A Chance To Rise

Chapter 10, A Son's Choice.

The afternoon sun sent a warm glow through the small kitchen window as Zaid's mother unwrapped the gift he had brought her. Her fingers brushed against the soft red fabric of the scarf, her eyes lighting up with surprise and warmth.

"Oh, Zaid," she murmured, draping it around her shoulders. "It's beautiful. But where did you get the money for this?"

Zaid shifted slightly, avoiding her gaze. "I Just... saved up from my allowance," he lied.

His mother sighed, shaking her head. "You didn't have to get me anything, habibi. I want you to use that money for yourself. Don't worry about me."

"But I want to," Zaid insisted, his voice firm. "You do everything for me. This is nothing compared to that."

His mother smiled, cupping his face in her hands. "Just seeing you happy is enough for me."

She then turned back to the stove, where the rich, spiced aroma of Maqloba filled the air, layers of rice, tender chicken, and golden fried eggplant and vegetables, all cooked to perfection. Zaid's favorite.

"Sit, sit," she urged, waving him toward the small dining table. "Let's eat before it gets cold."

They shared the meal in comfortable silence, the TV playing softly in the background. For a moment, everything felt normal and warm, safe. Zaid even caught his mother laughing at a silly joke from the show, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Then, without warning, her laughter cut off.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Her hand flew to her chest, fingers clutching at her shirt as her face twisted in pain.

"Mom?" Zaid's voice was barely a whisper at first. Then, louder, panicked "Mom?!"

She tried to wave him off, but the pain was too much. Her breathing turned shallow, her skin pale.

Zaid's hands shook as he fumbled for his phone, dialing the emergency number with trembling fingers.

"Ambulance, please hurry!" he begged, his voice cracking. "My mom! she can't breathe!"

As he waited, his mother slumped slightly in her chair, her eyes fluttering. Zaid gripped her hand, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.

"Stay with me," he whispered, his throat tight. "Please, just stay with me."

The ambulance ride to the hospital passed in a haze of flashing lights and urgent voices. Zaid sat motionless in the back, clinging to his mother's limp hand as paramedics worked around them. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nose, mixing with the metallic scent of medical equipment.

At the hospital, doctors whisked his mother away through swinging doors. Zaid collapsed into a plastic chair in the waiting room, The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly as hours crawled by.

Finally, a doctor in blue scrubs approached. "Your mother suffered a stress-induced heart attack," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Years of exhaustion have taken their toll. She'll need to stay with us for at least two weeks for proper monitoring and recovery."

Zaid's throat tightened. "But she'll... she'll be okay?"

"With proper rest and treatment, yes," the doctor nodded. "But she can't keep pushing herself like this."

When Zaid was allowed into her room, his mother looked frighteningly small in the hospital bed. Her skin had lost its usual warmth, blending with the pale sheets. Her eyes opened briefly when he entered, but no words came - just a weak flutter of lashes before they closed again.

"Rest, Mom," Zaid whispered, carefully tucking the thin blanket around her. "Just rest."

Alone in the quiet room, the reality crashed over him. The machines beeped steadily, but all Zaid heard was the deafening silence of having no one to call. No family. No one who could share this weight.

Then his phone vibrated. The screen lit up with a message:

NEW TASK:

- Surveil Ayman. Uncover his secret.

- Reward: Full payment of all hospital expenses.

Zaid's fingers trembled. Ayman, the smug, privileged bully. He didn't care about Ayman. But the thought of spying on someone again for the system made his stomach churn.

But the alternative was his mother being denied care.

He looked at her sleeping face, the shallow rise and fall of her chest. The decision tore at him, but there was really no choice.

His reply was simple: "Accepted."

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the hospital room, each mechanical pulse a reminder of how fragile his mother had become. Zaid sat beside her bed, watching the shallow rise and fall of her chest. The doctors had been clear, her heart attack wasn’t just bad luck. Years of stress, sleepless nights working multiple jobs, skipped meals to make sure Zaid never went without it had all taken its toll.

"Her heart is weakened," the cardiologist had explained, pointing to the scan. "The muscle is strained. If she doesn’t rest properly, this could happen again and next time, it might be worse."

The words echoed in Zaid’s mind.

His mother had always been his rock. She had shielded him from their struggles, smiling through exhaustion, insisting she was fine even when she wasn’t. Now, lying in that hospital bed, she looked so small. So breakable.

And then there was the bill.

The nurse had handed him the paperwork discreetly, her voice sympathetic. "The deposit alone is probably more than your mother makes in a month."

Zaid’s stomach twisted. They had no savings. No insurance. No one to turn to.

Spying on someone, invading their privacy, it went against everything he believed. Worse, it made him no better than the bullies he despised.

But then he looked back at his mother.

At the IV drip feeding into her arm. At the oxygen tube under her nose. On the way her fingers twitched in sleep, as if even unconscious, she was still fighting.

"What choice do I have?" He asked himself.

If he refused, his mother might not get the care she needed. If he accepted, he’d be betraying himself. E

ventually he decided that he won't change his mind, his mother was his prioritiy now.