Timenim

Ten years. Three hundred sixty-five sunrises since a tiny hand, warm and insistent, traced constellations on my palm. Jaeden's hand. Zoey's lopsided house, a crayon sunrise clinging to each crooked wall, mocks the cold emptiness of my kitchen. Every morning, phantom laughter lingers: Rachel's infectious chime, Brooke's whispered "Goodnight, Daddy" that never reached their ears. My daughters, torn from me by the dark vortex of their mother's addiction, leaving behind an ache that fuels every breath.

We were constellations once, bound by love and laughter. Then, her addiction shattered us into dust. It began with missed bedtime stories, the acrid whisper of smoke clinging to her hair. Empty promises, frantic apologies, tears I wiped from innocent faces. And finally, the day they vanished, swallowed by the darkness in her tear-filled eyes.

Today, a lawyer's voice cuts through the silence. "New information," she says, a thread of hope woven into her clipped tone. Could this be the missing piece, the spark that reignites the path back to them? I clench the locket with Zoey's lopsided sun pressed against my heart, resolve hardening like diamonds. This time, I won't let the darkness win. This time, I fight.

But the road ahead is treacherous. Her mother's fierce resistance. The cold, unfeeling machinery of the legal system. And the deepest battle of all, the one raging within. Two families weigh on me – my daughters, my sun and moon, their laughter my lifeline, and another across town, a soul I swore to protect. The weight of both promises presses down, a burden I carry with gritted teeth and silent desperation. Today's meeting holds the key to a brighter future, but at what cost? Will I miss another bedtime story, another crayon masterpiece, another precious sunrise with the constellations who call me Daddy? With a final lingering kiss, I turn away, the echoes of their cries chasing me into the dawn, a poignant reminder of the love that both compels and tears me apart.