Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn - Chapter 2

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Chapter 2: The Weight of Love


The wind howled through the rusted beams of the Maplewood docks, carrying the sharp tang of diesel and the briny stench of fish. Eleanor Whitmore pulled her threadbare coat tighter around her thin frame, her breath forming ghostly puffs in the frigid air. The docks were alive with noise—shouted orders, the groan of pulleys, the thud of crates hitting wooden planks. Men twice her size moved with practiced ease, their muscles straining under the weight of their loads. And there she was, a woman barely five feet tall, slipping into the line of workers as if she belonged. One more sack. Just one more dollar. Her hands, already raw from the cold, burned as she gripped the rough burlap. The foreman barely glanced at her as he tossed another sack her way. She caught it with a grunt, the impact shuddering through her bones. The weight threatened to buckle her knees, but she straightened, swallowing the pain. She couldn’t afford to slow down. Not when Henry’s medicine was running low, not when five little girls needed breakfast in the morning. A few feet away, hidden behind a stack of empty crates, Olivia Carter watched with wide, tear-filled eyes. She had woken the moment her mother’s footsteps faded down the creaky stairs. Curiosity had driven her to follow, but now, crouched in the shadows, her stomach twisted with something far heavier than curiosity. Her mother looked so small. The dockworkers moved like giants around her, their laughter rough and careless. Eleanor didn’t laugh. She didn’t complain. She just worked, her face set in quiet determination, even when her arms trembled under the weight of another crate. Olivia’s fingers dug into the splintered wood of the fence, her breath hitching as she saw her mother stumble—just for a second—before righting herself. I have to help her.


The thought burned through her like a brand. She was twelve. Old enough to understand the numbers in the ledger her mother hid under the mattress. Old enough to hear the whispered arguments about bills and debts. Old enough to know that the cough rattling her father’s chest wasn’t just a cold. A gust of wind bit through Olivia’s thin sweater, but she barely felt it. Her eyes stayed fixed on her mother, on the way Eleanor wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist, leaving a smudge of dirt. The foreman barked an order, and Eleanor nodded, moving to the next stack without hesitation. Olivia’s throat tightened. She had always known her mother worked hard—had seen the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her hands shook sometimes when she poured their tea. But this? This was something else. This was bone-deep weariness, the kind that settled into a person and never left. She couldn’t just stand here and watch. The resolve hardened inside her, sharp and unyielding. She would find a way. Maybe she could take on odd jobs after school. Maybe she could convince the grocer to let her sweep the floors for a few coins. Whatever it took, she would do it. A distant whistle signaled the end of the shift. Eleanor straightened slowly, pressing a hand to the small of her back before joining the line of workers collecting their pay. Olivia ducked lower, her pulse racing. She couldn’t let her mother see her here. With one last glance, she turned and slipped away, her footsteps silent against the damp pavement. The cold air stung her cheeks, but the fire in her chest kept her warm. By the time she reached home, her tears had dried, leaving only determination in their wake. Inside, the house was still and dark. The soft breathing of her sisters filled the tiny bedroom—Hannah curled around a tattered stuffed bear, Charlotte sprawled like a starfish, the twins tangled together under their shared blanket. Olivia tiptoed past them, easing back under her own covers just as the front door creaked open downstairs. She closed her eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of her mother returning—the rustle of her coat being hung, the muffled sigh as she sank into a chair. A floorboard groaned under her weight, then silence. Olivia clenched her fists under the blanket. I won’t let her carry this alone. The promise settled deep in her heart, as unshakable as the love that had birthed it.