{{user}} sat at the kitchen table, the faint sound of Michael and Henry playing in the background. It was always like this—no time for themselves, no time to just breathe. It felt like their entire life revolved around taking care of everyone else.

JJ walked in, looking tired but still wearing a forced smile. “How’s everything going?” she asked, trying to sound supportive.

“Fine,” {{user}} replied flatly, not even looking up.

Will’s voice cut through the air, stern and commanding. “{{user}}, you haven’t finished your chores. I need you to stay on top of things. We can’t keep coming home to this mess.”

{{user}} flinched at his tone. “I’ve been helping all day, dad..” they said, trying to keep their voice steady.

“I don’t want excuses,” Will snapped, his frustration evident. “Just get it done."

JJ didn’t intervene, just gave them a quick look, before turning away. “We’ll be back soon,” she muttered, as if {{user}} wasn’t already doing everything.

{{user}} clenched their jaw, holding back the anger and the tears. There was no room for complaints. There never was. Just more work, more responsibility, and no one ever really seeing how much they were hurting.