The Invisible String

Chapter 1

"She's not bad," Charlotte admitted to herself, though she couldn't ignore the occasional flicker of attraction she felt. It was ridiculous, she told herself firmly. She was married, and this woman was just a coworker. A coworker who, admittedly, looked annoyingly good in black.

By lunch, the kids were settled at their tiny tables with sandwiches and juice boxes. Charlotte and Mia stood off to the side, watching over them while eating their own lunches.

Mia broke the silence with an observation, her tone as neutral as always. "It's interesting how parents often spoil their younger kids more than their older ones."

Charlotte glanced at her, unsure where this was going. "What do you mean?"

"I've noticed it a lot," Mia continued, her eyes scanning the room. "The youngest ones often get away with everything because the parents are too tired to enforce rules. They end up raising little brats half the time."

Charlotte's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "That's a bit harsh," she said, her voice tight.

"It's true, though," Mia said, shrugging. "Not always, but often enough. The older kids get disciplined more because the parents still have energy. By the time the younger ones come along, it's all 'whatever makes them happy.'"

Charlotte set her fork down, a flare of indignation rising in her chest. "That's not fair. Parents do their best with the resources they have. You can't just assume they're spoiling their kids."

Mia turned to look at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. "I'm not assuming anything. It's just an observation."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't make observations like that without knowing the full picture," Charlotte snapped, her voice louder than she intended. Several of the kids looked up from their lunches, startled.

Mia's expression didn't change, but her tone grew sharper. "I'm not saying it to be cruel. It's just the truth. And sometimes, the truth isn't comfortable."

Charlotte's hands clenched at her sides. "There's a difference between speaking the truth and being tactless."

Mia took a step closer, her gaze steady and unwavering. "And there's a difference between being honest and sugar-coating everything so no one's feelings get hurt."

The tension between them crackled like static electricity, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Charlotte felt her cheeks flush, partly with anger and partly with something she couldn't quite name.

Marjorie chose that moment to walk in, her cheerful voice cutting through the tension. "Everything okay in here?"

"Perfect," Mia said smoothly, her stoic mask firmly back in place.

"Fine," Charlotte muttered, turning away.

But as the afternoon wore on, the weight of their argument lingered, and Charlotte couldn't shake the feeling that Mia had seen right through her.

Dinner time at the Henderson household was usually a chaotic mix of noise and laughter, with Grace and Felicity at the center of it. Tonight, however, was different. The girls were at each other's throats over a puzzle they were trying to complete in the living room, their high-pitched bickering echoing through the house.

"It's my turn to put the piece in!" Felicity shrieked, clutching a puzzle piece tightly in her small hand.

"You're doing it wrong, like always!" Grace shot back, her arms crossed in defiance.

Charlotte was at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with a little too much force, her nerves already frayed from the day at work. She glanced at Charles, who was slouched on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if oblivious to the commotion around him.

"Charles," she said, her voice firm. "Can you step in, please? The girls are driving each other crazy."

He didn't even look up from his phone. "They'll figure it out," he said with a shrug.

"Charles," she repeated, her tone sharper this time. "They're not figuring it out. They're screaming at each other. They need you to step in."

He sighed, finally glancing up. "What do you want me to do? They're just kids. Let them fight it out." His tone was indifferent, almost bored, as if their daughters' conflict was beneath his notice.

Charlotte set the knife down and turned to face him fully, her frustration bubbling over. "I want you to be a parent. They need you to meditate, to teach them how to handle disagreements. You can't just sit there and ignore them."

Charles rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his phone. "I'm tired, Charlotte. I've been at work all day."

"And I haven't?" she shot back, her voice rising. "I've been working too, and then I came home to manage everything here. The least you could do is help."

Before he could respond, Grace stormed into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. "Mom! Felicity said I'm dumb!"

Felicity trailed behind her, arms crossed, looking defiant. "She was hogging all the pieces!"

Charlotte crouched down to their level, her heart aching as she tried to diffuse the situation. "Girls, this isn't how we talk to each other. Grace, you're not dumb, and Felicity, calling your sister names isn't okay."

"But she—" Felicity started, but Charlotte cut her off gently. "We'll talk about fairness in a minute, okay? First, I want both of you to apologize to each other."

Grace mumbled an apology, and Felicity followed, though neither looked particularly sorry. Charlotte sighed, exhausted from playing referee yet again.

"Charles, can you at least help them finish their puzzle?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

"I can't," he replied flatly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. "I'm hungry. Why isn't dinner ready yet?"

Charlotte stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. "Dinner isn't ready because I've been dealing with everything else!" she snapped. "You've been sitting there doing nothing while I juggle a million things, and now you're upset because you're hungry?"

His face darkened. "Don't start, Charlotte. You know I've been stressed at work."

"And I'm not?" she fired back. "Do you even see what's happening here? The girls are fighting because they feel like I'm the only one paying attention to them. You're their father, Charles. They need you."

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You're blowing this way out of proportion," he said, his voice cold. "Just... make dinner, Charlotte. I don't need a lecture."

Charlotte watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps retreating upstairs echoing through the house. The weight of his dismissal pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

That night, after the girls were finally asleep, Charlotte couldn't bring herself to lie next to Charles in their bed. The thought of his indifference, his complete lack of effort, was too much to bear. Instead, she tiptoed into the girls' room and slid into the small twin bed next to Felicity's.

Felicity stirred and opened her eyes sleepily. "Mommy? Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to be close to you and Grace tonight," Charlotte whispered, brushing her daughter's hair back from her face. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

As Felicity's breathing evened out, Charlotte stared up at the ceiling, tears stinging her eyes. She thought about the argument at lunch with Mia, the way her bluntness had irritated her so much. Maybe it wasn't Mia's words that had struck a nerve, but the uncomfortable truth behind them. Was she raising her girls in a home where they felt like they had to fend for themselves because one parent didn't show up?

She thought about how Mia's unwavering gaze had made her feel seen, in a way Charles hadn't in years. And that thought scared her more than anything.

As the night stretched on, Charlotte held her daughters close, feeling their small, warm bodies curled against her. They were the reason she stayed, the reason she tried so hard. But in the silence of the night, she couldn't help but wonder: how long could she keep holding it all together by herself?