The mall was alive with music, glittering lights, and last-minute shoppers preparing for the New Year. For Dawn and her siblings, it felt like stepping into another world—a world they hadn't touched since their parents passed.
Amy tugged on Dawn's hand as they admired a window display. The twins trailed behind, mock-arguing about which sneakers looked better. For once, their laughter wasn't forced. For once, they looked like normal kids.
Dawn's phone vibrated in her pocket, shattering the moment. She stepped aside, waving to her siblings. "Keep looking, I'll be back in a sec."
"Hello?" she answered.
"Dawn, it's Daphne." The woman's voice was sharp with urgency. "I need you here right now. Adam's losing it again."
Dawn hesitated, glancing back at her siblings' carefree faces. "I'll come. Give me a little time."
"Please—hurry," Daphne said before hanging up.
When Dawn rejoined the others, Amy's eyes were on her, far too knowing for a ten-year-old.
"Was that CPS?" she whispered.
The question hit Dawn like a slap. She'd almost forgotten Amy had overheard yesterday's tense visit. The twins, still distracted, looked up at the word.
"CPS? What's that about?" Leslie asked.
"Are they… are they going to separate us?" Jason added, his voice small.
Dawn forced a steady breath. She gathered them close, her voice firm but soft.
"Listen to me. Yes, CPS came by yesterday. But no one is taking you from me. I'm your mother, your father, your sister, your friend—all of it. And we'll stay together. Do you understand?"
The three of them nodded in unison, clinging to her. Dawn hugged them tight, as if her arms could shield them from the whole world. After paying for their bags, they headed home, arms full of shopping, hearts a little lighter.
That night, the apartment buzzed with life. They strung paper lanterns across the living room, taped makeshift streamers, and laughed as Jason nearly toppled the Christmas tree still standing in the corner. The smell of popcorn filled the air. For a moment, grief and fear loosened their grip.
Later, Dawn kissed the twins goodbye as they dashed off to a friend's party. She bundled Amy into her coat, and together they headed to the Manchesters'.
Daphne opened the door before Dawn even knocked twice. "You came," she said warmly, bending to smile at Amy. "And you must be Amy. Come in, sweetheart."
Amy's shyness melted quickly under Daphne's kindness. While Amy followed her into the kitchen, Dawn climbed the stairs, pausing outside Adam's door.
She knocked. No answer. Slowly, she turned the knob. The room smelled faintly of cologne and dust. Adam sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched, staring at nothing.
"Hey, Adam," Dawn said softly.
He blinked at her, startled. "Who are you?"
"A friend," she replied with a small smile.
"I don't remember asking for one. What's your name?"
"Dawn Collins. You don't know me yet, but I know enough to care."
Adam's mouth tightened. "What do you want?"
"Nothing. Just to talk. Maybe go for a walk?"
He looked at her as if she were speaking another language. Then he stood abruptly. "Maybe another time." Without another word, he left the room, leaving Dawn staring after him.
Downstairs, she found Amy giggling with Daphne over slices of cake. For a moment, Dawn's heart softened—Amy's laughter was the kind of sound she wished she could bottle forever.
"You okay?" Daphne asked, noticing her expression.
"Yeah. Didn't mean to interrupt," Dawn said, forcing a smile.
Later, when Amy was distracted, Dawn leaned closer to Daphne. "There's something I need to tell you."
She broke down. Words tumbled between sobs—the CPS visit, losing her job, the constant fear of losing her siblings. Daphne listened, her hand warm and steady on Dawn's shoulder.
"You're not alone anymore," Daphne said firmly. "I'll help you."
For the first time in weeks, Dawn let herself believe it.
Across town, Peige lounged on her sofa, half-watching TV when a knock came at the door. She rolled her eyes. "If that's Dawn again…"
"It's me, Mom. Tara."
Peige froze, then hurried to open the door. Her daughter stood there with a bright smile, and Peige pulled her into a hug.
"Welcome home, darling," she said warmly. Tara had been away for years, studying in another city after her parents' divorce.
They chatted until Tara asked, "Will Dawn and the kids celebrate New Year with us?"
Peige's face soured. "No. She's ungrateful. Hasn't visited me in years."
Tara frowned. "Really? That doesn't sound like her."
Peige leaned in, lowering her voice. "She's not the girl you knew. She lives in luxury without a job. Rumors say she's… selling herself."
Tara stiffened, shock flashing across her features. The Dawn she knew as a child—bright, kind, fiercely loyal—was now painted as a stranger.
She didn't want to believe it. But doubt had already been planted.
New Year's Eve descended on New York. Streets glowed with lights, fireworks cracked in the distance, strangers kissed at midnight in Times Square. But inside the Manchester mansion, the mood was muted, heavy as always.
Dawn arrived with presents, hugging Daphne before heading upstairs again. She found Adam in his room, sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the wardrobe.
"I brought good news," she tried brightly. "We'll celebrate New Year together—with Ava. How does that sound?"
Adam's jaw clenched. "Please, leave me alone. And stay away from Ava."
The words stung, sharper than she expected. She had come hoping for progress, a smile, even a sliver of trust. Instead, all she found was a wall. She left quietly, forcing a smile for Daphne downstairs.
At home, she joined her siblings outside, their faces lit by the glow of fireworks. They counted down together, voices ringing with hope.
"Three, two, one—Happy New Year!" They embraced, laughter spilling into the cold night air. For a moment, they were safe.
The next day, Daphne set a feast and welcomed Dawn, Amy, and the twins. The table glittered with dishes, laughter, and warmth—except Adam's chair sat empty.
Dawn excused herself, determination hardening her steps. She climbed the stairs and opened his door again.
"Fancy your clothes, huh?" she teased gently, seeing him still staring at the wardrobe. No answer.
She sat beside him, their silence stretching. Slowly, she reached for his hand.
"Everything's going to be alright," she whispered.
Adam pulled his hand away. "Get out."
Something in her snapped. Instead of leaving, she leaned closer—and kissed him.
The shock of it silenced them both. Dawn's heart pounded in her chest, unsure whether she had just broken through his walls or built them higher.