Dawn never came softly in the Hart household.
It arrived sharply, like an alarm bell with no mercy, creeping through the thin curtains of the tiny room Elina shared with her younger brother, Liam. The sun wasn't even properly up yet, but the cheap digitalclock beside her mattress blinked 4:20 am. Three minutes before it screamed her awake. Three minutes of peace she couldn't afford.
Elina inhaled slowly, counting her breath the way she used to when life didn't feel like it was crushing her ribs. When mornings didn't start with exhaustion and end with more exhaustion. When she wasn't juggling three jobs and a mother who grew weaker each passing week.
She turned her head slightly.
Liam was curled at the far end of the narrow mattress, his hair wild, his face slack in childlike sleep, though he wasn't a child anymore. Fifteen going on thirty, with how quickly life had forced him to grow up. One arm was half hanging off the bed, his breathing deep and even.
At least one of them was sleeping properly.
"Elina?" Liam murmured, voice thick with sleep."Shh…" she whispered, tucking the blanket over him. "Go back to sleep. I'm just getting ready."
His eyelids fluttered, but he obeyed, sinking back into dreams.
Elina slipped out of the bed carefully, feet touching the cold floor. She shivered. The tiny apartment never held heat well. Too many cracks, too much wind sneaking in from walls that probably should've been replaced ten years ago.
She padded quietly across the room, grabbed her work uniform, a black T-shirt and jeans for her morning café shift and tiptoed into the small bathroom. The mirror was cracked, but she'd memorized her reflection long ago.
Pale. Tired. Eyes with permanent shadows beneath them.
Twenty-one-year-old women weren't supposed to look this worn down.
But then again, most twentyenty-one-year-olds weren't working three jobs, taking care of a sick mother, and shielding a younger brother from realities he wasn't ready to face.
Elina splashed water on her face and tied her hair into a loose ponytail. She didn't have time for makeup, even if she owned any. She pressed her palms against the sink, grounding herself.
Another day. "Just survive another day" she said to herself.
A weak cough came from the room across the hall.
Her heart squeezed.
She left the bathroom and stepped into the small corridor. Their mother's door was slightly open. She pushed it softly and peeked inside.
"Mom?"
Her mother lay curled under thin blankets, skin pale, lips dry. Her breathing was shallow, but steady. She opened her eyes slowly when Elina entered.
"Morning, sweetheart," her mother whispered.
"You're awake early," Elina said softly as she approached the bed.
"It's hard to sleep through the…" Her mother paused, wincing as another cough wracked her body. "....pain."
Elina's throat tightened. "Did you take your pills last night?"
Her mother nodded weakly. "They help… a little."
"I'll pick up the refill today, okay?" Elina said. Her voice was light, reassuring, though her stomach twisted at the thought of the bill. She hadn't paid the last one. The pharmacy would only hold the meds one more day before returning them to stock.
Her mother brushed a trembling hand over Elina's cheek. "You're doing too much."
"There is no 'too much,'" Elina whispered. "Not for you and Liam."
Her mother's eyes softened with guilt she had no reason to carry. "You shouldn't have to bear all of this. I'm sorry."
"Don't." Elina forced a smile. "Save your strength."
Her mother nodded weakly.
A faint voice echoed from down the hall.
"Elina? We're out of bread."
Liam again.
Elina sighed internally. "Let me grab something from the café. I'll bring leftovers after my shift."
Her mother reached for her hand, squeezing it with the little strength she had. "Take care of yourself too."
"I will," Elina said, though they both knew she wouldn't.
She slipped out of the room, grabbed her worn-out sneakers, and tied her apron around her waist. The café was only a fifteen-minute walk away, ten minutes if she rushed.
Before leaving, she peeked back into her room. Liam was awake now, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.
"You going already?" he asked.
"Yeah. I left some rice from yesterday in the pot. Warm it up."
He frowned. "That's your breakfast."
"I'll eat at the café," she said quickly. "I promise. They always let staff have something."
That was a lie. They let staff buy something, at a discount. But Liam didn't need to know that.
He crossed his arms, stubborn. "Elina… you barely slept."
"And you have school," she countered. "Don't start."
His jaw clenched with a mixture of worry and teenage frustration. "One day I'm going to get a real job and help."
"You will," she said softly. "But right now, you need good grades more than I need another exhausted body in this house."
He looked away but didn't argue.
Good. She didn't have time for arguments.
She reached the door, then paused when Liam called out, "Be careful, okay?"
Elina shot him a smile. "Always."
The morning air was cool, the streets quiet as she pushed through the early dawn. The city wasn't exactly dangerous, but it wasn't perfectly safe either. Most people at this hour were workers like her, hustling for a life that seemed determined to stay out of reach.
She walked briskly, weaving through alley shortcuts she'd learned from years of necessity.
As she neared the café, the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread drifted through the air. Despite everything, it made her stomach grumble.
Later, she promised herself. You'll eat later.
The café's bell jingled as she pushed the door open.
"Morning, Elina," her coworker Maisie called from behind the counter. "You're early."
"Couldn't sleep," Elina said, slipping into the back room to grab an apron. "Anything you need me to start with?"
Maisie rolled her eyes toward the kitchen. "Yeah. The dishwasher's broken again, so we're washing by hand."
Elina groaned internally.
"Also," Maisie added, grimacing, "Mr. Beckett's in a mood."
Great.
Mr. Beckett, the café owner, was perpetually irritated, especially when something didn't go his way. Broken dishwasher? Definitely not going his way.
Elina stepped into the kitchen just as he slammed a cabinet shut.
"You," he barked at her. "Wash. We have a rush coming."
"Good morning to you too," she murmured, rolling up her sleeves.
"What was that?" he snapped.
"Nothing," Elina said quickly, turning to the sink.
She plunged her hands into the warm water, scrubbing plates, cups, and silverware with practiced efficiency. It wasn't glamorous, but it was work.
And work meant money.
A little money.
Barely enough.
But enough to keep them afloat one more day.
By the time her break came around, her hands were red and wrinkled. She slumped onto a chair in the staff area and pulled out her phone.
Three missed calls from the clinic.
Her heart dropped.
She pressed the voicemail, palms sweaty.
"Hi, this is Nurse Elena calling on behalf of your mother. We need to schedule a follow-up appointment as soon as possible. Her test results showed—"
The message cut off, directing her to call back.
Elina closed her eyes.
They always needed appointments. Always found new concerns. New tests. New warnings.
New bills.
She forced herself up, returned to the counter, and pushed through the rest of the shift.
When the rush slowed, Maisie approached with two paper bags.
"These were going to be tossed," she said softly. "Take them."
Elina blinked. "Maisie… I can't keep—"
"Just take them," Maisie insisted. "You work harder than any of us."
Elina's throat tightened. "Thank you."
"Tell Liam I said hi," Maisie added with a wink.
Elina rolled her eyes. "He's fifteen. Calm down."
Maisie laughed.
By the time Elina reached home, her arms trembled with fatigue. Liam looked up from his textbooks when she entered.
"You brought food?"
"Leftovers," she said. "Maisie insisted."
His grin softened something in her chest.
"Elina?" her mother's weak voice called.
She hurried to her side, helping her sit up, adjusting pillows.
"Did you eat today?" her mother whispered.
"Of course," Elina lied.
Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Elina…"
"I will," she promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
It was nearly midnight when Elina finally dropped onto her mattress, drained. Liam was asleep. Her mother's breathing was soft.
She stared at the ceiling, whispering into the dark:
"One day… it will get better."
But deep down, she feared the truth.
Things were about to get much, much worse.