When Someone Finally Sees You

Tahlia stood in the kitchen with her hand wrapped around a chipped coffee mug. The house was loud—always loud—but her mind was quiet in a way that scared her. Not peaceful. Just... blank. Damon, 15 and surly, stomped through the hallway yelling about a missing hoodie. Dylan, 10, chased Jasper, 5, around the living room with a plastic sword while Cleo, the two-year-old, screamed because someone looked at her snack the wrong way. And Tahlia? She stood at the sink, sponge in hand, staring at a greasy plate like it held all the answers she’d never been given. She was so tired. She didn’t remember the last time someone touched her gently without wanting something. Not a hand tugging for food. Not Marcus’s tired grope under the covers. Just a kind touch. Just someone saying, Hey. I see you. Marcus still called her beautiful sometimes. But only in passing. Only when she’d brushed her hair and put on real clothes. Never when she was crouched on the floor wiping up another spilled drink or dragging herself through laundry at midnight. This wasn’t depression, exactly. This was something else. A kind of worn-out that comes from being the last stop for everyone else—and never anyone’s first. She sat down at the table after the kids left for school, picked up her phone, and typed into the search bar the phrase she’d been too embarrassed to say out loud: “I want someone to take care of me like a little girl. Is that weird?”