THE TROUBLE WE CARRY

The night had that soft purple haze that makes everything look slightly out of focus, like the world hasn’t quite made up its mind about itself. Juno Reyes stood under the flickering streetlamp outside the closed pharmacy, her breath fogging in front of her in quick, uneven bursts. She kept checking the time on her cracked phone screen, even though she already knew what it said. Midnight. Too late. Much too late.

Inside her jacket pocket, the inhaler rattled like a guilty secret. She hadn’t paid for it. She hadn’t even tried. She’d simply watched the clerk turn the sign to Closed, waited until he’d vanished into the back room, and slipped in through the side door that didn’t latch right. She’d told herself it wasn’t stealing if she put money in the drop box later. She’d told herself she’d only take one. She’d told herself a lot of things.

But standing outside now, hugging herself, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Because the inhaler wasn’t for her. It was for her little brother, Mateo, who’d used the last puff hours earlier, wheezing like his lungs were full of gravel. Their mother worked double shifts and their insurance had lapsed. The refill was too expensive until Friday. Mateo couldn’t wait until Friday.

Juno had known that. Which is why she’d done it, even though every part of her felt burned by the choice.

A breeze swept past, sharp and cold. She zipped her jacket higher and began the walk home, shoes crunching over the salt scattered across the sidewalk. With every step she imagined sirens behind her, imagined someone shouting her name, imagined the police cruiser rolling up beside her with that too-bright spotlight. Nothing happened, of course. She was still alone with her heartbeat banging like a loose drum.

She cut through the alley between Don Julio’s restaurant and the old laundromat. A cat shot out from behind a trash can, its eyes glowing green in the dark. Juno jumped, swore under her breath, then let out a nervous laugh.

“Girl, get it together,” she murmured to herself.

The lights of her apartment building blinked in the distance. Yellow. Fading. Familiar in that tired way everything in her neighborhood was familiar: cracked but hanging on.

She pushed through the front door, taking the stairs instead of risking the elevator that always smelled faintly of burnt rubber. By the second flight, her legs burned. By the third, her nerves steadied. This was her mission. Her choice. Her burden.

She found Mateo curled on the living room couch, a quilt tucked around him, his breathing shallow but steady. A cartoon show flickered silently on the TV, colors bouncing across his sleepy face. Their mother sat beside him, head lolling forward. She was still in her waitress uniform, apron tossed across her lap like she’d meant to stand up but never managed.

Juno’s chest tightened.

She didn’t wake them. Didn’t want to. She walked lightly into the kitchen, unwrapped the inhaler, and set it carefully on the counter where their mom would find it in the morning. She taped a fifteen-dollar bill beside it with a little note.

Will pay the rest Friday. I’m sorry.

Then she retreated to her bedroom and closed the door.

But she didn’t sleep.

Not even close.

Her mind kept looping around the choice she’d made. The right reason. The wrong method. The gray line she’d crossed without blinking. She didn’t want to regret it. She didn’t want to be proud of it either. She wanted… she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

Maybe forgiveness.

Maybe understanding.

Maybe someone to tell her she hadn’t turned into the kind of person she feared.

When the sun finally cracked the horizon, painting the sky in peach tones, she heard her mother moving around in the kitchen. Cupboards opening. Coffee maker sputtering. The soft murmur of her voice as she woke Mateo for school.

Then silence.

Footsteps padded down the hall.

A knock on her door.

“Juno? Honey?”

Her stomach dropped. She sat up slowly, bracing herself.

The door creaked open and her mom stepped in, holding the inhaler in one hand and the fifteen dollars in the other. Her eyes were puffy with exhaustion, but the disappointment was unmistakable.

“Where did this come from?” she asked quietly.

Juno’s mouth went dry. “I… I got it for Mateo. He needed it.”

“I know he needed it,” her mom whispered. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”

Juno stared at the blanket pooled around her knees. Her voice came out small but steady.

“I took it. From the pharmacy.”

Her mother exhaled sharply, like someone had punched her. She sank onto the edge of the bed, rubbing her forehead.

“Oh, Juno. Sweetheart.”

“I know it was wrong,” Juno rushed out. “But Mateo was wheezing, Mom. He couldn’t breathe. And we didn’t have the money, and they were closing, and I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t just watch him struggle.”

Her mom didn’t speak at first. She just stared at the inhaler in her hands, turning it over as if it held the answer to everything.

Finally she sighed.

“You have a good heart,” she said softly. “Too good sometimes. But doing something out of love doesn’t erase the consequences.” She paused. “You could get in real trouble for this.”

“I left money,” Juno said, defensive without meaning to be. “I wasn’t trying to steal.”

“But you did.” Her mother’s voice wavered. “Even if your reasons were pure.”

Juno felt tears prick her eyes. She blinked fast. “Would you rather Mateo ended up in the emergency room?”

“No,” her mom said fiercely. “Of course not. But I wish you had talked to me. We could have figured something out.”

“You were so tired,” Juno whispered. “I didn’t want to add more to your shoulders.”

That was what finally cracked her mother’s composure. Tears slipped down her cheeks, quiet and weary.

“Oh, baby. You don’t have to protect me from everything.”

Juno hugged her, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, letting the morning settle around them.

By noon, they were at the pharmacy. Juno insisted on facing it. Owning it. Whatever came next.

The clerk who’d been working the night before looked up as they approached the counter, confusion flickering across his face.

“You were here yesterday, right?” he asked.

Juno nodded, throat tight.

She placed the inhaler and the fifteen dollars on the counter. “I came to pay for this. And… I’m sorry. I know what I did was wrong.”

Her mother rested a hand on her back in a quiet gesture of support.

The clerk blinked. Then blinked again.

“You… came back to pay?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and she braced herself for judgment, for anger, for the callousness she’d grown too used to in strangers.

Instead, he sighed.

“I figured something like this happened,” he said gently. “I heard your brother wheezing the last time you all were in here. Kids get scared. Families get stuck. It happens.”

Juno didn’t know what to say.

“But,” he continued, “I can’t just ignore it either. Let me get my manager.”

Her heart plummeted.

The manager, a woman in her forties with sharp eyeliner and a soft voice, listened patiently while the clerk explained. Then she turned to Juno.

“Is your brother okay now?”

Juno nodded. “Yeah. He’s breathing easier.”

“That’s good.” The manager folded her arms. “For what it’s worth, you did the wrong thing for the right reason. I can tell. And I’m not going to involve the police.” She paused. “But I do need you to promise you won’t put yourself in that position again.”

“I promise,” Juno breathed.

Relief washed over her so suddenly her knees wobbled.

The manager rang up the inhaler properly, took the fifteen dollars, and told Juno she could bring the rest on Friday. No late fees. No judgment.

Just understanding.

As they left the pharmacy, Juno felt lighter, like a storm cloud had finally passed. Her mom squeezed her hand.

“You scared me,” she said softly. “But you also reminded me how brave you are.”

Juno cracked a smile. “Brave or reckless?”

“A little of both,” her mom said, smiling back. “But always with the right reason.”

Juno looked toward the sky, where sunlight had begun to burn away the last of the morning mist.

Maybe the road hadn’t been straight. Maybe her choice had been messy. But her heart had stayed pointed toward the people she loved.

And sometimes that was enough to steer her back toward what was right.