The smell of fresh coffee always fills the air in the mornings. It’s just one of the things I’ve grown used to in our small apartment—my mom’s daily ritual that somehow makes everything feel a little bit more stable. She’s always been the rock, and I've always been the one to test her patience. Between school, part-time work, and figuring out life, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be able to repay her for everything she’s sacrificed. I'm Mei, and I’ve been learning how to take on the world, one small step at a time, with her by my side.

It was just another afternoon, the kind where the sun beats down a little too hard, and the whole world seems to move in slow motion. I’d just gotten home from a long shift at the café, the faint buzz of exhaustion hanging in my bones. As I opened the door, I heard the faint crackle of a cigarette. That wasn’t unusual—except for the fact that it was coming from the balcony.

I hesitated before stepping outside. There she was, my mom, sitting on the old wicker chair she never used anymore, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. She didn’t look up as I approached, her face etched with something I hadn’t seen before—something tired, something heavier than usual.

“Mom?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, though my heart was starting to race.

She took a slow drag, exhaling the smoke in a cloud that seemed to hang in the air between us. “Just... needed a moment,” she said, her voice quiet, almost like she was trying to make the words feel smaller, less important.

I stood there, unsure of what to do. My mom had always been the one to handle everything. I’d never seen her like this—vulnerable, even in such a small way. The quiet tension in the air spoke volumes, and I suddenly realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as unbreakable as I’d always thought.