Elina woke up before the sun again, not because she wanted to but because responsibility had a way of shaking sleep from her bones. The house was quiet; the kind of quiet that made every small sound feel loud. The kettle clicked as it boiled water, and the old ceiling fan whirred unevenly overhead, wobbling as though it might fall someday. Maybe it would. Maybe everything in this house was on the edge of collapse. But for now, it still held together, just like her.
She moved quietly, tying her hair into a messy knot while the tea steeped. Her muscles ached from yesterday's double shifts at both the diner and the store, but she ignored the dull sting. Pain had long ago become part of her routine.
She poured the tea into a chipped cup and carried it into the bedroom where her mother was lying.
"Morning, Mama," Elina whispered.
Her mother opened her eyes slowly, blinked twice, and then offered a tired smile. "You're up early."
"I didn't sleep much," Elina admitted, brushing a warm hand over her mother's forehead. "Your temperature's down."
"That's good," her mother murmured. "How's Liam? Did he come home last night?"
"Yeah," Elina said. "He was late, but I didn't ask questions. Teenagers, right?"
Her mother gave a weak laugh. "Protect him, but don't trap him."
Elina tried to smile but failed. Protecting Liam wasn't a choice, it was a requirement. At fourteen, he was growing too fast for the world they lived in, a world where poverty made boys desperate and desperation made them targets.
"I'll keep an eye on him," she promised. "Drink your tea. I'll get the morning meds."
Her mother nodded and closed her eyes again, tired from a task as simple as breathing. The sight tightened something inside Elina's chest.
She walked into the living room where Liam was sprawled across the couch, snoring softly. His backpack lay dumped on the floor beside him, its contents spilling out, half-finished homework, a broken pencil, and a worn-out pair of earbuds.
"Liam," she said, nudging his leg with her foot.
He groaned and pulled the pillow over his face. "Five minutes."
"No. School starts in one hour. Get up."
"I hate school."
"That's not new. Get up anyway."
He peeked out from beneath the pillow, his hair sticking up in all directions. "You're bossy in the morning."
"I'm bossy all day," she said. "Shower, eat, leave. Simple."
Liam rolled off the couch dramatically and stretched. "You working later?"
"Yes," she said. "Both jobs."
"So I'll take Mom to her appointment?"
"If you can. Or I'll ask Mrs. Hawkins next door."
"No, I'll do it," he said quickly. "I'm not useless."
Elina softened. "I never said you were."
"You think it," he muttered, heading to the bathroom.
She let the comment pass. He didn't mean it, not really. He was just tired. Scared. Overwhelmed. Things no boy his age should have to deal with.
She washed the dishes, wiped the counter, and packed her mother's medication into a plastic container. Every task felt rehearsed, like a dance she'd performed a thousand times. Survive. Sustain. Repeat.
By the time she rushed out the door, she was already ten minutes late.
The morning air was cold as she jogged down the cracked sidewalk toward the bus stop. The city was waking up around her, street vendors unlocking carts, tired parents dragging their kids to school, cars honking in the chaos of rush hour. The same noise, the same faces, the same monotony of everyday life. But she clung to it because routine meant she hadn't fallen apart yet.
When she arrived at the diner, her manager, Gwen, raised an eyebrow. "Late again."
"I'm sorry," Elina said, breathless. "Busy morning."
"When isn't it?" Gwen sighed, but her voice lacked bite. "Get your apron and start table seven. They've been waiting."
Elina grabbed her apron, tied it quickly, and plastered on the kind of polite smile she'd perfected over the years.
Her first customers were two middle-aged women arguing over oat milk and regular milk as if the fate of the world depended on it. She was patient. She listened. She nodded. She didn't let annoyance show. It was the skill of a survivor.
But halfway through her shift, while she was delivering plates to a table, the room spun slightly. She steadied herself against the counter. The lack of sleep was catching up with her, and the cheap tea she'd had earlier wasn't helping.
"You good?" Gwen asked, noticing the way Elina's hands trembled.
"I'm fine."
"You sure? You're pale."
"I just need a minute."
Gwen sighed. "Take five. Don't faint on me. I don't have time for that today."
Elina stepped outside the back door and leaned against the brick wall, inhaling deeply. The alley smelled faintly of stale trash and frying oil, but the air was cool and helped clear her head.
She closed her eyes and let the quiet settle.
Just one minute to breathe. That's all she wanted.
Her phone buzzed.
She pulled it out, expecting it to be Liam or the clinic.
It wasn't.
It was the bank.
Her stomach dropped.
Reminder: Your payment is overdue. Failure to settle the balance may result in account restrictions.
Her jaw clenched. She'd paid part of it last month. She'd stretched every dollar until it nearly tore apart. What more did they want? Blood?
She shoved the phone back into her pocket, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.
She couldn't break down. Not now. Not ever.
When she went back inside, Gwen didn't say anything, just handed her a tray and pointed at another table. Elina forced herself into motion.
By the end of her shift, her feet throbbed and her arms ached, but she didn't rest. She walked straight to her second job at the mini-store. The walk took fifteen minutes, and by the time she arrived, she'd mentally prepared herself for another six hours of standing, stocking, and smiling.
The store smelled like old cardboard and artificial citrus cleaner. Mr. Patel, her boss, nodded at her with a tired smile.
"Long day?" he asked.
"Always."
"You're strong," he said, almost kindly. "But don't break yourself. You only get one body."
"I'll manage."
"You always say that," he said before returning to his paperwork.
She moved through the aisles, reorganizing shelves and helping customers. The hours passed slowly, each minute dragging like heavy chains. Around ten at night, the store finally went quiet.
Mr. Patel approached her with uncertainty on his face. "Elina… about your paycheck."
Her heart stopped. "What about it?"
"I can only give half this week," he said quietly. "Business has been slow. I'm sorry."
The world around her blurred for a moment, but she kept her expression neutral. "Okay."
"You're not angry?"
"What would anger fix?" she whispered.
He didn't have an answer.
When she stepped out of the store after closing, the cold night air slapped her cheeks. Her breath rose in white clouds. She hugged herself and walked home slowly, her thoughts heavy and her body exhausted.
Her mother's medication costs…
The overdue bank payment…
Rent due in two weeks…
Liam's school supplies…
Everything, everything, crushing her at once.
The streetlights flickered as she walked beneath them. The neighborhood grew quieter, darker. She knew every crack in the pavement, every broken streetlight, every house that had been abandoned years ago.
When she reached her house, she paused at the door. She could hear Liam laughing inside at something he was watching on the tiny living-room TV. The sound warmed her, even as her heart felt too heavy to carry.
She opened the door. Liam looked up and grinned. "Hey! I saved you some noodles."
Her mother turned her head slightly from the couch. "You're home late."
"Work ran long," Elina said.
She removed her shoes, sat down slowly, and forced a smile.
But inside, her resolve cracked just a little more.
How much longer could she keep everything from falling apart?
How much longer could she hold a family together using only her hands and hope?
She didn't know.
But tomorrow she'd wake up and try again.
Because she had no other choice.