Saturday mornings were supposed to be fast. For most kids his age, it was a time for video games, hanging out with friends, or sleeping in. For Ethan, it was just another chance to work.
He stood in front of the mirror, buttoning up his old shirt. The fabric was worn thin at the elbows, the collar frayed. Behind him, his mother stirred from her bed.
"Ethan, are you going to school again today?" she asked, her voice weak but curious.
He nodded, smiling faintly. "Yeah, Mom. We have to finish the group project. It's due Monday. I'll be home late, but don't worry."
She frowned slightly. "On a Saturday? They're really working you hard."
Ethan forced a laugh. "Yeah, but it's fine. It'll be fun." He grabbed his bag, waved quickly, and left before she could ask more questions.
The moment he stepped out, the smile dropped. His feet were already heavy, but there was no choice.
---
Ethan's first stop was a small café near the main street. He tied on the apron, already smelling the strong coffee beans roasting.
"Ethan, hurry up! Two orders waiting!" the manager barked from behind the counter.
"Yes, sir!" Ethan rushed to serve the drinks, careful not to spill them.
But no matter how hard he tried, someone always found fault.
"You're too slow!" a customer snapped when Ethan placed the cup on her table. "Do you expect me to sit here all morning?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again," Ethan bowed slightly, gripping the tray tighter.
Behind him, one of the older workers smirked. "Newbie mistake. Don't worry, kid, you'll get used to being yelled at."
Ethan smiled weakly. He knew they were supposed to help him, but instead, they shoved the hardest tasks onto his shoulders. Cleaning tables, mopping floors, carrying trays twice his size it was all dumped on him.
By noon, his arms ached and his feet throbbed. But he couldn't stop.
---
After his café shift, Ethan ran to his second job, a small convenience store tucked in between tall buildings. He put on the uniform quickly and bowed to the store owner.
"Late again," the owner muttered, checking his watch. "You're lucky I still keep you."
"I'm sorry, sir. The café ran over," Ethan explained, but the man waved him off.
"Stock those shelves. And don't touch your phone. You're here to work."
Ethan nodded and got to it. The boxes were heavy, each one filled with bottled drinks. He lifted them carefully, stacking them one by one.
But halfway through, a coworker called out. "Hey, Ethan, cover the register for me. I need a break."
Ethan hesitated. "But… I'm not really trained"
"Just do it!" the older boy snapped, already walking out with his phone in hand.
Ethan stood at the register nervously. The line grew fast. One customer glared at him when he fumbled with the scanner.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" the man muttered.
"I-I'm sorry. Just one moment…" Ethan's hands shook as he scanned the items again, finally getting it right.
When the shift ended, he sat behind the counter, drained. His stomach growled, but he didn't dare spend his little earnings on food. Instead, he sipped water and told himself he could wait until dinner with his mom.
....
The sun had set by the time Ethan reached his last job of the day. The diner was small and crowded, filled with the smell of grease and fried food.
"Ethan, take that table's order!" the head waitress shouted.
He hurried over with a notebook. "Welcome, what can I get for you tonight?"
The family barely looked at him. They rattled off their orders quickly, and when Ethan repeated them back, the father frowned.
"Didn't I say extra ketchup? Are you deaf?"
"N-no, sir, I'll make sure it's right." Ethan bowed and rushed to the kitchen.
The cook scowled. "You're late again, kid. Hurry up. We don't have time to babysit."
The night dragged on with spilled drinks, impatient customers, and coworkers who shoved the dirtiest jobs onto him. By the time the last table left, Ethan was scrubbing the sticky floor while the others leaned against the counter chatting.
He glanced at them, then lowered his head. It doesn't matter. Just keep going. For Mom.
---
By the time Ethan stepped out of the diner, it was nearly midnight. His whole body ached. His shirt was stained, his shoes worn down from running all day.
But as he walked home, he whispered to himself, almost like a prayer.
"Just a little more. Just hold on. Mom needs this. I can handle it. I have to handle it."
The streets were quiet, the only sounds the hum of distant traffic and the occasional bark of a dog. His stomach twisted with hunger, but he ignored it. The small bills in his pocket were worth more than any meal.
When he finally reached their small rented house, the lights inside were still on. He paused, forcing himself to straighten his back and put on a smile.
He couldn't let his mother see how much he was breaking.
Not yet.
....
The door creaked softly as Ethan stepped inside, careful not to make too much noise. The faint smell of garlic and onions hit him immediately. His mother was at the stove, stirring a small pot with her usual patience. The tiny kitchen was dimly lit, the single bulb above flickering every few seconds.
"Ethan," she called, smiling tiredly as she turned. "You're home. Took you long enough. That group project must have been harder than you thought."
Ethan dropped his bag onto the chair and forced a grin. "Yeah, Mom. It was tough. We couldn't agree on who would do what, so it took forever."
She chuckled lightly and turned back to the stove. "That's how group work is. But it's good you're learning how to cooperate." She carefully lifted the pot and set it on the small wooden table, steam rising from the simple stew inside.
"Sit, eat before it gets cold," she said warmly.
Ethan sat down quickly, his stomach growling at the smell. He picked up his spoon and started right away, eating fast. The taste wasn't anything fancy just broth, vegetables, and a few thin slices of meat but to Ethan, it was comfort.
His mother sat across from him, watching him shovel food into his mouth. Her brow furrowed. "Ethan, you've been at your classmate's house the whole day. Didn't you eat? They didn't offer you anything?"
Ethan froze for a second, then smiled as if it were nothing. "Oh, I did, Mom. I actually ate a lot. They were really kind kept serving me food since I was their guest. I just… got hungry again on the way home." He scooped another spoonful into his mouth and added with a laugh, "Besides, your cooking still tastes better. Nothing beats Mom's stew."
Her worried look softened into a smile. She shook her head gently. "You and your sweet mouth. You'll make any mother proud with words like that."
Ethan chuckled, trying to hide the guilt pressing down in his chest. The lie slipped out too easily now.
They ate together quietly, the sound of spoons against bowls filling the small space. For a brief moment, it felt normal like the world outside didn't exist, like it was just them and their little home.
His mother stood up after finishing her bowl, wiping her hands on a cloth. "I'll get some water," she said, walking toward the sink.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, still smiling. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll get it"
But before he could finish, she froze mid-step. A small drop of red fell onto the floor. Then another.
"Mom?" Ethan's voice tightened.
She touched her nose, confused, as blood trickled down onto her hand. Her knees wobbled.
"Mom!" Ethan shouted, springing up from his chair.
The glass she was reaching for slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. She swayed once, then collapsed, her body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
"Mom!" Ethan's voice broke as he rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside her. Panic surged through him, his heart pounding wildly.
He shook her shoulder lightly, terrified to hurt her. "Mom! Wake up! Please, wake up!"
Her eyes fluttered weakly, her lips pale as she tried to breathe. The blood smeared across her hand made Ethan's stomach twist in fear.
"No, no, no… please, not this" His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes as he held her trembling hand.
The room spun around him. The stew's smell was gone, replaced by the sharp metallic scent of blood. The broken glass on the floor glistened under the flickering light.
"Mom, please," he whispered desperately. "Stay with me. Don't leave me. I'll fix this I promise, I'll fix this!"
His body shook as he shouted again, louder this time, his voice echoing through the small rented house.
"MOTHER!"
The world blurred into chaos after that. Ethan didn't remember how he managed to carry his mother out of the house, only that his arms trembled as he screamed for help into the night.
A neighbor rushed out, eyes wide at the sight. "What happened?!"
"It's my mom! Please, she she collapsed!" Ethan cried, his voice cracking with panic.
Within minutes, a tricycle was arranged, then an ambulance. The flashing red lights painted the streets as Ethan clutched his mother's hand, refusing to let go. The ride was a blur of sirens and shallow breaths.
"Stay with me, Mom. Please," he whispered again and again, pressing her cold fingers to his forehead.
At the hospital, nurses rushed them through the sliding doors. The bright white lights burned Ethan's tired eyes. A doctor appeared, barking orders as they lifted his mother onto a stretcher.
"You can't come in," a nurse told him firmly, stopping him at the door.
"But that's my mom! Please, let me"
"Wait here. We'll do everything we can."
The door shut in his face, leaving Ethan alone in the cold hallway. His chest heaved, tears stinging his eyes. His hands were still stained with her blood.
He sank into the chair, gripping his bag tightly. For the first time, he felt the full weight of how fragile everything was.
And for the first time in years, Ethan prayed.