The coughing started before the first light of dawn broke through the filthy, cracked windows.
It was harsher this time—deep, rattling, the kind of cough that seemed to drag his very soul up with every painful breath.
I stumbled into my father's room, the floor cold beneath my bare feet, my chest tightening at the sight before me.
He lay there, sunken into the thin mattress, his skin pale and waxy against the faded pillow. His chest heaved with shallow, ragged gasps, and his frail hands clutched weakly at the blanket, as if even that thin fabric was slipping away from him.
"Dad… please, hold on," I whispered, kneeling at his side. My hands trembled as I wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, my tears falling before I could stop them.
His eyes fluttered open, dull and clouded, yet still trying to focus on me. His lips parted, cracked and dry.
"Medicine…," he rasped, the word barely audible.
My heart clenched painfully.
The medicine bottles on the table were all empty. I had scraped together the last coins two days ago, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
"Don't worry, Dad," I lied, my voice cracking. "I'll find it. I'll get the medicine. Just… hold on for me."
Behind me, tiny footsteps padded softly against the floor.
I turned to see Emma, standing quietly in the doorway, her small arms hugging her thin shoulders, her big eyes brimming with worry far beyond her years.
"Mommy… is Grandpa going to heaven?"
Her words pierced through me sharper than any knife.
May peeked out from behind her sister, her thumb stuffed into her mouth, tears silently streaming down her chubby cheeks.
How could I answer that?
How could I explain death to children who still flinched at loud voices and door slams, who had already lived through nightmares most adults couldn't imagine?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my lips into a trembling smile.
"No, baby… Mommy's going to find help. Stay with Grandpa, okay? Watch over him for me."
Emma nodded solemnly, her little jaw clenched like she was trying to be brave.
But as I turned to leave, I heard May's tiny, broken voice behind me.
"Mommy… don't… don't leave us too…"
My knees almost buckled under the weight of her words.
I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood.
No more tears. Not now. Move.
I ran through the streets with nothing but sheer desperation driving me forward.
Every pharmacy I approached turned me away.
"Sorry, miss. No credit. No handouts."
"Business is business."
Those words felt like slaps to my already bruised heart.
My feet were blistered and bleeding, my breath shallow and ragged.
I stopped in the middle of the marketplace, my legs giving out as I sank to the cold concrete, the world spinning around me.
My hands pressed flat against the ground, my forehead resting against my trembling fists.
"Please… someone… help me…" I sobbed, my voice lost beneath the noise of passing strangers.
But no one stopped.
People walked past me as if I were nothing more than a stain on the dirty pavement.
Invisible. Unseen. Forgotten.
And right there, under the blinding glare of the midday sun, I broke.
My shoulders shook violently as I cried harder than I ever had before.
Not just from helplessness… but from the terrifying realization that maybe… maybe this was it.
Maybe I wasn't strong enough after all.
Maybe life wasn't going to get better.
And for a single, terrifying moment, I believed it.
I believed this was where my story would end—on my knees, begging the world for mercy it refused to give.
But then…
A soft, familiar kick fluttered inside me.
My son.
Even in my lowest moment, even as my body shook with exhaustion and grief, that tiny life inside me reminded me—Mommy, I'm still here. Don't give up on me.
I pressed my trembling hands against my swollen belly and lifted my head, my vision blurry but my resolve returning, even if just a little.
I wasn't done.
Not yet.
And no matter how broken I felt… I had to keep moving.
For them.
For the tiny lives waiting at home.
And for the small heartbeat still fighting inside me.