It was well past midnight when Mabel finally stepped through the threshold of her home, the quiet stillness welcoming her as she closed the door softly behind her. The house was shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of a nightlight in the hallway. She tiptoed quietly, acutely aware of the fragile peace that enveloped the sleeping household.

As she approached her son James's room, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. She could see the outline of his small frame nestled under a cosy blanket. Mabel paused at the entrance, her heart swelling with both love and sorrow as she observed her son soundly asleep, his cherubic face illuminated by the gentle light.

Compelled by an invisible force, she stepped further into the room, kneeling beside his bed. She leaned in close, her voice a soft murmur as she whispered to him, "Today, I saw your father. He looked so handsome, as always, wearing that charming smile of his, and he seemed so content with his life. It was as if you didn't even exist to him."

Mabel felt a tightening in her chest as she continued, "But you don't need to worry about that. We have thrived without him, sweetheart, and we will continue to do just fine without him. I sometimes wish you would ask so little of him... or perhaps, that you would stop growing so much, so that you wouldn't look more like him."

With a tender gaze, she brushed her fingers softly against his cheek, the warmth of his skin filling her with a deep sense of affection. Leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss on his temple, inhaling the sweet, familiar smell of him. "I love you, kiddo. Sleep soundly," she whispered, her heart aching yet full.

Standing up carefully, Mabel took a final lingering glance at her sleeping son before she turned to leave the room. She navigated her way back through the house, her footsteps light as a feather, doing her utmost to maintain the tranquillity that hung in the air, determined not to disturb anyone from their peaceful slumber. As she made her way to her own room, she felt a mix of emotions swirling within her-love, sadness, and a fierce resolve to protect the life she had built for herself and James.

In the soft glow of dawn, Mabel sat at her desk, nestled in the far corner of her modest room. Bills, grocery lists, and a worn notepad lay scattered before her, remnants of her efforts to manage the household budget. The air was thick with a mixture of coffee and determination as she diligently organized the essentials for herself and her growing family. Since the birth of her son, her parents had graciously opened their home to her, providing a sanctuary filled with love and support. They had pledged to assist her in raising her child, and they had lived up to that commitment without hesitation.

Now, having secured a job at a renowned restaurant with a respectable paycheck, Mabel was eager to contribute to the family finances. She felt a renewed sense of responsibility weighing on her shoulders, especially as her younger sister had just embarked on her university journey. With their parents now comfortably retired, the financial burden of pursuing her sister's education-and her own child's upbringing-rested heavily on Mabel's brow. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she grappled with the significance of her new role within the family.

Just then, a gentle knock interrupted her thoughts, followed by the familiar creak of the door. Mabel looked up to find her younger sister, Sylvia, framed in the doorway, a concerned expression etched across her face. Sylvia had a habit of checking in on her every morning, though Mabel often wondered what compelled her sister's unwavering vigilance.

"Hey," Sylvia greeted softly, her voice tinged with warmth as she glided across the room. "What time did you get back last night? I didn't hear you come in. Please don't tell me you spent the night out with your friends again. Remember, you have a child waiting for you at home."

Mabel sighed, bracing herself for the oncoming lecture on the virtues of parenting. She recognized her sister's concern as a reflection of her deep care, even as her chest tightened in anticipation. "If you must know, I was at work-not out for a night on the town. We were swamped with customers yesterday, and just as we were about to close, guess who walked in for dinner? James' father," she murmured, lowering her voice as if attempting to shield her son from the truth.

"Shit!" Sylvia exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. "That must have been tough for you! Did he see you?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Mabel replied, the memory swirling uncomfortably in her mind. "He and his wife were both there. They stopped to compliment me on a dish I prepared as if our past had no bearing on the present."

Sylvia's brow furrowed with disapproval. "Doesn't he know he has a son with you? A son he's never contributed a dime to raise?"

"He does know," Mabel said, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. "But there's no way he would mention him with his wife present."

"What a fool," Sylvia scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "That's why I refuse to give my heart to any man. I'm determined to succeed on my own, and whether our parents like it or not, that's my choice, and they will just have to accept it."

Mabel couldn't suppress a chuckle at her sister's bold declaration. In many ways, it reminded her of their mutual friend, Shelley, who also had taken a dim view of relationships with men. Given how fiercely Mabel had fought to care for her son alone, she could understand Sylvia's growing disdain for the male gender. It was a sentiment that, if left unchecked, could easily fuel the belief that a world without men would be a much happier place for both sisters. Mabel smiled at Sylvia, who resembled a fiery warrior in her convictions. "Please, for the love of all things holy, don't let our parents hear you say that. You'll send them to their graves far too early," she declared, both sisters erupting into laughter at the thought.

After a moment, Sylvia stood up from Mabel's bed, brushing invisible dust off her jeans. "Anyway, I have to get going. I'll be late for my classes. I'm really sorry to hear work has been rough lately, but don't dwell on it too much. You're doing great for yourself and your son, and I couldn't be more proud of you."

"Thanks," Mabel replied, feeling a bit of the heavy pressure lift from her chest with her sister's affirmation. "Honestly, I just wish I'd never crossed paths with him again."

Sylvia nodded in understanding, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "If you ever do run into him again, just send him my way. I'll make sure he never dares to do so again." The two sisters shared a conspiratorial smile, a bond strengthened by shared experiences and fierce loyalty.

***

It was a warm afternoon, the clock struck 3:30, and Mabel was bustling around the kitchen, preparing a hearty dinner for her family. With both her parents out visiting relatives, the house felt unusually quiet, except for the soft rustle of paper as her son, James, diligently tackled his homework at the dining table. Mabel immersed herself in chopping fresh vegetables, the fragrant aroma of garlic and herbs mingling in the air when a sudden sense of unease tugged at her.

In her concentration, she hadn't realized that James had become distracted, his attention shifting to one of Sylvia's enticing perfumes, a source of conflict between Mabel and her sister. Mabel had always argued against having such things in the house, fully aware of James's sensitivity and his struggles with asthma.

As she stirred the bubbling stew, a creeping silence broke through the kitchen-James's familiar voice reciting the multiplication tables had faded away. She turned momentarily to glance at him, only to feel a cold rush of fear sweep over her; he was visibly distressed, struggling to catch his breath. Panic surged through her veins as she instantly recognized the signs of an impending asthma attack.

Without wasting a second, Mabel shut off the stove, the intoxicating scent of dinner now tainted by urgency. She dashed to James's room, her heart racing, only to find the inhaler empty. Desperation clawed at her as she sprinted back downstairs, grabbing her car keys and scooping James into her arms.

They burst out of the house, the world outside a blur as she navigated through the bustling streets, the sounds of late afternoon traffic echoing around them. In her haste, she had left her purse on the kitchen counter, but that thought was far from her mind. Every beat of her heart echoed a singular focus: she had to reach the nearest pharmacy to find a Ventolin inhaler for her son. The weight of her worries hung heavy in the air as they raced against time.

_

A/N: If you were Mabel and your son was struggling to breathe, what would you have done? Given that she was aware of her son's condition, why did she allow his inhaler to run out? Shouldn't she have had a spare one on hand?