Sarah's POV
My hands were still shaking when I stepped into the tiny break room. Mrs. Annie had yelled at me three times already, and it was not even lunch yet. I dropped into the chair, exhausted, and pressed my palms to my face. My body ached. My feet burned. I felt like I had carried the whole world on my back since sunrise.
The smell of warm bread drifted in from the bakery floor, but it did not comfort me today. I wished I could close my eyes for even one minute, but the buzzing noise of the fridge and Annie's sharp voice in the distance reminded me that rest was not something I got often.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
I jumped, nearly knocking it off the table. When I picked it up and saw my mother's name on the screen, my heart squeezed painfully.
Mom.
My thumb hovered over the answer button. A fear I knew too well crawled up my throat. If Mom was calling in the middle of the day, it was never good news.
I answered quickly. "Hello, Mom?"
Her soft voice came through the speaker, but it sounded weak, like she was struggling to breathe.
"Sweetheart."
Just that one word made my chest tighten. She only used that tone when she felt sick or lonely.
"Mom, are you okay?" I sat up straighter, my pulse racing. "Is something wrong?"
She took a slow breath. I could almost hear the crackle in her lungs. "I just wanted to hear your voice."
The fear inside me grew. When she said things like that, it meant she felt worse than usual.
I pressed my fingers into my knee, trying to keep myself steady. "How bad is it today?"
Another breath. "I am fine, Sarah. Just tired."
She was lying. I knew she was lying. She always lied when she did not want me to worry.
There was a soft cough. Not loud. Not dramatic. But thin. Weak. The kind of cough that made my whole body fill with dread.
I held my breath, waiting to hear her speak again.
Then her voice came, quiet and fragile. "Are you coming home for Christmas, sweetheart?"
The question hit me like cold water. Home. Christmas. The place I had not visited in months because I worked too much. Because rent was too high. Because I was scared to see how sick she had become.
My throat tightened. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to pack my bags and run to her. But the truth was harder. I barely had enough money for rent. I barely had money for food. A Christmas trip was impossible.
I closed my eyes, trying not to cry. "Mom…"
She waited. Quiet. Hopeful. My heart cracked.
I could not say no. I could not tell her that I could not afford it. I could not make her feel abandoned. Not when she was sick. Not when she needed something to look forward to.
So I did the worst thing I could do.
I lied.
"Yes, Mom," I said, forcing the words out. "I am coming home for Christmas."
The moment the lie left my mouth, my stomach twisted painfully. I knew I was making a promise I could not afford. But the way her voice lifted made my heart ache.
"Oh, sweetheart." She let out a tiny laugh. "You just made me so happy."
Her joy felt like a knife.
"I miss you," she whispered.
"I miss you too," I said softly. My voice broke a little. I hoped she did not hear it.
There was a pause, then Mom said something that froze my entire body.
"And… you said last time that you were seeing someone." Her tone was innocent, warm, full of excitement she had not felt in years. "Will you bring him home for Christmas?"
My mouth dropped open.
Seeing someone.
Bring him home.
She was waiting for an answer.
My heart pounded so loudly I thought she could hear it.
I was not seeing anyone.
No one.
Not even close.
I opened my mouth to explain, to tell her the truth, but her small, hopeful voice cut through me like a blade.
"Oh, Sarah… I would love to meet the man who makes my daughter smile again."
Tears filled my eyes.
There was no man.
No smile.
No one.
But hearing hope in her voice, real hope, something she had not had in so long, made me freeze. If I shattered that hope now, I did not know how she would handle it.
So I did it again.
I lied a second time.
"Yes, Mom," I whispered. "I am bringing someone special."
Silence.
Then a soft gasp. "Really?"
I felt my heart fall into a deep, dark hole. "Yes."
"Oh, sweetheart," Mom's voice brightened with a happiness so pure it hurt. "This will be the best Christmas."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I will be there."
"I love you," she said.
"I love you too," I whispered.
When the call ended, I sat frozen in the chair. The break room felt colder, smaller, like the walls were pressing against me.
I could barely breathe.
I had just promised my sick mother two impossible things:
I would come home for Christmas.
And I would bring a fiancé.
A fiancé I did not have.
A fiancé I never had.
A fiancé that did not exist.
I pressed both hands to my face. My pulse pounded in my ears. Tears spilled before I could stop them.
"Why did I say that," I whispered. "What have I done?"
The weight of my lie hit me full force. Mom was expecting a man. She was imagining a future. She was building dreams out of the little hope I had given her.
I curled forward, trying not to sob.
"What am I going to do," I whispered into my hands. "How do I find someone? How do I take someone home? How do I fix this?"
My chest hurt. My head throbbed. I felt like the floor was disappearing under me.
All I wanted was to make my mother smile. But now I had trapped myself in a lie I had no way out of.
I stood slowly, wiping my tears with my sleeve. My whole body felt weak. I needed air. I needed space. I needed a miracle.
I walked out of the break room and into the alley behind the bakery. The cold hit my skin like a slap. But I needed it. I needed something to wake me from the nightmare I had created.
I leaned against the wall, breathing fast.
And then the terrifying truth hit me so hard it made my knees shake.
I had six days before Christmas.
I had no boyfriend.
And I had just promised to bring home a fiancé.
A fiancé I did not have.
My hand flew to my mouth.
"Oh no," I whispered as my heart dropped.
"What have I done?"