Maya had promised herself she would not cry in front of Aarav again.
He had enough to carry — homework, growing too fast in a world that seemed determined to grind softness out of him, a mother who was more absence than presence. She didn't need to add her tears to his burdens.
So when she tucked him into bed that night, smoothing the blanket over his small frame, she smiled. She told him she would bring home cake for his birthday, no matter what. She told him she would sit with him all day, just the two of them.
He nodded sleepily, trusting her the way children do — blindly, completely.
It was that trust that broke her.
Because Maya already knew the diner had asked her to work a double shift that day. She couldn't say no. Rent didn't care about birthdays. Groceries didn't either.
She kissed her son's forehead and lingered by his bedside long after his breathing evened into sleep. Only then did she let herself cry, soundless tears sliding into her hands.
When she finally stumbled to her own bed, exhaustion pulled her under instantly.
The world she woke into was drenched in candlelight.
The throne beneath her was vast, carved of obsidian veined with gold. Courtiers lined the chamber, their silks rustling as they bowed low. At her feet knelt a boy — not Aarav, but so like him she had to grip the armrest to stop herself from reaching for him.
"Your Majesty," the boy said, voice steady despite his youth. "The council awaits your word."
Her crown gleamed on her brow. The weight of it was real, pressing, undeniable.
Maya's heart hammered. She should have screamed, demanded to know why she was here again. But the courtiers' eyes were so full of faith, so certain she belonged, that the words caught in her throat.
Instead, she heard her own voice — regal, commanding, nothing like the waitress who collected tips in a cracked plastic jar."Let them enter."
And they did.
The councilors filed in: robed men and women with rings on every finger, voices low with urgency.
"Sire forces press the border," one said."The treasury is strained," said another."Loyalty wavers in the provinces," said a third.
Each turned to her. Waiting. Expectant.
Maya wanted to laugh. In her world, she couldn't even balance her paycheck against the electric bill. Here, they wanted her to balance kingdoms.
But when she opened her mouth, the words flowed with a terrifying ease:"Raise tariffs on the northern trade. Divert coin to the border guard. Send emissaries to the wavering lords, not soldiers — yet. Show strength without blood."
The councilors murmured approval. The boy at her side looked up with shining eyes.
"You're brilliant, Mother."
The word stabbed deeper than any blade.
For a heartbeat, Maya imagined it was Aarav's voice. Aarav, proud of her. Aarav, seeing her not as exhausted, not as late, not as struggling — but as enough.
The longing hollowed her chest.
When she blinked awake, she was still in her own bed, dawn light cutting pale stripes across the wall. Aarav snored softly in the next room.
The crown was gone. But the weight of it still pressed against her skull.
And when she rose to make his breakfast, she caught herself straightening her posture as though courtiers still watched.
That day at the diner, when a rude customer snapped at her for mixing up his order, she didn't shrink back. She straightened, voice calm and cutting:"You'll get your food in two minutes. Sit down and wait."
He blinked, startled, then obeyed.
The manager gave her a wide-eyed look."Since when did you grow a spine, Maya?"
She didn't answer. But inside, the crown still glimmered.
That evening, as she walked home with Aarav's hand in hers, he chattered about school projects, about his favorite comic, about a science experiment gone wrong. She nodded, smiling. But part of her mind still replayed the council chamber, the bowing courtiers, the boy who had called her brilliant.
When Aarav asked, "Will you be home tomorrow, Mama?" the question sliced her open.
"Yes," she said instantly.
But the crown's weight pressed harder, whispering: The kingdom awaits.
That night, as she tucked him in, she kissed his forehead and lingered again.
But when she finally closed her eyes, she almost hoped for the throne room.
Almost.