The Pierce family home was warm, despite the chilly breeze outside. The smell of dinner—comforting and familiar—drifted through the air, settling over the worn kitchen table. Anna Pierce hummed softly as she stirred a pot on the stove. At the head of the table, Robert Pierce sat with his hands folded, quietly surveying the room.
Nash sat nearby, absentmindedly pushing food around on his plate. The soft kitchen light caught in his tousled black hair, which spilled casually over the thin frames of his glasses. His deep, almost melancholic eyes hinted at thoughts he rarely voiced. Though he appeared relaxed, a quiet tension sat heavy in his shoulders.
His gaze drifted to his father's hands—once strong, now marked by time, the veins prominent beneath thinning skin.
Robert Pierce had spent his life as a primary school teacher—a steady job, but not one that offered luxury or financial ease. With only a few years left until retirement, he had started talking more about the future. And with those conversations came a weight Nash wasn't sure he was ready to carry.
But it wasn't just about responsibility. Nash didn't want to just take on the burden—he wanted to lift it completely. He didn't want his parents to worry about bills or stretch their savings to get by. They had worked so hard for so long, making sacrifices so he could have the opportunities they never did. Now, he wanted to repay that kindness. Not just equally—tenfold.
And yet, he wasn't ready. Not even close.
He was still a second-year university student, drowning in assignments, projects, and constant pressure. But reality didn't care. His parents had always given him everything they could: love, support, stability. And now, with retirement looming, the truth was unspoken but clear—he would have to step up soon.
His eyes fell again to his father's worn hands. Years spent grading papers, planning lessons, shaping young minds—all without complaint. Robert never asked for more than the quiet satisfaction of helping others. But Nash knew the toll it had taken. The long nights. The weekends lost to lesson plans. The fatigue that lingered behind his father's kind smile.
Soon, that dependable income would be gone. And his parents—his gentle, selfless parents—would begin relying on him.
Nash didn't resent them. How could he? Every good thing in his life had their fingerprints on it. Their sacrifices paved his path to a top university, to a future they had once only dreamed of for themselves.
But the pressure... it was suffocating.
He clenched his fork slightly.
He didn't just want to give them stability—he wanted to give them a life they'd never had. A life free of financial strain. No more hospital bills or home repairs they couldn't afford. He wanted them to wake up without stress, to take vacations, to live.
Yet here he was, stuck in the middle of dinner, staring at a half-eaten plate, while his mind raced through fears he couldn't share aloud. He didn't even know what his own future looked like—how could he possibly secure theirs?
Still, the clock was ticking. His father's retirement wasn't far off, and with every passing day, the weight of expectation grew heavier.
Across the table, Robert looked at him. There was no need for words. The understanding passed silently between them.
His parents had always been there for him.
Now, it was his turn.
The room fell into a soft, familiar silence, but Nash's thoughts spiraled elsewhere—into the unknown, the pressure, the fear. He knew there was no shortcut. No easy answer.
It was all on him now.
And for the first time, Nash felt a deep, unsettling fear of the future—what it might demand of him, what it might take.
But one thing was certain.
He couldn't fail them.