《Sovereign Hearts》


 Chapter One

    The day started like it always did¡ªwith my alarm blaring at exactly seven a.m. I groaned, blindly reaching out to slam my hand down on it, silencing the piercing noise. Rolling onto my back, I blinked against the harsh morning light streaming through my window. For a few sluggish moments, I debated going back to sleep, but the inevitability of responsibility won out. With a resigned sigh, I forced myself upright and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.


    The bathroom tiles were cold against my feet as I shuffled in for a quick shower, hoping the warm water would jolt me awake. It helped¡ªsomewhat. The rest of my morning routine passed in a blur as I moved through it like a zombie. Another day, another boring routine.


    Business school was, honestly, mind-numbing. It sucked. But I was good at it. Numbers came easily to me, and leadership had always been one of my strengths. So why not do something that combined both? Grace Winters, second-semester college student, just hoping this semester would fly by as fast as the first. A girl could dream, couldn''t she?


    By seven-thirty, I dragged myself downstairs to the familiar scent of bacon sizzling on the stove. My mom stood at the counter, moving like she''d been up for hours¡ªwhich, knowing her, she probably had.


    "Morning, sweetheart," Mom greeted me, turning slightly to smile.


    "Morning," I mumbled back, still half-asleep as I slid onto a stool at the kitchen counter. A glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice was already waiting for me, and I took a grateful sip.


    Mom plated two slices of crispy bacon and a fried egg, setting them in front of me with practiced ease. "Eat up. Big first day back."


    "Ugh. I know," I groaned, picking at my food. "Don''t remind me."


    Mom shot me a look. "Now, none of that. You''ll be grateful when you''re holding that degree in your hands."


    "Yeah, only three grueling years to go," I muttered with a dramatic sigh before taking a bite of bacon.


    Before Mom could reply, Dad entered the kitchen, already dressed in a crisp button-down and slacks. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead as he passed. "Gotta head out early, but I''ll see you two tonight for dinner," he said, grabbing the lunch Mom had packed for him. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek in thanks before hurrying out the door.


    I watched him leave, then turned back to my food, finishing the last few bites as Mom settled at the dining table and flipped open her laptop.


    "How many new orders?" I asked, rinsing my plate in the sink.


    "Twenty-three," she said, a proud smile on her lips. "I want to get a good chunk of them done today."


    "I''ll help when I get home," I promised, grabbing my bag. "But I''ve got an eight-thirty class, so I need to head out."


    Mom barely looked up, already focused on her work. "Drive safe. Love you."


    "Love you too!" I called over my shoulder as I walked out the door.


    The drive to campus was uneventful¡ªjust thirty minutes of half-paying attention to the road while a true crime podcast played in the background. Before I knew it, I was parked and making my way to the lecture hall.


    The professor droned on, his voice a dull hum against the scratch of pencils and the occasional cough. Like most students, I had given up trying to take notes and simply set my iPhone on the desk to record. There was no point in pretending I could keep up¡ªhe never paused, never slowed down. I''d learned that lesson the hard way last semester.


    A soft nudge against my arm broke me out of my daze. Emily leaned closer, her voice just above a whisper. "You coming over after class?"


    I glanced at her, taking in her usual sleek ponytail and bright hazel eyes. We weren''t best friends, but we were good friends¡ªcomfortable enough to lean on each other when needed.


    "Can''t," I murmured, tucking a loose strand of my brunette hair behind my ear. "Dad''s working late, and Mom doesn''t like being home alone all evening."


    Emily pouted. "But I''m inviting people over. You need to come."


    I gave her an apologetic smile. "Next time, I promise."


    She sighed but nodded before turning her attention back to the lecture.


    The next hour dragged on, and by the time class ended, I practically bolted for the door. Math was up next¡ªfinally, something I actually enjoyed. No endless monologues, just straightforward problem-solving. I thrived on that.


    The rest of the day passed in a blur. Before I knew it, I was back home, stepping into the comforting scent of cinnamon and fabric softener.


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    Mom sat at the dining table, surrounded by skeins of yarn, her fingers expertly weaving together strands of soft green and blue. Her usual focused expression was tinged with something heavier today.


    I set my bag down and slid into the chair beside her. "What''s the next one?"


    "A baby blanket," she said, her voice softer than usual. "For a funeral."


    My stomach twisted. I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. I hated these kinds of orders. It meant a child¡ªa baby¡ªhad passed. Mom never charged for them.


    Wordlessly, I reached for the yarn and began crocheting alongside her, making sure every stitch was perfect.


    "Did you refund the buyer?" I asked quietly.


    She nodded. "Of course. You know I won''t let them pay for it."


    I exhaled slowly and gave her a small, understanding smile before refocusing on the work in front of me. Some things were too important to put a price on.


    For the next few hours, we worked side by side, chatting as we packed up orders that needed to be shipped soon. Mom had turned her love of knitting and crocheting into a small business, selling her handmade goods online. It had started as a hobby¡ªshe used to gift scarves and blankets to friends and family.


    "Remember when you made Aunt Lisa that bright orange sweater?" I asked, folding a soft blue shawl into tissue paper.


    Mom groaned, tying a twine bow around a package. "Ugh, don''t remind me. I thought it was such a nice shade at the time."


    "It was highlighter orange."


    She laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, fine. Maybe my color choices weren''t great back then. But hey, she wore it."


    "Because she loves you," I teased.


    At first, she had been hesitant to sell her work, brushing off the idea when I first suggested it. But with a little nudging, she opened an online shop, and orders started trickling in. Now, it was more than just a side hobby. We still donated plenty, but the sales helped her afford better supplies and expand her craft.


    She wasn''t making a fortune¡ªmaybe a few hundred dollars a week¡ªbut it was steadily growing.


    "And now look at you," I said, scanning the list of orders. "You''ve got ten sales just today."


    "Crazy, right?" she said, placing another finished package in the box. "I never thought people would actually want to buy my stuff."


    "They do," I said firmly. "And they will keep wanting more."


    It was also great practice for me. Managing profits, tracking expenses, and making adjustments¡ªI was basically her business partner. And, honestly, I kind of loved it.


    Dad got home around six-thirty, right on time for dinner. Usually, he was back by four, but sometimes work kept him late¡ªwhether it was paperwork piling up or a last-minute meeting. It didn''t happen every day, but often enough that we hardly questioned it anymore.


    I heard the familiar jingle of his keys as the front door opened, followed by the creak of his leather briefcase hitting the floor. The scent of his aftershave mixed with the aroma of warm garlic and rich tomato sauce, creating the comforting blend I had grown up with.


    Mom had just finished setting the table when he walked in, loosening his tie with one hand and ruffling my hair with the other.


    "Smells amazing," he said, pressing a quick kiss to Mom''s cheek before rolling up his sleeves.


    "Lasagna night," she replied, her voice carrying that soft warmth that only came when she was in her element, cooking for the people she loved. She grabbed the garlic bread from the oven, the butter sizzling against the golden crust. "Go wash up."


    Dad chuckled, already making his way to the sink. "Yes, ma''am."


    I set the last few forks on the table and took my usual seat, already looking forward to the meal. Lasagna night had been a staple in our house for as long as I could remember, a tradition that never changed no matter how busy life got. It was one of those little constants I had come to appreciate.


    As soon as we sat down, we all fell into our usual rhythm. The lasagna was perfect¡ªthick layers of pasta, sauce, and cheese melting together in a way that made my stomach growl in anticipation. I took a bite, savoring the warmth, letting it settle the tension I hadn''t realized was there.


    Dad barely got a forkful in before glancing at me. "Why didn''t you go to Emily''s after school?" he asked, chewing thoughtfully.


    I wiped my mouth with a napkin, swallowing before answering. "I wanted to help Mom finish some orders, so I told her I''d hang out another time."


    Mom shot me a small, grateful smile as she reached for her glass of water. "That was really sweet of you, Grace. I got more done today than I expected."


    "That''s nice and all," Dad said, pointing his fork at me, "but you should still make time for yourself. Emily''s been your friend forever¡ªdon''t start flaking on her now."


    I smirked. "I know, I know. I''ll see her soon."


    Satisfied, he turned back to his plate, and the conversation shifted. Mom asked about his day, and he launched into a detailed recap of his meeting with company executives¡ªsomething about new policies, budget constraints, and upcoming changes.


    I tried to listen, but soon, their voices became background noise as I focused on my food. The lasagna was warm and filling, the garlic bread perfectly crisp. I twirled my fork through the last few bites, my thoughts wandering.


    Outside, the sky had darkened into deep navy, the first few stars beginning to flicker through the gaps in the clouds. The kitchen lights cast a golden glow over us, making the moment feel almost frozen in time¡ªsimple, comforting, familiar.


    By the time we finished eating, I felt the weight of the day creeping in. I pushed my chair back and stretched, suppressing a yawn. "I''m gonna head up and get ready for bed."


    Mom looked up from her water glass, her expression soft. "All right, honey. Sleep well."


    Dad gave me a nod. "Night, kiddo."


    I smiled at them both before making my way upstairs, my footsteps soft against the carpeted hallway.


    As I walked down the hall, I paused outside my parents'' bedroom for a moment, hearing the soft murmur of their voices as they cleared the table. I didn''t know why I lingered. Maybe it was the comfort of knowing they were there, of knowing I could count on them to be in the exact same places, doing the same things, every night. Something about that felt grounding. Safe.


    I shook off the thought and continued to my room.


    Once inside, I let out a sigh, kicking off my shoes and stretching my arms over my head. The day had felt long, and I was more than ready to unwind.


    My nighttime routine was the same as always¡ªshower, brush my teeth, scroll mindlessly through my phone before deciding there was nothing interesting, then watch a little TV until my eyelids grew heavy.


    As I lay in bed, the soft hum of my ceiling fan spinning lazily above me, I thought about Emily. She had texted me earlier, just a simple:


    "Wish you were here! Movie night isn''t the same without you!"


    I had meant to reply, but I got caught up helping Mom, then dinner, then everything else. I''d figured I''d text her in the morning.


    Now, I picked up my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. A quick reply wouldn''t hurt.


    "Sorry I missed it! We''ll hang soon, I promise."


    I hesitated for a second, my thumb hovering over the send button. A strange, unshakable feeling crept up my spine¡ªone I couldn''t quite name. Like I had forgotten something important or that something was about to change, though I couldn''t pinpoint why.


    Before I could talk myself out of it, I hit send.


    I exhaled, setting my phone on my nightstand, rolling onto my side, and tucking my blankets up to my chin.


    Downstairs, I could still hear the faint sounds of my parents moving around the kitchen, rinsing dishes and locking up for the night. It was familiar, routine¡ªthe kind of background noise that made me feel safe, like everything in the world was exactly as it should be.


    Maybe tomorrow, I''d finally say yes to Emily''s invite. Maybe we''d have another movie night, and I''d make up for missing this one.


    That was the last thought I had before sleep claimed me.


    And I had no idea it would be the last normal night of my life.