Chapter Two Life After the Casket
Sunni moved through the days like a ghost in her own life.
Mornings came too fast. Nights dragged too long. But somehow, the sun kept rising, and so did she—even when she didn’t want to.
“Bunny, go get your shoes, baby,” Sunni called from the kitchen.
“I got ’em on, Mama!” Bunny yelled from the living room, spinning in circles like she was on stage.
Natty sat at the counter, legs swinging, syrup on her chin from the Eggo waffle Sunni toasted—not cooked, just toasted, ‘cause cooking felt like a betrayal. Marcus used to do breakfast. Now breakfast was quiet.
Kane was packing everyone’s lunch like clockwork. Ham sandwiches, Capri Suns, fruit cups. She didn’t say much anymore, just moved like someone twice her age. Prince helped her sometimes, but he preferred standing near the door like security.
Dexter complained. “Why I gotta go to school? Daddy wouldn’t make me go if I didn’t feel good.”
Sunni swallowed the lump in her throat. “Your daddy would want you to go. Now come on before we all late.”
School drop-offs felt like the only time Sunni could hear herself think—and the thoughts weren’t kind. They whispered things like You ain’t enough. They deserve better. You ain’t built for this life alone.
She’d never worked a day in her life. That was Marcus’s thing—bringing in the money, protecting the house. Her job was loving her family. Now she had to do both, and she didn’t know where to start.
After drop-off, she’d come home to silence. No giggles. No screaming. No cartoons. Just her and the walls—and the bills Marcus left behind.
Water. Lights. Car note. Mortgage.
She stared at the stack of unopened envelopes like they were written in another language. The little savings Marcus left behind barely lasted six months. Bills did not care that she was grieving, and pride was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Sunni sat at the kitchen table and opened her old laptop. Dusty. Slow. Familiar.
She typed into the search bar:
“Jobs in Eads TN with no experience”
The results made her heart drop—fast food, retail, overnight cleaning. She was thirty-four with five kids and a high school diploma. The world didn’t have room for women like her.
But she kept scrolling.
Because she had no choice.
Later that night, with the kids finally asleep, Sunni sat on the edge of her bed. The dating app icon stared back at her from her phone like a dare.
She hadn’t touched it since her sister downloaded it for her six weeks ago. “You ain’t gotta marry nobody. Just practice talking again,” she said.
Sunni opened it. Her profile was half-filled. A blurry picture, a sentence that said, Mother of five. Widowed. Not looking for games.
She sighed. Deleted it. Rewrote it.
Sunni. Thirty-four. Raising five blessings and trying to find my way again. I love God, quiet mornings, and laughing till I cry. If you’re fake, broke in the spirit, or scared of realness—keep scrolling.
She stared at it for a long time before hitting save. Not because she was ready to love again—she didn’t even know if she believed in love anymore. But she wanted to feel something. Even if it was just seen.
Then her phone rang.
Blocked number.
She paused.
Her chest tightened.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A pause.
“Is this Sunni Lane?”
“…Yes.”
“I don’t know how to say this but… I think we need to talk. It’s about Marcus.”