My husband lingered in the hallway for a moment before retreating to the bedroom. I hadn’t been asleep long when I felt someone shaking me awake. Groggily, I opened my eyes to find Max standing over me, already dressed in his school uniform, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m going to be late! And where’s breakfast? You didn’t make anything?” Every morning, without fail, I’d sacrifice my own rest to wake him up on time and prepare a full, warm breakfast. The price of this routine was dark circles under my eyes and skin that had lost its luster. At forty, I looked closer to fifty. But not today. “You can set your own alarm from now on. As for breakfast, grab something on the way. Got money? I’ll send you some if you don’t.” Max stared at me, stunned, as if he couldn’t believe this was coming from me—the mom who used to do everything for him without complaint. “I don’t need your money,” he muttered, his voice heavy with disdain. Then, under his breath, he added, “Rachel would never be this lazy…” Though he mumbled it quietly, I heard every word. But strangely, it didn’t hurt. Max stormed out, slamming the door so hard the shoe rack rattled, and a small object tumbled to the floor. Curious, I walked over and picked it up. It was a toy car—one I’d modified years ago. With the push of a button, it could transform into a robot and even play theme songs from cartoons. When Max was little, he was often sick. Those days, he rarely smiled—until I showed him this car. The way his face lit up, the pure joy in his laughter, had inspired me to submit a proposal at work: a line of toys designed to bring emotional comfort to children. But Tom, my husband, had dismissed the idea outright. He argued that robots should be practical, useful tools—not frivolous “toys” that just transformed and played music. In the end, the proposal was shelved, and Max grew up, leaving behind the little car he once adored. I stared at the toy for a long moment before pressing its button. It still worked. An idea struck me, so I grabbed the car and went to find my neighbor’s child, Danny. Danny was just five, a lonely boy whose parents had divorced and left him in the care of his grandmother. He spent most of his days playing alone in the dirt outside our building. When I handed him the toy, his eyes lit up, and he clutched it tightly, turning it over and over in his small hands. “Wow!” he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face as he began playing with it. Seeing his joy, I couldn’t help but think of Max as a little boy—and of the proposal I’d given up on all those years ago. Before I realized it, I had my phone in hand and was dialing my old manager’s number. Halfway through the call, I panicked and almost hung up, but it was too late. “Lauren? Wow, it’s been forever! What’s up?” “Oh, um…” I hesitated, nervously rubbing my nose. “I was just wondering… Are you hiring?” It felt absurd. After nearly a decade as a stay-at-home mom, I was trying to reenter a high-tech industry that had undoubtedly moved on without me. But to my surprise, my former manager sounded thrilled. “Are you serious? We’d love to have you back! Honestly, someone with your skills is exactly what my new company needs. That said… you’ve been out of the game for a while. You’d have to start from the ground up.” “I don’t mind!” I said quickly. “I’ll prove myself.” After hanging up, I was so excited I nearly jumped for joy. I ended up spending the rest of the day playing with Danny and his new toy. “You’re the best, Miss Lauren,” Danny said, looking up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “I wish you were my mom.” I froze, unsure how to respond. All I could do was gently pat his head. Chaos Unfolds Just then, I heard the front door slam open. A man staggered in, reeking of alcohol, his face twisted with anger. “Who the hell are you? Where’s my mom?” he demanded, his voice slurred. Before I could respond, Danny’s grandmother hurried out of the kitchen, panic etched on her face. “What are you doing here?” she shouted, her voice trembling. “I’m not giving you another penny!” “You’re my mother! Your money is my money!” he snapped. “And if you don’t hand it over, I swear I’ll—” His eyes darted to Danny. “I’ll take that little brat with me. Maybe sell him off somewhere!” He pulled out a knife, waving it wildly as he stumbled toward Danny. Time seemed to slow as I threw myself between them, shielding Danny with my body. The blade sliced into me, and pain exploded in my side. Warm blood seeped through my clothes, pooling on the floor beneath me. Danny’s terrified cries echoed in my ears as everything around me faded to black.