That day started just like so many others before it. Sarah’s alarm rang at 5:40 A.M., pulling her from a restless sleep. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, before swinging her legs out of bed.

She dressed quickly and shuffled downstairs, her slippers softly brushing against the hardwood floor.

In the kitchen, she scooped food into Bella’s bowl, the golden retriever wagging her tail eagerly.

“Morning, girl,” Sarah murmured, attaching Bella’s leash and stepping outside for a quick walk in the dim light.

As they returned, Sarah thought of Mark and Ellie’s enthusiastic promises to care for Bella when they’d begged to adopt her. Those promises had faded quickly.

Back inside, Sarah methodically set the table for breakfast, placing bowls and plates in their usual spots.

She began ironing clothes, her mind already planning the rest of the day. After folding the laundry and quickly wiping the bathroom she hadn’t completed last night, she heard the alarms blaring upstairs.

Heading up, Sarah knocked on each door, calling gently, “Time to get up!” Ten minutes later, she repeated the process, her tone firmer.

She returned to the kitchen where she scrambled eggs and poured juice, setting the finished breakfast on the table as the family trickled in.

They ate quickly, Robert glancing at his phone, Mark and Ellie bickering over whose turn it was to sit closest to Bella.

Robert left first, giving Sarah a distracted peck on the cheek. She herded the kids into the car, enduring Ellie’s complaints about being late and Mark’s insistence he couldn’t find his cleats.

Finally, after dropping them off, Sarah leaned back in the driver’s seat and exhaled deeply. Her eyes drifted to the calendar on the dashboard.

A soccer game for Mark. Tutoring for Ellie. Another endless day stretched ahead, and already her body ached with exhaustion.

Suddenly, Sarah’s phone buzzed, startling her as she sat in the car. She hesitated before answering, her heart pounding. “Hello?” she said, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“This is Dr. Bennett from the hospital,” the voice on the other end began. Sarah’s stomach sank.

“We have your test results. I’m afraid it’s not good news. Your condition is serious, and unfortunately, treatment will no longer be effective.”

Her breath hitched. “What… what does that mean?” she whispered, panic creeping into her voice.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said gently. “You likely have less than a year. Perhaps only a few months.”

The phone slipped from her hand onto the passenger seat. Tears streamed down her face as the weight of the news crushed her.

She thought: I’ve spent my whole life for them… but what about me?

When Sarah pulled into the driveway, she sat in the car for a while, staring at the garage.

Her thoughts raced as the weight of the morning’s news settled heavily on her chest.

Finally, she stepped out, opened the garage door, and was greeted by the smell of dust and forgotten memories.

She dug through old boxes until she found them—her canvases, brushes, and paints.

Her hands trembled as she touched the faded materials, her mind flashing back to the dreams she once held so tightly.

Life had swept her away, one responsibility after another: marriage, kids, and an endless to-do list.

Her dream of becoming an artist had been buried under it all. She sighed deeply and carried the supplies into the house.

Inside, chaos greeted her—dishes piled high, shoes scattered, and Bella’s leash abandoned on the floor.

Instinctively, Sarah began tidying, but as she passed the hallway mirror, her reflection stopped her in her tracks.

Her tired eyes, wrinkled shirt, and unkempt hair reflected someone she no longer recognized.

Enough was enough. Sarah opened her phone, booked a salon appointment for the next day, and vowed: If I only have a few months left, I’ll live them for me.

That afternoon, she started clearing the garage. It would become her studio, her space to reclaim herself.

When the kids returned home, Sarah sat on the couch, flipping through a book. She didn’t look up when Mark entered the room.

“Mom, why didn’t you come to my game?” Mark asked, frowning.

Ellie followed, crossing her arms. “And you were supposed to drive me to my tutor. I had to go by myself!”

Sarah turned a page. “I took the day off. You’re both old enough to figure things out on your own.”

Mark’s stomach growled. “Well, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

“I don’t know. Make something and tell me when it’s ready,” Sarah said, her tone flat.

“Mom!” Mark and Ellie shouted together.

“What now?” Sarah snapped, closing her book. “Every day, I cook, clean, and take care of you. Do you ever say thank you?”

The kids fell silent. Ellie glanced at Mark, then muttered, “Fine, I’ll make mac and cheese.”

“Good. Make enough for your dad too. He’ll be home soon.”

When Robert arrived, the kids bombarded him with complaints. He found Sarah in the living room.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“I’m tired, Robert. I’m not your nanny or the kids’ servant,” she said.

He sighed. “Alright, I get it. Take a break,” he said, kissing her forehead.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, but Sarah stayed in bed. She only stirred when Robert’s frustrated shouts broke the silence.

“I’m going to be late!” he yelled, rushing around. Sarah heard him knocking on the kids’ doors, their groggy complaints echoing upstairs.

She stretched slowly, got up, and went downstairs. The kitchen was cluttered with dishes and crumbs from last night, but Sarah walked past it. She brewed coffee and sat quietly, sipping it.

As the family came downstairs, their eyes widened at the empty table.

“Where’s breakfast?” Ellie demanded, scanning the counter.

“And lunch for school?” Mark added, looking confused.

Robert joined them, frowning. “Didn’t you make anything for work either?”

Sarah sipped her coffee and set it down. “If you want breakfast, wake up earlier and make it yourself.”

“What’s that smell?” Mark asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Bella peed in the kitchen,” Sarah replied, her tone flat.

“Mom! Why didn’t you take her out?” Ellie cried.