My daughter,
I’m sorry. Today I couldn’t afford anything more.
I skipped my own meal so you could have this bread.
It’s all we have until Friday.
Please eat slowly so it lasts longer.Study hard. You are everything I’m proud of.
I love you more than anything.
—Mom
I couldn’t finish the last line.
The laughter around me died instantly.
Emily covered her face, crying quietly, like she wanted to vanish.
I looked down at the bread on the ground.
That wasn’t just food.
That was her mother’s sacrifice.
And suddenly, I thought about my own lunch—sitting untouched nearby in a leather case. Inside were expensive sandwiches, imported drinks, desserts I barely noticed. Prepared by someone my mother paid, not by someone who loved me.
My mother hadn’t asked me about my day in weeks.
My stomach was always full.
But something inside me felt empty.
I knelt down, slowly. Carefully, like it mattered, I picked up the bread and brushed it clean. I placed it back into Emily’s hands, along with the note.
