Many days and months passed after graduation, and little by little, life began to shift.
Lisa and I eventually lost touch. I assumed she had gone on to college just like she'd always dreamed. I missed her presence, but I knew she was chasing her goals.
Mike, on the other hand, completely disappeared. No letters. No messages. No visits. Just silence. His absence became a dull ache I learned to carry quietly.
I didn't go straight to college. Instead, I took a year off to help Mama. While she continued taking laundry jobs, I handled the ironing.
We worked side by side every day, our hands rough from labor, our hearts quietly focused on a better future.
After months of saving, we finally scraped together enough for my first semester.
I enrolled in a Computer Science course, not because it was my dream, but because it was practical. Mama paid the full tuition with pride in her eyes.
It had always been her wish to see me in an office, even if I started as just a secretary.
That was fine with me. I kept my head down, studied hard, and stayed focused.
Even when some boys tried to get close offering sweet words, subtle gestures I never let myself get distracted.
My heart wasn't ready, and deep down, it still held space for someone who once promised to come back.
Mom pushed herself even harder, working long hours, picking up more clients, never complaining.
She did everything she could so I could stay in school and finish what we had started together.
I completed three full years of college. Each semester felt like a mountain we climbed hand in hand her with soap-stung fingers and me with sleepless nights.
She barely had any rest. Week after week, she scrubbed, soaked, and hung clothes under the sun.
All for her dream… a dream she planted in me a better future.
Now, I'm in my fourth and final year of college. And every time I walk into that campus, I carry her dream with me. Not just as a goal but as a promise.
The heat of the mid-morning sun streamed through our small window, casting golden light on the damp clothes hanging nearby.
The scent of soap clung to the air, mixed with the sharp tang of sweat and sacrifice.
"Just one more semester, dear," she said, her hands moving rhythmically over the wet fabric, fingers cracked from years of detergent and cold water. "Then my dream of seeing you finish a course that will give you a good job will finally come true. I can finally rest during those hours… My job will be done."
I paused, my pen frozen mid-sentence. Her words, so casually spoken, hit deeper than she knew.
I looked at her, really looked. Her thin frame moved with a practiced grace, but her body told a story of endless toil calloused hands, a tired slouch, hair that had long since given up trying to stay neat.
She had poured her life into me, wrung herself dry just so I could sit here with a notebook and a dream.
"My mind and soul will finally be at peace," she said softly.
Her words caught me off guard. I turned to look at her, my eyes searching her tired but gentle face.
Despite the fatigue lining her features, she smiled at me.
"Mom…" I said quietly, my heart tightening, "you can rest soon. You won't need to wear yourself out doing laundry anymore. You've done enough for me, for everything."
She smiled softly, her hands still moving rhythmically through the suds, like she drew strength from every piece she washed each one a piece of our journey.
Just as I was about to say more, a harsh, deep cough tore from her chest. It was really painful. Her body bent slightly as she struggled to breathe.
"Mom?" I rushed to her side, alarmed. "Are you okay?"
She tried to wave it off, gasping between coughs. "Uhoo… uhoo… Don't worry, Queen… I'm okay."
But I wasn't convinced. I rubbed her back gently, feeling how frail she'd become. "Please, Ma… let me finish it. You need to lie down."
She shook her head slowly, stubborn even in weakness. "No, my dear… I'll finish this. Just one last batch."
No matter how I pleaded, she wouldn't let go of that basin. Maybe she felt like stopping would be giving up… or maybe, finishing the laundry was her way of holding on just a bit longer.
Every time I tried to grab a piece of clothing, she'd snatch it right back with tired but determined hands.
It was as if the laundry wasn't just a task — it was her promise, her pride, her sacrifice. Her way of saying, *"I'm still strong, I can still give."*
I... I was really worried about her. She kept coughing, and it was getting worse. The sound of it scraped at my nerves like broken glass.
"Ma, stop it!" I shouted, my voice shaking with fear. I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Please, get some rest! What if something bad happens to you? I won't be able to forgive myself!"
My chest tightened. I could barely breathe as the words came out. "If it's just about money, I'll stop studying.........."
"No!" Mama cut me off, her voice cracking. "Don't do that, Queen. No matter what happens, you *have* to finish your studies."
Tears welled up in her eyes. I couldn't hold mine back either. I pulled her into a hug as my throat tightened, her frail body warm but shaking slightly in my arms.
"Ma," I whispered, "let's not force something we can't afford."
Mama shook her head slowly, firmly. "There's only one semester left, Queen… If you really love me, if you really worry about me, then promise me… you'll finish what we've started."
"Try your best to graduate. Don't waste my… suffering, Queen," Mama said softly, her voice trembling.
"But where will we get the money for the next semester?" I asked, worried.
"That's paid for, Queen," she answered with a faint smile.
But I couldn't ignore the fear in my chest. "If you get worse, if you even get hurt, I swear I'll stop everything. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, Ma…"
She didn't answer this time. Her eyes were tired. Her body, weaker.
I rushed to help her up and gently guided her to the sofa. She didn't resist. She just leaned back, her frame small and fragile against the cushions.
And still, she kept coughing… kept coughing…