The radio had been warning of a severe weather event for hours, but her ego dismissed it as just another media hype.
Yet, here she was, sprawled on her couch, cell phone almost dead, watching online as her city’s power grid crumbled piece by piece, unaware of the true damage outside. The freezing rain—unrelenting and heavy—coated every power line and tree in a slick, deadly layer of ice. But for some miracle, Jade and her two children, Lily and Cameron, still had power in their basement apartment.
Jade’s phone dinged. It was Max. It was always Max. The two of them had been talking nonstop for four years, even when they were together in the same room. They’d tried to make it work so many times—living together, being a family—but their issues always tore them apart. Still, for reasons Jade couldn’t even explain, here they were again. Trying for the twelfth time. If only it meant the nanny would finally stay away.
“Hey, just woke up from my nap,” Max texted her on Facebook.
She stared at the message for a second, then replied, the frustration seeping into her fingers as she typed: “Oh wow, you slept long! It’s 8:00 pm. Do you guys still not have power?”
Max responded with a video. She loved when he did this. His youngest daughter, Celia, appeared from the dark hallway, looking directly into the camera. She squinted a little, her tiny voice muffled but clear as she answered Max’s question about whether or not they had power yet.
Jade couldn’t help but smile, she loved that little girl’s gentle heart and sweet little voice.
She also loved it when Max sent videos of his girls.
She had fought so hard for him to want to include her in their lives, for him to let her see moments like this. But even that small joy carried a bitter undertone. Jade knew that every photo, every video sent her way used to be also sent to the nanny. She knew it, even if Max never said it. And that… that was one of the many things that gnawed at her about the woman who had always been just a little too involved in his family.
March Break had just passed, and Max—once again unemployed—was spiraling about not being able to do anything special with his girls. Then, out of nowhere, he announced that his sister, the one he constantly claimed to not get along with, had invited the kids to spend the day swimming at their parents’ condo while they were away. She’d be staying there with her own kids, and apparently wanted the cousins to spend some time together.
Max made sure to say he wasn’t thrilled about seeing his sister but felt guilty about the girls not doing anything on their break. But, after making it seem like they wouldn’t be going, Jade could hear the relief in his voice on the other line of the phone. He told her the girls had been picked up, and now he was on his way to, in his words, “happily drink all the beer in the fridge.”
Something didn’t sit right.
“Ooo, did lucky Aria get to sit in the front?”
“No, everyone fit in the back” he texted back.
“How did she fit four kids in her car without someone needing to sit in the front?” Jade had asked, eyebrows raised. She’d seen that car—it wasn’t exactly family-sized.
“She has a van,” Max replied without hesitation.
Jade blinked. “No, she doesn’t. I was in her car. It’s a sedan.”
There was a long pause, the kind that always made her feel like she was the problem for noticing things that didn’t add up.
Later, while Jade was at a restaurant with her own kids—one of the few treats she could afford—she texted Max again. She casually asked if he thought his sister might be planning to see Wendy, the nanny. It wasn’t a question she wanted to ask. It made her feel small, insecure. But she had learned to follow the gut feeling that crept up in moments like these.
“Not to my knowledge,” Max replied. Cold. Distant. Quick to change the subject. Made it seem like she was hilarious for even asking. Still, it was the answer she wanted. Or at least, it was the answer she could live with.
Trying to ignore the ache in her chest, hoping she was wrong about her initiative gut, she made a soft, hopeful offer to Max:
“If the power’s going to be out a while, come over here. We still have power and lots of food.”
He responded quickly:
“I’ve been drinking before my nap, but I should be okay and badly want to show you how much I’ve been missing you. I’ll see you soon!”
That little burst of warmth bubbled up in her, despite everything. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe they’d be a family. Just for a night. Her children were ecstatic as they always were to be having them over. They got along so well.
The weather was getting worse by the minute—sheets of freezing rain now turning to sleet, clinging to everything in its path. Jade wouldn’t risk driving in it herself, especially not with the kids, but Max had that beat-up old truck. Rust creeping up the wheel wells, door that didn’t always close properly, heat that worked if you hit the dash just right. It had grit, sure, but it wasn’t exactly reliable—especially not in this.
Still, she knew him. If he had enough gas and a reason to move, he’d do it. And right now, she was his reason. At least… she hoped she was.
“Are you sure you want to drive? We’ll keep you warm though!” she sent, her thumbs hesitating just a second before pressing send.
She stared at the message thread, the three dots appearing for a moment… then disappearing.
No reply.
Her chest tightened. Not from panic, not yet—just that slow-building weight she had come to recognize. That strange cocktail of hope and dread that came every time she offered herself to him.
“Yes, I’ll be fine!” Max assured her, like it was no big deal.
Jade bit her lip and texted again, “Okay, and bring a change of clothes for them and the air mattress, okay?” She hoped he’d remember. He rarely did. It was always on her to think ahead, to prepare for comfort, for chaos, for what the kids would need that he didn’t seem to consider.
Thirty minutes passed. She kept busy—tidying the living room, fluffing pillows, lighting a candle she’d been saving for a “nice night.” Was this a nice night? She wasn’t sure. But it was something. And in her world, something was sometimes enough.
Her phone rang.
“Hey, do you want anything to drink? It took me forever to find a corner store with power.”
She blinked. That was… unexpected. She hadn’t believed he’d make any extra stops, let alone offer. But her lips curved into a cautious smile. Maybe tonight would be lighter. Maybe they could just enjoy something.
She gave him her drink order and added candy requests for Lily and Cameron, imagining their little faces lighting up. But of course—there it was—he asked her for money. She didn’t hesitate. She sent him $30. Because she always did.
Not long after, the silence of the apartment was broken by an excited, chaotic pitter-patter at the door—small feet followed by loud, urgent knocking.
They were there.
Lily beat her mom to the door and swung it open. Max’s girls spilled into the apartment like sunshine through a cracked window—laughing, shouting, boots thudding against the floor. Their joy was big and unfiltered, and it filled the space instantly.
Jade stood still for a moment, letting herself soak it in—the noise, the light, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this would be one of the good nights.
The kids scattered like wind-blown leaves, instantly at home in the space. Toy bins got raided, the karaoke machine came out within seconds, and the living room transformed into a full-blown party zone.
Aria, the oldest of Max’s girls and always a little too grown for her years, quietly took a seat near them on the couch. She didn’t say much, but she listened. She always listened. Jade noticed the way she watched Max—like she was always reading his mood, trying to stay a step ahead of whatever version of her dad might show up next.
Max leaned back, stretching his arms and letting out a loud sigh. “Damn, I didn’t grab any cigarettes,” he muttered. “Jade, can you go out?”
She raised an eyebrow without turning to look at him. “No. I don’t want to go out in that.”
And just like that, he dropped it. No argument. No sulking. She was glad. That alone felt like a small win.
“There were so many street lights out on the way here, but the roads are fine!” Max continued, slipping back into his usual bravado. “I can’t believe you guys still have power. Everyone else I passed was totally out.”
“Yeah… we’re one of the lucky ones so far,” Jade replied carefully. She didn’t want to tempt fate. Every time she leaned into good luck, something came around to humble her. Hard.
Max unpacked the drinks into the fridge, cracked two open handing Jade hers, and for a brief moment, the night felt almost normal.
The two of them on the couch, kids laughing in the background, laughing and catching up like they hadn’t been talking all day. She could pretend that the nanny was gone, but this woman lived in her head. She wanted to pretend tonight though, that they were a family and they would make it work.
But the peace was short-lived…
Now moved from her perch, the oldest daughter was in the bedroom observing the fighting of the two little ones while Cameron stay quite in his room playing his game.
The fight was something about sharing, or someone getting hit, or whatever the usual emotional wildfire of tired kids at the end of a long day is. A door slammed. Then another.
Jade closed her eyes for half a second before pushing herself up from the couch.
She walked down the short hallway to her bedroom and found the two younger kids in full meltdown mode—tears, yelling, toys thrown on the floor.
“Okay,” she said gently but firmly. “Let’s calm down. Who can tell me what happened? And how can I help?”
She knelt on the floor, opening her arms without saying anything else. Lily was the first to crawl into them.
Sometimes love was loud, but sometimes it had to be still.
“I love you, Wendy!” Celia beamed, joy radiating from her little face as she looked directly at Jade like she’d just said something sweet and harmless.
Jade froze.
“Be still, Jade” she tried to get a hold of herself in front of this sweet eight year old, subjected to a sick adult world scheme to keep a motherly nanny turned constant character in their weekly lives with no intention of backing away, using them to pretend they are her own as she trots around town with them.
Jade’s smile cracked, faltered, then dropped entirely. She unfroze. Celia’s expression followed. The girls knew how Wendy made Jade feel.
“You love who?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Wendy who?”
Celia blinked, confused by the tension suddenly thickening the room. Jade’s heart pounded. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called Wendy. And if Wendy was really gone—like Max swore she was—why was her name still echoing from the mouth of a child who shouldn’t even be thinking about her anymore?
Her stomach twisted as she shifted into instinct—fight mode, but still soft, because it was Celia. She hated that she even had to do this. She hated it.
“When was the last time you talked with Wendy?” she asked, crouching down slightly to meet Celia’s eyes. Her voice was calm, too calm. The kind of calm that only came when you were holding in a scream.
Max stayed silent. Frozen on the couch, Cameron now at his side, watching.
“We haven’t talked to her this week!” Celia answered sweetly, proudly, like she was doing a good job.
A cold wave flushed through Jade’s chest. This week? This week?
She felt sick.
“So Wendy never went anywhere, did she?” Jade asked before she could stop herself, the words falling out faster than her guilt could catch them.
Celia shook her head without hesitation. Innocent. Honest.
Max finally got up, storming into the hallway with a red flush creeping up his neck. “You think you can interrogate my daughter?” he snapped. “I don’t think so.”
Jade didn’t look at him. He was right. She knew that. It was unfair, it wasn’t her place—but she also knew what this meant. Her worst fear had been walking around in the shadows of their relationship for months, and now it had a name again.
Still not looking at him, she stood up and smoothed her shirt.
“Let me see your phone, Max.”
Her voice was quiet, almost eerily steady. No yelling. No shaking.
Max didn’t move.
Cameron stepped closer to Jade, sensing something off, grabbing onto her hand like an anchor.
She didn’t budge. Her eyes locked on Max now, sharp and unwavering.
“Let me see it.”
Max pulled out his phone, hands trembling with fury at being caught—again.
“What do you want to see?” he barked, unlocking it and furiously scrolling through messages.
“You’re going too fast—I can’t see anything like that!” Jade said, holding her hand out. “Can I just have the phone?”
Cameron, arms crossed and unimpressed, didn’t miss a beat. “She wants to see all the girls you’re talking to.”
He was only ten, but he’d seen enough of their fights to know exactly what this was.
Max didn’t answer. Instead, he slammed the phone off, shoved it in his pocket, and shouted, “No!”
Then came the switch. Max’s voice turned sharp, commanding: “Come on, girls, we’re leaving.”
It happened that fast. Just like always.
As he barked orders and his daughters scrambled to find their shoes, he spat insults like fire. “You slut,” he muttered. “ They went with her to Hamilton Falls for the night during March Break!” and he let out a gigantic fart.
That’s when it dropped—truth, finally bleeding out in the ugliest way possible.
“You wanna play dirty?” Jade snapped. “Fine. I slept with Calvin. Right on that bed you sleep in every night—the one you stole from me.”
Max stopped. Spun around. Inches from her face now, eyes wide. “Is that true?”
Jade didn’t flinch. She smiled. “Did you really let the girls go with Wendy to Hamilton Falls for March Break while telling me they were with your sister?”
He didn’t answer. He turned away instead. Shame or guilt—either way, he knew she was right.
He yanked his boots on, forgot the alcohol he came with, and stormed for the stairs—those same stairs he once scribbled Max + Jade = love on, like it meant something.
“Slut,” he hissed one last time.
“Please, for my children’s sake—lower your voice,” Jade called after him. “Go have your perfect little family with Wendy.”
The door slammed. The silence that followed wasn’t peace, but it wasn’t war either.
This breakup? This was the one that would stick.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t chase. She grabbed her phone and started blocking every number, every account, every shadow he’d ever left in her life.
Jade was finally standing up for herself, it took a lot and she was really forgiving – but this time she was choosing the best decision that would lead to peace.
This was for Lily hugely. To show her what not to accept in a relationship with unfortunately real life proof of red flags. Love doesn’t look like lies and manipulation, and it doesn’t sacrifice or drain your soul.
The silence settled like snow after a blizzard—cold, but clean.
Jade stood in the middle of her living room, surrounded by scattered shoes, unfinished drinks, and toys that had once echoed with laughter just moments ago. Her heart was pounding, but her hands were steady. Intuitively, she knew this was coming.
She sat down on her couch, her kids returned to doing their own things, and she began scrolling her phone not thinking about the breakup and how she was being lied to for 4 months, that’s when it happened.
The lights flickered, Jade noticed her phone battery was very low, the lights flickered again. Cameron shrieked, his laptop restarted. The lights went out a third time, and did not come back on.
“Quick, before Cameron freaks out about the lights being out, where do I have battery-operated lights?” Jade muttered to herself, her voice strained. She shot up from the couch, her eyes glued to her phone screen, just as she headed toward the bathroom. The LED motion-detection light on the wall would be enough to provide some stability, at least for now. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.”