He had seen her hands tremble when she lifted a glass of water. He had heard her coughing through the night. And he had noticed that she often pushed her own plate toward him, pretending she had already eaten.
Three months earlier, she had lost her cleaning job at a nearby hotel. Her illness made it impossible to work the long shifts she once managed.
The bills had continued arriving.
The refrigerator had slowly emptied.
And whatever money they had saved had disappeared into rent, electricity, and medical expenses.
Adam had tried to help.
He delivered newspapers before school whenever someone needed an extra pair of hands. He carried groceries for elderly neighbors. Sometimes he collected discarded bottles to exchange for a few coins.
But no matter how hard he worked, it was never enough.
That morning, his mother had been too weak to get out of bed.
“Adam,” she whispered, “don’t worry about me. Go to school.”
