Esther’s POV
The night air was heavy, thick with the lingering stench of rain-soaked streets and the oily remnants of the tavern I had left behind. My hands still smelled faintly of alcohol and sweat, despite the way I had scrubbed them raw at the sink. I had quit—I had finally quit—but relief did not follow. Instead, an emptiness settled over me, heavier than any burden I had carried in years.
Failure. That was the word pounding against my temples. Failure as a mother, failure as a provider, failure as a human being trying to survive in a city that had grown cruel and unforgiving while I had slept for six years. What kind of mother was I, if I could not hold a single job, if I could not earn a few coins to keep food in my children’s bellies, medicine in Carl’s cabinet, and a roof over o
