Monday morning arrived with the grey precision of a factory whistle. Ashley heard the familiar rumble of Fred’s car pulling up to the curb. Going outside, he gave his workmates a quick wave, a clumsy, childish signal to continue without him. Their reciprocal wave and the roar of the car driving off felt like a small, hollow victory. It wasn’t long before a knock echoed through the quiet house. He knew without a doubt it was Mrs. Jean, arriving earlier than usual as he had requested.

He opened the door, and as Mrs. Jean stepped inside, Abbey ran to her, a tiny, desperate blur of motion, throwing herself into the loving woman’s arms. Over a cup of tea, Ashley shared the details of the weekend’s upheaval. Quinn’s cold, dispassionate farewell on Friday now made heartbreaking sense to Mrs. Jean. With a comforting gesture, she squeezed Abbey a little tighter, her gaze fixed on the little girl’s head buried in her apron. It didn’t escape Ashley when a lone teardrop escaped Mrs. Jean’s eye and traced a path down her cheek. It was a single, silver testament to the genuine care she felt, and it reassured him that Abbey would be loved in the coming days.

Ashley promised to return as early as possible, then left for work. The day felt long and heavy. He was late, but his manager, having heard his story, was understanding. He immersed himself in his work, a welcome distraction from the turmoil at home. At lunch, he called Mrs. Jean to check in. To his relief, she told him, “Instead of doing the housework, I chose to spend time playing Monopoly with Abbey. It’s her favourite game, and she seems to be winning.” A small, genuine smile touched Ashley’s lips as he hung up. For a moment, the world felt a little less broken.

His hope of an early return was dashed when the team needed to stay late to catch up on a rush job. Finally arriving home, he was met with a surge of relief from both Mrs. Jean and Abbey. He suspected that Abbey, in her little mind, had been wondering if he, too, had “skipped out” on her. After apologetically explaining his lateness, he watched as Mrs. Jean left, promising to return early the next day. Heading into the kitchen, he saw the pots on the stove and whispered with a wry smile, “Thank you, Jean. You truly are a marvel.”

He showered before mealtime, the looming task of informing his family weighing heavily on his mind. As he came out of the bathroom, he saw Abbey sitting on the floor, curled up beside the door, waiting for him. The image of her quiet vigil pierced his heart. He scooped her up, and she flung her arms around his neck, holding on as tight as she could. He carried her to the kitchen for supper, but the food was still hot. Instead, they took their plates into the living room, where he turned on the TV to a cartoon. For a little while, Alvin’s antics kept her amused, a fleeting moment of childlike normalcy in the chaos.

Throughout the day, Ashley had rehearsed different scenarios for how he would break the news to his family. He knew Quinn wouldn’t have called anyone. Late that night, his suspicions were confirmed. Once their “TV dinner” was done, he told Abbey he needed to make some important calls. Lost in her show, she nodded her agreement without looking up.

His first call was to his parents. His mother, Clodagh, took the news with a quiet strength, but his father, Colin, flew off the handle, a tirade of expletives and fury. As they talked, his sister, Gail, overheard and, in a fit of rage, called Quinn some names that are best left unsaid. Clodagh, always the voice of reason, interrupted the chaos. “How is Abbey?” she asked, a gentle urgency in her voice. Ashley reassured her that Abbey was holding up, but he admitted that the initial shock had broken her heart into a million pieces. His mother offered to come and help, and for the first time, a wave of relief washed over him.

The next call was the most challenging: his father-in-law, Ethan Murphy. Ethan had never approved of him, and their conversation was a stark contrast to the previous one. Ethan, showing no concern for his granddaughter, launched into a vicious attack, calling Ashley a “misfit” who should never have been allowed to marry his daughter. To Ethan, Quinn was a fallen angel who could do no wrong. But Ciara, Quinn’s mother, was different. With a quiet, commanding voice, she brought the conversation to order, asking about Abbey. Ashley recounted the events as best as he could, and with nothing left to say, he hung up.

When he turned around, his breath hitched. Abbey was standing in the kitchen doorway, her sad green eyes swimming with tears. He didn’t know how long she had been there or what she had heard, but the tears were his only answer. He gestured for her to come to him. As he picked her up, he tried to comfort her, but the new flow of tears seemed endless. The full weight of their situation settled over him—a long, difficult road lay ahead, especially for Abbey. Still carrying her, he began to walk up and down the hallway, all the while reassuring and calming her down. Overwhelmed by grief, she eventually fell asleep in his arms. He carried her to the bedroom and gently tucked her in, knowing that sleep was the only rest she could find.

After cleaning the supper dishes, he set his alarm and went to bed, exhausted. As his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The piercing ring of the alarm clock woke him, and as the fog cleared from his mind, his first instinct was to check on his daughter. The last couple of days had taxed her young spirit to the maximum. She was still fast asleep, her body and mind taking advantage of the chance to finally rest. For the next several days, this would be their new normal, a new chapter in their lives that would soon include the much-needed help and support of his mother.