Beyond The Envy

That night, Hester wept until exhaustion claimed her, her pillow marked by the evidence of her tears when she awoke to the intrusive beep of her alarm clock at 7 AM. The sting of tears lingered as she checked the time, longing for the aroma of her mother's famous pancakes, yet greeted only by the imagined scent of the ocean breeze and the sight of tranquil waves caressing the shore from her window.

Disheartened, she shuffled out of bed, slipping into her slippers and calling out for her father as she descended the stairs. The sight that greeted her in the living room was jarring - her father, normally punctual, lay sprawled asleep on the couch, a bottle of beer in hand. It was an unsettling revelation; her father, she had believed, would never indulge in such habits. The weight of disappointment settled upon her, mingling with her thoughts, "Mother wouldn't have allowed this..."

With resolve, she ventured into the kitchen, resigning herself to the task of preparing breakfast. Tears pricked her eyes as memories of her mother's culinary lessons flooded her mind. Placing plates on the table, she joined her father, offering a gesture of prayer, only to be met with his silent indifference as he began to eat. Though disheartened, Hester ate in silence, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken emotions.

Later, she observed her father's solitary sorrow in the living room, clutching his bottle of solace. Retreating to her room, Hester found no solace in sleep as darkness enveloped her surroundings. Tears continued to trace her cheeks as she flinched at the sound of shattering glass, her father's anguish manifesting in destructive outbursts. With a trembling voice, she called out to him, receiving no reply. Clutching her blankets tightly, Hester attempted to find refuge in slumber, her heart heavy with concern and fear.

Endless nights echoed with the torment of shouting, the crash of glass, and her father's anguished cries, his longing for his beloved wife permeating the quiet of their home. "My love..." his whispered words drifted up the stairs, mingling with Hester's own tears as she wept in her room. Though she understood his grief, she yearned for him to be more than just a mourning husband during those harrowing nights, to embrace his role as her father amidst the silent turmoil. Each night dripped with sorrow, etching its mark upon Hester's soul.