**The Weight of a Man**

Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper in his childhood bedroom. At 28, he was still living with his mother, a fact that gnawed at him every day. He had gone to college, earned a degree in business, but here he was—unemployed, unmotivated, and unsure of what to do next. His mother, a widow, never complained. She worked long hours as a nurse, her hands rough from years of labor, and her smile still warm despite the weight of life. Ethan hated that he couldn't ease her burden.

The pressure to provide, to be the man his father had been, was suffocating. He felt it in his chest, a constant ache that grew heavier with each passing day. His friends were moving forward—getting married, buying homes, starting families—while he felt stuck, like a car spinning its wheels in mud.

One morning, the ache in his chest sharpened. He clutched his shirt, gasping for air. His mother rushed him to the hospital, where the doctors ran tests. It wasn't a heart attack, but it was a wake-up call. "Stress," the doctor said, "can do terrible things to the body." Ethan looked at his mother's worried face and felt a surge of guilt. He couldn't keep living like this. He had to do something—for her.

That night, he lay awake, his mind racing. He remembered a friend who had invested in wholesale clothing from China and made a decent profit. It was risky, but Ethan was desperate. He reached out to an old college classmate, Marcus, who had some money to spare. After a long conversation, Marcus agreed to lend him $5,000. "Don't mess this up, Ethan," Marcus warned. "This is my savings."

Ethan spent days researching, contacting suppliers, and negotiating prices. He finally found a warehouse in China that offered high-quality clothes at a reasonable price. He placed his order, praying it would pay off. When the shipment arrived, he worked tirelessly—marketing, selling, and delivering the clothes himself. He barely slept, but the thought of his mother kept him going.

Months passed, and to his surprise, the business took off. People loved the clothes, and orders poured in. Ethan reinvested the profits, expanding his inventory and even hiring a small team. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of purpose. He wasn't just surviving; he was building something.

One evening, he took his mother out to dinner at a nice restaurant—something he had never been able to do before. As they sat by the window, the city lights twinkling outside, he handed her a small box. Inside was a gold bracelet, simple but elegant. Her eyes filled with tears as she put it on. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered.

Ethan smiled, but inside, he felt a mix of relief and determination. He had accomplished something, but he knew this was just the beginning. The pressure to provide would always be there, but now, he felt like he could carry it. For his mother, for himself, and for the man he was becoming.