“Everyone… sit down,” I said.Phoebe’s voice trembled. “Where are Mom and Dad?”I opened my mouth.But nothing came out.
A few days later, reality hit harder.Ms. Hart from child services sat at our kitchen table, a thick folder in front of her like a sentence already decided.“The children will need temporary placement,” she said gently.“Together?” I asked.She didn’t answer right away.She didn’t have to.“No.”From the hallway, Lila let out a small, broken sound.I clenched my hands. “They just lost their parents.”“I know, Rowan.”“No,” I said, shaking my head. “If you knew, you wouldn’t be talking about splitting them up like they’re objects.”Her voice softened. “You’re only eighteen. You don’t have a stable income. The house is behind on payments—”“I’ll figure it out,” I cut in. “I’ll work. I’ll learn. Just… don’t separate them.”She sighed. “Love isn’t always enough.”“Then help me learn what is,” I said. “But don’t take them away from each other.”Court was even worse.Aunt Denise arrived dressed like she already owned the outcome. Uncle Warren stood beside her, holding a folder like proof of victory.“I care deeply about the children,” she told the judge, dabbing at dry eyes. “But Rowan is still a child himself. I can take the youngest two until things stabilize.”Phoebe clutched Lila’s arm.I couldn’t stay quiet.“The youngest two?” I said. “Do you even know their names?”
CONTINUE READING…>>
