The morning began like any other, with an unsettling calm that blanketed the Rivera apartment. Emma was the first to wake, as always. She shuffled into the kitchen, her slippers scuffing against the hardwood floor. The stillness in the air was heavier today, a weight pressing on her chest.

  Mom’s door was still closed, the faint hum of her work computer seeping through the cracks. She had been buried in work ever since Dad’s death, retreating further into her tasks as if they were the only thing keeping her together. Emma couldn’t remember the last time Mom had come out for breakfast—or for anything other than a quick coffee refill.

  Emma opened the fridge and frowned. Barely anything was left. A couple of eggs, a nearly empty carton of milk, and a sad loaf of bread. Mom hadn’t gone shopping in weeks.

  Noah shuffled into the kitchen, his stuffed dinosaur clutched tightly in one hand. His pajamas were rumpled, and his eyes still held the haze of sleep. “I’m hungry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

  Emma ruffled his hair. “I’ll make you something. Don’t worry.”

  Noah climbed onto one of the kitchen stools, his legs swinging idly as he watched her. “Where’s Mom?”

  “In her office,” Emma said. Her tone was sharper than she intended, but she didn’t correct it.

  Aidan stumbled into the kitchen next, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He looked as exhausted as ever, his hair sticking up in all directions. “What’s for breakfast?”

  “Whatever we can scrape together,” Emma replied, rummaging through the pantry.

  Aidan groaned, leaning against the counter. “This place is falling apart. Mom’s too busy. Dad’s...” He trailed off, the words hanging in the air like a bad taste.

  Emma ignored him, grabbing the eggs and bread. She cracked the eggs into a bowl, stirring them with a fork. “I’ll make scrambled eggs and toast. It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

  The toaster had been acting strange lately, sometimes emitting a faint burning smell even when it wasn’t in use. Emma noticed the smell again as she set the bread aside.

  “Emma, it’s smoking,” Aidan said, pointing to the toaster.

  She frowned and saw thin wisps of smoke curling up from the slots. “Great,” she muttered, unplugging it. “It’s probably just dust inside or something.”

  Grabbing a dishcloth from the counter, she draped it over the toaster to smother the smoke and turned her attention back to the eggs.

  Noah, growing impatient, wandered over to the counter. “Can I help?”

  “Not now, Noah,” Emma said without turning around.

  Aidan leaned against the fridge, watching lazily as Noah hovered near the toaster.

  A minute later, Emma heard it: a faint crackling sound. She turned and froze. Flames were licking up from beneath the dishcloth, the fabric now ablaze.

  “Oh my god!” she shouted, rushing to pull Noah away.

  The fire spread quickly, the cloth acting as fuel. Aidan swore under his breath, grabbing a nearby pitcher of water. He hurled it at the flames.

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  “No, don’t!” Emma yelled too late.

  The water hit the toaster and splashed onto the counter. The flames hissed, then roared higher as the fire caught a paper grocery bag sitting nearby.

  “Mom!” Emma screamed, panic tightening her chest.

  Mom’s door flew open, and she appeared in the hallway, her face pale and stricken. “What’s happening?”

  “The kitchen’s on fire!” Aidan shouted, his voice cracking.

  Mom rushed to the sink and yanked out the fire extinguisher stored below. With trembling hands, she pulled the pin and aimed it at the flames, releasing a thick spray of foam.

  The fire hissed and died, leaving behind a scorched counter and the acrid smell of burned fabric and melted plastic. The silence that followed was deafening.

  Mom dropped the extinguisher with a loud clatter, her face pale and drawn. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

  Emma stepped forward, her hands shaking. “It wasn’t— I didn’t think—”

  “You didn’t think,” Mom interrupted, her eyes blazing. “You put a cloth over a smoking toaster! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

  “It was just smoking a little,” Emma said weakly. “I didn’t think it would—”

  “That’s the problem!” Mom snapped. She pointed to the scorched counter and the destroyed toaster. “This could have been so much worse! What if the fire had spread to the curtains? To the whole apartment?”

  Noah’s sobs grew louder, and Emma instinctively pulled him closer, shielding him from Mom’s anger. “It was an accident,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “An accident that could have killed us all!” Mom shouted, then stopped herself, running a hand through her hair. She turned away, breathing heavily.

  Aidan finally moved, stepping forward with a grim look. “It’s not all Emma’s fault. I saw the toaster smoking and didn’t say anything right away. We’re all tired, okay? This isn’t just on her.”

  Mom’s shoulders slumped, her anger deflating into something that looked like exhaustion. She pressed her fingers to her temples, her lips trembling. “This family is falling apart,” she whispered.

  The words hit Emma like a punch to the stomach. The weight of everything—Dad’s death, Mom’s distance, the chaos of their daily lives—pressed down on her all at once.

  Noah sniffled, clutching his dinosaur like it was the only thing holding him together. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his small voice barely audible.

  Mom knelt down in front of him, pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay, baby,” she said softly, her tone shifting to something gentler. “I’m sorry too. I’ve been so busy... I should have been paying more attention.”

  Emma felt tears stinging her eyes as she watched them. She glanced at Aidan, who looked just as conflicted, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

  “I’ll clean this up,” Emma said quietly, her voice thick.

  Mom stood and shook her head. “No. I’ll do it.” She paused, looking at each of them in turn. “But this has to stop. We can’t keep going like this. We’re a family. We need to start acting like one again.”

  Emma nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Aidan gave a stiff nod as well, his expression softening slightly.

  For the first time in months, it felt like the tension in the apartment had cracked, letting in a sliver of light.

  “I’ll go get dressed,” Mom said, her voice steadier now. “We’re going grocery shopping together. All of us.”

  Noah’s eyes widened. “Even you?”

  Mom managed a small smile. “Yes, even me.”

  As she left the kitchen, Emma exchanged a look with Aidan. “Think she means it?”

  “I hope so,” Aidan said, leaning against the counter. “Because we can’t keep doing this.”

  Emma looked at the blackened toaster, the foam-covered counter, and the faint scorch marks on the wall. It was a mess—a reminder of how far things had fallen apart.

  But maybe, just maybe, it was also the spark they needed to start piercing their lives back together.