The diners secret

Chapter One.

It was just past dawn when Ava slipped out of the small, creaky bedroom shared with her younger brothers. The room was cold, the thin walls of their tiny apartment doing little to keep out the chill of the morning. She tucked the worn blanket back over Danny and Luke, her twin brothers, careful not to wake them. At seven, they slept like the world hadn't already begun to press its weight on their small shoulders. Ava envied them for that.

She tiptoed across the room, her bare feet silent on the old wooden floor. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater struggling to keep the place warm. She paused at the door to her parents' room, listening for any signs of life inside. The low murmur of the television and the occasional cough from her father were the only sounds. Her mother was probably up, sitting beside his bed, keeping watch like she always did.

Ava sighed, pushing the door open just a crack. Her mother sat in the worn-out armchair by the bed, her frail frame silhouetted against the pale light of the TV. She was asleep, head resting on her hand, looking far older than her forty-five years. Her father was in the bed, his face turned toward the window, eyes half-closed, staring at nothing. His breathing was shallow, but steady. For now, at least.
"Mom," Ava whispered, stepping into the room. "Mom, you should go back to bed. I'll take over for a while."
Her mother stirred, blinking up at her. "Ava, you're up early," she said softly, her voice thick with exhaustion. "You have a long day ahead. Go get some more rest."
"I'm fine. You need sleep more than I do." Ava gently took her mother's hand, guiding her to stand. "Come on, I'll be here if Dad needs anything."
Her mother hesitated but eventually nodded, too tired to argue. "Just for a little while," she murmured, shuffling toward the door. "Wake me if anything changes."
"I will," Ava promised.

Once her mother had gone, Ava sank into the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. She glanced over at her father, his once-strong frame now thin and frail beneath the blankets. There was a time when he'd been the heart of their family—working two jobs of his own, always smiling despite the hardships, always making sure there was food on the table. But the illness had come suddenly and without mercy, stripping him of his strength and leaving him bedridden for the past year.

Her mother had tried to hold everything together at first, but her own health had started to fail. Now, it was Ava who had to be strong. Ava who had to keep the family afloat.
She looked down at her hands, calloused from endless hours at the diner and the late-night shifts at the convenience store. She worked every spare moment, saving what little she could after paying the bills and buying groceries. The dream of opening her own diner—once bright and alive in her mind—now seemed so far away, a distant hope she barely had time to think about.
But it was still there, flickering faintly. A promise she had made to herself years ago, back when life had been simpler, and the future hadn't seemed so daunting. She could still see it sometimes when she closed her eyes—a small place, cozy and warm, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and homemade pies. A place that was hers.
But for now, her dreams had to wait.
Ava checked the time—almost six. She had an hour before her shift at the diner started. She leaned forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from her father's forehead. "I'll be back soon, Dad," she whispered. "Just hang in there a little longer."
She stood and quietly left the room, heading to the small bathroom to get ready. The mirror reflected a face that looked older than her twenty  years. Dark circles under her eyes, pale skin, and dark hair that was always pulled back in a ponytail because there was no time to do anything else with it. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to wake herself up. Another long day awaited her.

The diner was a twenty-minute walk from their apartment, but Ava didn't mind the distance. The early morning air was crisp, and the streets were quiet, allowing her a few moments of peace before the chaos of the day began. As she walked, she let herself imagine her own diner again, picturing every detail—the colors, the menu, the regular customers who would come in every morning just like the ones at Joe's Diner did now.