Kings And Harts ( ON HOLD)

The persistent voice of my almost four-year-old nephew, Tommy, pierced through my sleep. "Mommy! Mommy! It's time to wake up!" he shouted, his small voice bright with excitement, despite the early hour of six in the morning.

I groaned, pulling the covers tighter. "Tommy, baby, it's too early to be up. How 'bout you go back to bed?" My voice was thick with sleep, a raspy whisper against the pre-dawn quiet. He bounced on the edge of my bed, a tiny, insistent force.

"But mommy, I'm not sleepy and you promised to take me to the park before you went to work," he countered, unleashing his secret weapon: the puppy-dog eyes that unfailingly melted my resolve. Crap. I knew I shouldn't have promised. My recent paycheck had made me reckless, a temporary flush of relief leading to a promise I hadn't fully thought through.

But he deserved it. Stuck indoors most days with Miss Barnes, our kind but elderly neighbor who babysits him, Tommy needed fresh air. A long, weary sigh escaped me. "You win, kiddo. Why don't you go get ready while I freshen up?" I said, resignation heavy in my tone.

"Okay mommy! Thank you so much!" He squealed, planting a quick, sticky kiss on my cheek before scampering off. His joyful energy was a stark contrast to my own bone-deep fatigue, but it was also the only reason I kept going. Just yesterday, it felt like, my brat of a sister had left five-month-old Tommy on my doorstep with a callous note. Three and a half years ago, and I hadn't heard from her since. To be honest, I didn't care. Tommy was my world now, my most important person.