The Weight of a Mother's Sigh

The soft morning sun, filtering through the windowpane, seemed to paint the dancing dust motes in the old room with a golden hue, making them shimmer and swirl with an almost willful beauty. I, ‘Nge’yarr’, lay on my back on the bed, gazing at those specks of light. I held my hands out in front of my face, flexing my fingers, then turned them over, watching the sunbeams play across them. Was this reality, or just a figment of a nightmare I couldn't escape? I couldn't tell. My existence, submerged for eight hours a day, six days a week, in a sea of numbers, had reduced me to nothing more than a robot programmed by my surroundings. I hadn't found a way out of the trap of the real world. Or rather, I hadn't bothered to look.

"Yeint… Mama isn't feeling very well," the faint, weak groan from the corner of the darkened room, where my mother lay, struck my chest with the force of a heavy blow. Some of my acquaintances, my childhood friends, used to add a suffix to my name, calling me 'Nge'yarr'. But Mother never did. She didn't want anything related to 'Hell' to cast even a shadow over her son. She called me Yeint, for she wanted me to be brave in everything.

But Mother knew, and I knew, that a man named Yeint, brave in name, possessed no valor in the face of hospital bills, medicine costs, and the crushing weight of debt. The salary of an ordinary accountant was hardly enough to warrant any bravery.

That night, I remained alone in the office. Staring at the company's secret bank account on the computer screen and the calculator, my fingers trembled. I knew the nature of cancer – that it would eventually bid farewell, but I could no longer bear to witness the pain hidden behind my mother's forced smiles. "Do what you have to do with a clear mind, son. I'm feeling better. If you get some leave, we'll go back to Kyarku for a while to rest. I'll be able to rest and recover there," she had said. I knew she truly wanted to return to our village, Kyarku. She was thinking of happy thoughts to ease her pain, but her son knew her eyes betrayed her.

If I pressed this button, everything would change. The 'good boy' Yeint, who always bowed his head and maintained a smile in front of others, would cease to exist right here. Just as dead cells could never be reborn, I hadn't envisioned seeing my mother's smiles fade, but for her to be able to offer even a faint, brave smile at the end of her life, was this opportunity, this fleeting moment, this period, something I should let slip away? Without hesitation, I pressed the Enter key.

When I returned home deep in the night, I knelt beside my sleeping mother's bed. I whispered a choked sob from my heart. "Mother… son has killed someone. I have killed the Yeint who was too good in front of you. Please don't cry, Mother… please don't cry…" In the pitch darkness of the night, I had committed something far more dark and foul. Though I had initiated an irreversible event, I felt as though my soul was looking at me with a smile, offering solace. But for the rest of my life, I wanted to confess to Mother. Even though I knew she wouldn't hear me through the haze of medication, the thing that gave me the courage to wash away my own ego, to speak the truth to Mother, was that I had to say it, whether she heard or not. Speaking in a whisper, my voice trailed off, and the pang of regret flowed like a cool breeze through my veins.

A week later, a week that felt like an eternity, came a morning I would never forget. The world continued to turn as if nothing had happened, but for me, everything had shattered like a broken mirror. The tap-tap of the intern girl's keyboard in the office sounded like a confession before a spectral interrogator. The manager's cough was like the judge's merciless verdict. The hushed gossip of colleagues, their faces contorted as they spoke to each other, echoed in my ears like the mournful, meaningless cries of mourners at a funeral.

Then, I felt a sharp tug on my collar from behind. "Nge'yarr… he stole it… these financial statements, he manipulated them… Guards, hold this man tight. He'll run before the police can even question him…" "Before he took leave, his working overtime at the office wasn't natural, so I checked the CCTV records thoroughly, sir. This fellow had been planning this from the start. He looked like a harmless cat, didn't he? What's this… Yeint? What, you have the guts to steal? Huh? Nge'yarr, you damn beggar, thief!" The voices of the manager and his assistants, who had previously given me countless loans and requests, now seemed to be snatching everything they could from Nge'yarr, as if the victors took all.

A cacophony of voices, a barrage of gazes, whirled around my head, mocking me. Amidst the disorienting chaos, I felt my breath catching. A thousand eyes of the surroundings seemed to fix upon me like vultures, famished and ready to tear me apart. My every step faltered, threatening to send me tumbling. Before my steps could take me to send my mother back to Kyarku village, amidst the whispered confessions escaping my lips, would I myself fall first?

The manager's and his assistant's bitter words, the scornful eyes of my colleagues, were like insurmountable walls closing in on me. Two police officers entered the room calmly, their handcuffs already in hand. "Was I wrong? Am I wrong…? Haven't I told them about the unbearable pain, the suffering I've endured? Haven't they heard my cries, begging for salvation? What are these looks now…? I'm not a thief. Right? Am I a thief? What I stole… what I stole…" My words, spoken to no one in particular, rang in my ears, threatening to shatter them. In that moment, all the pent-up frustration, all the suppressed humiliation of years, exploded within me, like a rupture in my veins. I slammed my fist onto the desk in front of me, sending financial statement files and computer screens flying.

"Yes! I stole! I did it!" My furious roar shook the entire office like an earthquake. I stared at the manager and the onlookers, who were now surrounding me, with the intense gaze of a wounded tiger ready to pounce and tear apart its prey. "Do you all want to smash my face with stones and kill me until there's nothing left? All of you… Which one of you is clean? Which one of you is honest? Are you all so saintly, so upright? My mother… My mother…" Yeint couldn't continue. He fell silent, an apparent madman, his outburst subsiding. The two police officers, stunned, regained their senses and moved to strike him with their batons.

"This beggar wants to die. Fuck… your mother? After doing whatever you want, are you going to cry and make your mother feel sorry for you? What is it? Is it because your mother is about to die that you're doing this…?"

"Aaah…!!" "Hey… Nge'yarr!" "Oh my god… I'm dying!"

Before one of the officers could finish his sentence, amidst the screams, an unthinkable act occurred. Yeint lunged at the police officer, embracing him, and together they tumbled out of the office window.

…

On the ground below the high-rise office window, amidst the shattered glass, lay a gruesome scene of blood, staining the earth in a vibrant crimson. Blood streamed from ‘Yeint’s’ head, smearing his entire face mercilessly. Yet, from within that viscous crimson, the corner of his lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile. One of his arms was grotesquely broken, bone protruding through his torn shirt, but the police officer who had fallen with him lay groaning, unable to move. The clamor of the surrounding crowd, the stares of the onlookers, meant nothing to Yeint anymore. He knew that charges of attempted murder of a public servant, theft, and a subsequent death would await him. But he had already managed to send the money for his mother's medical expenses and the travel costs for her trip to Kyarku village. His heart felt completely light. Hadn't he boldly, courageously, rebelled and escaped from the life of 'Nge'yarr'?

Moments later, an old police van arrived. Yeint was placed inside, behind its iron bars, and driven away. Despite the searing pain from his injuries, he leaned against the van door, letting out a hollow chuckle. Whatever the world decided for him… in the end, nothing truly mattered.

At that moment, the police van suddenly stopped at a traffic light in the city. This city's police station was a joke; the relevant district station was at the far northern end of the city. How long had they been driving from the scene of the incident to their current destination, he didn't know. From a roadside stall selling loudspeakers and speakers next to the traffic light, a song boomed out, as if being tested. A gentle piano melody accompanied Freddie Mercury's mournful voice, seeping through the bars.

"Nothing really matters…"

"I really like this song, Mother…" The special security guard, who had accompanied him in the van, could hear him despite his subdued voice. Thinking, "What nonsense will this madman spout now?" he cocked his rifle and shouted to the driver, "This guy is singing songs deliriously, sir."

The police van remained stationary. The two officers from the front hurried out.

"…Anyway the wind blows…"

Holding onto the bars of the window, Yeint gently closed his eyes, savoring the fading notes of the music and the evening breeze. A sliver of light, from the police officers’ aimed rifles… the rays of the setting sun, fractured by the bars and the gun barrels, streamed before him.

Spreading his hands to catch the pale sunlight, he thought… This isn't a dream, Mother. This is the reality I chose.

Thahtetsitt 26.6.2026.22:17

(In Memory of Nge'yarr)