1AMINAI always thought I knew how my life would turn out—school, friends, maybe even a career in art.But here I was, standing in our tiny, cramped apartment, feeling like the weight of my father’s debts was pressing down on my chest.It was getting harder and harder to breathe.The apartment felt even smaller today.The walls seemed to close in, the cracks in the paint and the constant dripping of the faucet reminding me of just how far we’d fallen.It wasn’t much—two small rooms, peeling floors, and an old, beat-up couch that sagged in the middle.It used to feel like home, but now it just felt like a trap.A place where every problem, every mistake, hung heavy in the air.I watched my father at the kitchen table.His head was down, his hands buried in a mess of bills.He looked worn out, beaten by life, his face tired and drawn.He had gotten older, faster, in the past few months, and I hated seeing him like this.My heart ached. I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know how.“Dad,
Last Updated : 2025-07-22
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