered with her, a small spark of hope igniting inside. For the first time in years, she felt as though she'd taken a step toward something, something more than waiting for the inevitable.
Leah stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of lavender and something faintly sweet greeting her. Her heart sank as she heard the muffled sound of quiet sobbing from the living room. It was Seraphina.
Leah hesitated at the threshold, her gaze flicking toward the couch where her step-sister was hunched over, her shoulders shaking in what appeared to be distress. Seraphina's fiery red hair cascaded around her face, but it was the way she cradled herself in the dim light that caught Leah off guard. Tears streaked down her porcelain cheeks, making her look almost… fragile. Leah's mind immediately pushed the notion away—fragile was not a word she associated with Seraphina. Not with the way she could wield her beauty like a weapon, or how she could manipulate anyone who came close enough.
But despite the tears, there was something too calculated about her posture, something that felt entirely off. Leah took a breath, her feet shifting toward the stairs, desperate to escape whatever drama was unfolding in front of her. She wasn't about to get involved in Seraphina's games.
However, her intentions were thwarted when her mother appeared at the top of the stairs, her expression hardening as soon as she saw Leah.
"Leah," her mother snapped, her tone sharp enough to make Leah flinch. "Come here."
Leah's steps faltered as she turned to face her. She saw her mother's eyes flicker with annoyance, but it was the tension in her voice that made her chest tighten.
"What now?" Leah asked, her voice low but weary. Her mother, as usual, did not acknowledge her mood.
"Seraphina's pearl necklace," her mother continued, her tone accusatory. "Where is it?"
Leah blinked, confusion settling over her like a heavy fog. "What are you talking about?"
Her gaze shifted toward Seraphina, who had dried her eyes, but her lips curled into the faintest of smirks. Leah knew that look too well. It was the one that said she was winning a battle Leah didn't even know she'd been part of.
"Her necklace," her mother repeated, her voice growing sharper. "Give it back."
Leah's blood ran cold. She hadn't seen or touched any necklace, pearl or otherwise. She shot a glance at Seraphina, whose gaze locked with hers for a heartbeat too long, that smirk never fading.
Here we go again.
Leah swallowed, resisting the urge to argue. There was nothing she could say that would change her mother's mind when it came to Seraphina. This was another one of Seraphina's silent games, designed to pit her mother against her and strip Leah of whatever small sense of peace she had in this house.
"I don't have it," Leah said finally, her voice betraying no emotion, even though she could feel the familiar swell of frustration rising inside her. Her mother stared at her for a long moment, as though waiting for her to crack, but Leah stood firm, unflinching.
Seraphina remained quiet, but the glint in her green eyes made it clear that she was enjoying this, watching Leah squirm, even if only for a moment.
Her mother sighed in exasperation, her eyes narrowing. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Leah met her mother's gaze, though it felt like looking at a stranger. "I didn't take it."
For a moment, it felt like the world paused. The quiet in the room was almost suffocating, and Leah could hear the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.