Being a single dad was never the life I imagined. But after everything else in my world lost meaning, it was the only thing I had left—and I was ready to fight for it no matter what.

I work two jobs just to hold onto a cramped apartment that always smells like someone else’s cooking. I mop. I scrub. I keep the windows open. Still, it smells like curry, onions, or burnt toast.

Most nights, it feels like everything is barely holding together.