Coming home after a week of working closely with Victor Bennett felt different. The air in the cramped flat seemed heavier, and my mother's usual silence was no longer a comfort but a reprimand. Her disapproval radiated through the room, louder than any words she could have spoken.
"You've been late every night this week," she finally said as I entered, her tone laced with suspicion.
"It's work," I replied, forcing calm into my voice. "I'm handling an important project."
She turned to face me, her weary eyes searching mine. "And what kind of work requires expensive new clothes and long dinners?" Her gaze lingered on the tailored jacket Victor had insisted I wear for a client meeting earlier that day.
I hesitated, the truth bubbling just below the surface. "It's an opportunity, Mama. One that could change our lives. Don't you want that?"
"Not like this, Alis," she snapped, her voice breaking. "I've seen women chase these so-called opportunities before. It always ends in heartbreak."
Her words stung, but I refused to back down. "You don't understand," I said, my voice rising. "You've never understood. I'm trying to give us a better life, to get us out of this… this suffocating existence. Isn't that what you've always wanted for me?"
She looked at me with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Not at the cost of your dignity," she said quietly. "Not by losing yourself."
I turned away, unable to meet her gaze. Her words felt like chains, anchoring me to a life I was desperate to escape. But guilt clawed at me, a nagging reminder that she was only trying to protect me. Still, I couldn't let her doubts derail me. Not now.
My younger brother, Danny, entered the room then, his expression tense. At sixteen, he was already trying to shoulder responsibilities far beyond his years. He'd taken on a part-time job to help with expenses, and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes.
"What's going on?" he asked, glancing between me and our mother.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just a difference of opinion."
He frowned, clearly unconvinced. "You've been acting different lately, Alis. What's really going on?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I'm just trying to make things better for us. Is that so hard to understand?"
"Better for who?" he shot back, his tone sharper than I'd expected. "Because it doesn't feel like you're doing this for us. It feels like you're doing it for yourself."
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Was I being selfish? Was my ambition blinding me to the needs of my family? I shook my head, dismissing the thought. They just didn't see the bigger picture.
"I'm doing what needs to be done," I said firmly, meeting his gaze. "You'll understand someday."
But the look on his face told me he wasn't convinced. And deep down, I wasn't sure I was either.
The tension at home grew in the days that followed. My mother's disapproving silence became a constant presence, and Danny's frustration bubbled just beneath the surface. I threw myself into my work with Victor, using it as an escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the flat.
Victor, as always, was a calming presence. He didn't pry or ask questions about my personal life, but his subtle gestures of support—a kind word, a knowing smile—were enough to keep me grounded. I began spending more time at the office, staying late under the guise of work but really just avoiding the storm brewing at home.
One evening, as Victor and I reviewed a presentation for an upcoming pitch, he looked up from his laptop and studied me.
"You seem distracted," he said, his tone gentle but probing.
I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's just family stuff. Nothing I can't handle."
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Family can be complicated. But remember, Alis, you're not obligated to carry their burdens. Sometimes, you have to put yourself first."
His words resonated with me, validating the choices I'd made and the path I was determined to follow. But they also reminded me of the growing divide between me and my family. The more I pursued my ambitions, the further I seemed to drift from them.
That night, as I walked home, I thought about my mother and Danny. They wanted what was best for me, but their vision of a better life was so small, so limited. I couldn't let their fears hold me back. I had to keep pushing forward, no matter the cost.
When I reached the flat, my mother was waiting for me again. She didn't say anything, just looked at me with that same mix of disappointment and concern. Danny was in the corner, his head down as he scribbled in a notebook. The tension was palpable, and for the first time, I felt like a stranger in my own home.
"Goodnight," I said softly, retreating to my cot without waiting for a response.
As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I felt the weight of my choices pressing down on me. The gap between me and my family was widening, and I wasn't sure if it could ever be bridged. But I also knew I couldn't turn back now. The first big opportunity had come, and I was determined to see it through—no matter what I had to sacrifice along the way.