The morning sun slipped through the thin curtains of a small rented room. The place was old, the walls faintly cracked, the floor a little uneven, but it was home for Ethan Valen and his mother. Their world wasn't filled with riches or luxuries, only with the warmth of a mother who raised her son alone and a son who carried more responsibility than any boy his age should.
Ethan stood in front of the tiny mirror nailed to the wall, fixing his school uniform. The shirt was already a little worn, the fabric thinning from too many washes, but he smoothed it out carefully. His tie hung loosely at first, but with a patient tug and fold, he managed to make it look proper enough.
Behind him, his mother was setting aside the simple breakfast she had prepared. Just a piece of bread and some coffee. She smiled faintly, though her face carried lines of exhaustion.
"Eat before you go," she reminded him softly, her voice gentle.
Ethan turned and gave her a smile. "I will, Mom. Just a minute."
It was always like this. A quiet routine, a normal start to the day, though behind it was the constant weight of unpaid bills and endless worries. Their rented house was small just one bedroom and a narrow space that served as both living and dining area. Every month, the same fear returned: whether they could pay the rent, or whether they would be forced out.
As if summoned by that thought, there came a sharp knock at the door.
His mother stiffened, and Ethan's smile faded. He already knew who it was.
The landlord.
When he opened the door, a tall man with a stern face stood there, arms crossed. His eyes moved past Ethan and landed on the room inside as if measuring how much longer he'd let them stay.
"It's the eleventh already," the landlord said flatly. "No rent, no room. I can't let you two keep delaying it."
Ethan stepped out quickly, closing the door halfway behind him. He lowered his head slightly, respectful but determined. "Please give us more time, sir. I promise, we'll pay this month. Just… just give me a little more time."
The landlord narrowed his eyes. "You said the same thing last month."
"I know," Ethan admitted, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. "But this time I'll make it. I've been taking extra shifts after school. Just… please. We don't have anywhere else to go."
For a moment, the landlord only stared at him, then let out a sigh and turned away. "Fine. But by the end of this month. If not, you're both out."
"I understand. Thank you." Ethan bowed slightly before closing the door.
Inside, his mother was already sitting at the table, her hands wrung tightly together. She tried to smile when he returned, but her eyes betrayed the worry in her heart.
"Ethan," she began, her voice quiet, "maybe I should look for another job. Something that pays more. I can handle it."
Ethan shook his head firmly and sat across from her. "No, Mom. You've already done enough. You've worked your whole life for me. You should rest more."
"But you're still a student," she argued softly. "Your focus should be your studies, not work. I can manage. I'll just"
"Mom." His voice cut in gently but with certainty. "Let me handle it. I'll figure something out. You don't have to worry."
Her eyes glistened for a moment, but she quickly turned them down, hiding the tears that threatened to fall. All she ever wanted was for her son to live freely, not to be tied down by poverty the way she had been. Yet here he was, carrying burdens he should never have carried.
"You've grown up too fast, Ethan," she whispered.
He smiled faintly and reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. "Don't say that. I'm just doing what I should. As long as you're okay, that's all that matters to me."
For a moment, silence hung in the small room, heavy but filled with unspoken love. Then Ethan stood, picking up his worn school bag.
"I should go. I'll be late if I don't leave now."
His mother looked at him, her lips parting as if she wanted to stop him, to tell him to just be a normal boy, to let the world be cruel while she protected him. But she only smiled, though it trembled.
"Take care, Ethan. And don't skip your meals."
"I won't," he promised with another smile. He slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.
As he stepped outside, the sunlight hit his face, but it felt heavy rather than warm. Every day was the same school, part-time work, exhaustion but he carried it because he had no other choice.
Behind him, his mother watched from the doorway, her figure small against the dim house. She waved faintly, and he waved back before walking down the narrow street.
The world around him was busy, filled with people rushing to work, cars honking, and buildings towering high. He blended into it like any ordinary boy, but inside, Ethan carried a weight far heavier than most.
And though he didn't know it yet, this ordinary day would be one of the last. Life was about to change in ways he could never imagine.
...
The sound of chatter and laughter filled the school corridor as Ethan walked toward his classroom. His uniform was neat, though not new. His shoes were scuffed, the soles already thin, but he kept them clean. He moved quietly, carrying his bag close, his eyes lowered as if trying not to attract attention.
But attention always found him.
"Hey, it's Valen again," a boy's voice called out from behind. "Still alive? Thought your mom finally sold you off for rent money."
A few others snickered, their laughter echoing across the hallway. Ethan didn't answer. He kept walking.
Another boy blocked his way, smirking. "You're late again. What's the excuse this time? Too busy counting coins from your part-time job?"
The group burst into laughter again. Ethan's fists tightened around the strap of his bag, but he said nothing. He knew fighting back would only make it worse.
"Don't ignore us!" the boy shoved Ethan's shoulder, hard enough to almost knock him off balance. "What's the point of coming here, anyway? You can't even pass half your subjects. Everyone knows you're just here to waste space."
Ethan steadied himself, jaw clenched. His grades weren't great. Between late-night shifts and early mornings, studying often fell last. But he still tried because his mother wanted him to. Because she believed he could have a better future if he just finished school.
So he stayed quiet, letting their words fall on him like rain. It stung, but he had grown used to the sting.
"Pathetic," one of them muttered before walking away, the others following with mocking laughter.
Ethan exhaled slowly and continued to class. He sat near the back, away from the noise, and pulled out his notebook. The pages were worn, filled with scribbled notes and half-finished assignments. He stared at them, hearing the faint echo of his mother's voice in his head.
"Study hard, Ethan. Don't give up. Your education will open doors I could never open for you."
That thought alone kept him sitting there, kept him trying, even when every part of him wanted to quit.
The day dragged on. Teachers lectured, students whispered, and every so often, he caught the sound of someone chuckling in his direction. He didn't lift his head. He just kept writing, even when the words blurred from exhaustion.
When the final bell rang, Ethan packed his things quietly. He was about to leave when a voice called from the front.
"Ethan Valen," the teacher said firmly. "Come to the office."
Whispers rippled through the class instantly.
"What did he do this time?" someone snickered.
"Probably failed another exam."
"Or maybe the school finally got tired of keeping him around."
Their laughter followed him out of the classroom like shadows. He ignored it and walked down the hall, his steps steady but heavy.
The teacher's office was a small, stuffy room with stacks of papers and shelves of books. The teacher sat behind the desk, adjusting his glasses as Ethan entered.
"Sit," the teacher said, motioning to the chair in front.
Ethan obeyed, setting his bag on his lap. He stared at the floor, waiting.
The teacher sighed, flipping through a folder before speaking. "Ethan, your grades are falling behind again. This is the third time this term I've had to call you in. If you don't improve, I'm afraid you may not be able to move up next year."
Ethan's chest tightened, but he kept his face calm. "I understand, sir."
"You're a good boy, Ethan," the teacher continued, his tone softer now. "I know you've been working after school. I've heard from the staff. But you can't keep sacrificing your studies. Education should come first."
Ethan finally looked up, meeting the teacher's eyes. There was no anger there, only concern. Still, the words pierced him. He wanted to explain that he couldn't afford to put school first when his mother's health, their rent, and their meals depended on his part-time jobs.
But instead, he just nodded. "I'll try harder, sir."
The teacher leaned back, studying him for a moment, then sighed again. "You may go."
Ethan stood, bowed slightly, and left the office. The hallway outside was empty now, the noise of students replaced by the fading hum of the city beyond the windows.
As he walked out of the building, the evening sun cast long shadows across the ground. He felt small beneath it, but he kept moving forward. For his mother, for the promises he made to her, he would endure it all the laughter, the failure, the endless weight pressing down on him.
Because in her eyes, he wasn't just some poor boy with low grades. He was her son. And that was enough to keep him standing.