Maya quickly learned that chasing a dream came with sacrifices.
Her bank account was shrinking fast. She canceled her gym membership, cut down on takeout, and started working from coffee shops that wouldn't kick her out after one cup.
She woke up early and stayed up late, networking with potential sponsors, pitching stories to writers, and designing the Concrete Roses website herself when the first freelancer she hired ghosted her.
One night, as she sat on her couch with her laptop, a half-eaten bagel on the coffee table, her phone rang.
"Ma." She smiled, sitting up straighter.
"Mija," her mother's voice was soft but firm, like always. "How's work?"
Maya hesitated. "It's… different. I quit The Pulse."
Silence.
Then, "Maya, are you serious?"
"I needed to do something for me."
"Mija, you had a good job. A stable job. You worked so hard for that."
"I know," Maya sighed. "But I want more than just stability. I want to build something real."
Her mother exhaled. "I just don't want you to struggle, baby."
Maya swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'll figure it out, Ma."
Her mother didn't sound convinced, but she didn't push. "You always do."