I got a call from my mom, asking me to pick up my brother from school. Her voice was tired. I drove there, found him waiting outside and brought him home.
As soon as we went inside she said, “I need to lie down for a bit. Just watch your brother for a while.”
She looked pale. Not sick-sick, but that kind of drained look people get when life’s been leaning too heavy on them.
I nodded and said, “Of course,” even though I had plans to meet my friends later.
My little brother, Arman, was only 9. Bright kid. Too observant sometimes.
He sat on the couch flipping through some superhero comic. I made us both a sandwich and we ended up watching old cartoons like we used to.
A couple of hours passed. Mom hadn’t come out of her room.
I knocked gently, then cracked the door open. She was asleep. Or at least, I thought so.
Her breathing was soft, almost too soft. I stood there watching her for a minute, something uneasy curling in my stomach.
That night, she didn’t eat dinner. Said she had a headache.
Arman and I ate together, just the two of us. I cleaned up, tucked him into bed, then sat in my own room scrolling through my phone, the uneasiness still there.
The next morning, she was still in bed when I got up. That was rare.
She was always the first one awake, making tea, ironing uniforms, opening windows. I knocked again. This time she answered, but her voice was faint.“I’m just… really tired,” she whispered.
“Call in for me, okay? Tell them I won’t make it today.”
Mom never missed work unless she absolutely had to. She worked at a grocery store down the street, mostly stocking shelves and handling customers at the cash register.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and kept food in the fridge.
I called her boss. He didn’t sound surprised. “She’s been pushing herself too hard,” he said.
“Tell her to rest. I’ll cover her shift.”
For the next three days, she barely left her room.
I made sure Arman got to school, packed his lunch, even ironed his clothes one morning. He asked, “Is Mom sick?”
“Just tired,” I told him.
“She’ll be okay.”
But even I wasn’t sure.
On the fourth day, she finally got up, sat at the table with us, and drank some tea. She looked at me and said, “I think it’s time I told you a few things.”
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