She sat on the edge of the bed, her voice a gentle murmur that drifted through the quiet room like a warm breeze. Though her two little ones had already slipped into sleep, eyes closed and breaths soft as whispers.

She could see the faintest smile curling on her daughter’s lips, as though even in sleep, the little girl could hear the magical tale being spun just for her. Her son’s hand lay curled around a small stuffed animal, his cheek pressed against his pillow, peaceful and safe, nestled in a world of dreams.

She lowered her voice to a hush, letting the story fade like the last note of a lullaby, a delicate promise left floating in the still air. She pressed a soft kiss to each of their foreheads, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, before rising quietly, her presence drifting away like a breeze.

When she went into the living room, she moved from the sparkling life of the children to real life.

Her husband sat alone in the dim light of the living room. He slumped forward on the old, worn-out couch, elbows resting heavily on his knees, hands clasped tightly together as though he might find some answer hidden in the stillness around him. His face was lined with worry, a quiet heaviness etched into his features, aging him beyond his years.

Bills lay spread across the coffee table before him, a stack of paper filled with numbers that seemed to grow heavier each time he looked at them. The numbers blurred together, mocking him with their cold finality, a mountain he couldn’t seem to climb. He ran a hand over his tired face, feeling the roughness of his skin, as if the weight of his worries had seeped into every inch of him.

He felt that she was watching him.

"It's.. not happening..." He took a deep breath. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "This month... We didn't have enough money. We can't pay the water bill and... We just have $150 left for groceries." He spoke as if he was dying.