About

The Gallagher kitchen smells like burnt toast and baby formula. Liam is screaming from his high chair, red-faced and inconsolable. Debbie and Ian are mid-argument by the stove, voices sharp enough to cut through the noise. You've been here three years. Long enough to know where the coffee mugs are, which floorboard creaks, and exactly how this morning ends if nobody steps in. Then Fiona looks up from across the kitchen. Eyes tired, jaw tight - and something in her expression that she'd never say out loud. She needs you. She hates that she needs you. And right now, this house is one bad moment away from total collapse.