The question isn't who's going to let me; it's who's going to stop me.
I remember the love stories my parents would retell when I was a child somewhere between the lines, "They say love is blind you could fall in love with the least expected person, it's scary how those people shift from being trivial to the reason you withstand and breathe. Feelings should be feared as they can take over humans' minds and bodies, but they are also the reason the world is more colourful."
It was only when I encountered the right person that the notion of losing became an apprehension weighing upon me. Suddenly, the smallest gestures possessed the power to dismantle the fortress of resilience I had constructed, reducing it to mere grains of sand. In those moments, the once-terrifying notion of vulnerability took hold, its grip unyielding. Yet, amidst the tremors of uncertainty, I found solace in the portrait of love painted by my parents—an exquisite masterpiece crafted with the brushes of affection and desire, colored with the vibrant hues of life's experiences.
Love, akin to the sweetness of honey, possesses the capacity to sting like a bee. I can vividly recall the unwavering certainty with which my mother uttered those words, her conviction reverberating in my ears as I listened, transfixed by her every syllable. Now, as I traverse the path of adulthood, I find myself setting love aside—or so I convince myself night after night, seeking refuge in the belief that I am shielded from its entanglements.
As the sun filtered through the curtains, its warm rays gently illuminated the room. Yet, the presence of two wide, troubled brown eyes before me cast a shadow over the atmosphere, injecting a sense of discord. It seemed that my aspirations and dreams were met with disdain, as if they were invalid fantasies detached from the realm of reality. "You do understand that life doesn't operate in such a simplistic manner, right? Intentions alone won't magically transform into tangible achievements," he scoffed, his words lacking the heroic tone that inspires greatness. Instead, his default approach seemed to be tearing others down, belittling their ambitions and convictions. A tactic employed by those devoid of genuine accomplishment—mere wannabes seeking to bolster their own egos by crushing the dreams and aspirations of others.
Unyielding, I met his negativity with unwavering resolve. "I have meticulously planned every step of this journey, and when I set my mind to something, I will stop at nothing to turn it into reality—even if it takes years, decades, or centuries," I declared with conviction, determined to hold steadfast in my pursuit. His words, like echoes in the wind, fell upon deaf ears, for I vowed not to lend them credence. My gaze locked onto his lackluster hazel eyes, brimming with dissatisfaction, and I found myself undeterred by the discord he attempted to sow.
"You can't simply venture into a foreign land and expect to establish yourself, especially without any prior experience in the industry. How do you envision turning mere ashes into a gilded palace? And let's be realistic, what are the chances of someone like Natalie even considering you?" His words, laden with skepticism, pierced through the air, attempting to extinguish the flickering flame of my ambition.
"Darling, allow me to penetrate that hardened shell of yours. What you're planning is beyond the bounds of imagination. It's absurd," a feminine voice interjected, her tone laced with condescension. "Yes, you possess a degree, and true, you've been working at this firm for a while. But, my dear, that's simply not enough. Not when it comes to catching the attention of someone like Natalie Gonzalez." My gaze shifted, locking onto the source of the feminine voice, bitterness tainting my expression. I couldn't help but wonder, whatever happened to women supporting women? It appeared that notion had been flung carelessly out of the window of her logic.
"Nothing is beyond the realms of imagination. I didn't come here seeking your approval or judgment on the feasibility of my goals. I simply wanted to inform you that I will be departing from England for a few months. There's no need for your concern. I'm sharing this with you because we've been colleagues in the fashion industry, working together within this firm for five years." Rising from my seat, I forcefully push the chair back, refusing to tolerate their dismissive attitudes any longer. Without a second glance, I turn and stride away.
I wasn't raised to passively sit and be objectified while others impose their will upon me.
It's either kill or be killed.
***
My hand clasped on the steering wheel I roll my eyes from resentment, "You recognize that you can't just take off without providing a reasonable explanation." My high school friend contended through the phone.
God, I love my supportive friends what more could I ask for?
I am genuinely not being sarcastic.
"Sam, I have my reasons for leaving the country, and at this point in my journey, it is my parents who deserve a full explanation," I stated firmly, my gaze locked on the road ahead, determined that today wouldn't be the day I met my end in a tragic car accident.
"What about me, Alexandra? Don't I deserve to know why you're leaving England so abruptly?" Her voice cracked, laced with desperation. I couldn't comprehend why she was being so melodramatic when I had already divulged everything to her.
Everything that I made up on the spot.
"Sam I have already told you why I am leaving, I have to go but I will be back, just have faith in me this once!" I pleaded.
"Fine, just please take care of yourself. It's a foreign country and, well, anything can happen—especially when you're a woman," I could sense the genuine concern lacing her words.
"I'm not heading into a war zone, you know. I'm going to Italy, where people are friendly and the food is incredible," I playfully teased. "But rest assured, I'll make sure to stay safe."
Or at least, that's the plan for now.
Ending the call, I pulled the car over and stepped out, embarking on a journey towards a destination called home. It was the place where I took my first steps, where I was nurtured and shaped, a place that witnessed my joys and sorrows. With a mix of emotions, I gripped the key tightly and unlocked the door, entering the familiar threshold. Instantly, I was greeted by the piercing gaze of two azure eyes.
"Alexa, is what Kylo said true?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with urgency.
"Well, greetings to you too, Mother," I greeted with a smile, removing my boots and hanging my jacket on the nearby hanger.
"Alexa, is it true?" Her voice had steadied, but concern still lingered within her words.
"Yes, it's true," I confirmed, making my way into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and retrieved the orange juice bottle. "Try not to drink straight from the bottle; it's not very ladylike," my mom interjected, swiftly changing the topic. Letting out a huff of frustration, I grabbed a mug from the countertop and began pouring the juice into it.
"Why?" she asked, her voice saturated with sorrow, and I knew exactly what she was referring to.
"Mother, please try to understand. This is what I yearn for, my chance to embark on a new beginning. I feel like I've missed out on so many steps in life, and this is my opportunity to catch up," I explained, gently clasping my elderly mother's hands in mine.
"You are my only child. It's not easy for me to simply say 'goodbye.' We've always been by each other's side, never apart for more than a month," she admitted, taking a deep breath. "However, your happiness means everything to me, and if staying with me isn't what you truly desire, I can't hold you back."
"I promise I will be safe but I can't promise I wouldn't take risks and I will be back and will make you proud." I gave her a reassuring smile then I continued, "I will leave before dad comes back unfortunately but please explain everything to him so he won't get worried, although he is already aware of every small detail." My mom nodded before I planted a kiss on her forehead, "You and your dad and your little secrets." she teases poking my stomach softly,
I giggle walking off, "What can I say I have always been daddy's girl."
Her laughter resonated from down the corridor, soothing my heart and easing my worries. It was a comforting sign that she was gradually coming to terms with the notion of me departing. It's undeniably difficult to bid farewell to the house and the familiar surroundings that have been my haven since the very first cry that escaped my lips. However, in order to discover what truly aligns with my best interests, I must venture forth. Even the baby birds eventually leave the nest once they've gained the ability to soar through the skies.
Having meticulously prepared for the day that lay ahead, my bags stood at the ready, waiting to accompany me on my journey. Slipping into the soothing embrace of silk pyjamas, I secured my hair into a neat bun, ensuring not a strand would distract me. As I nestled beneath the covers, their deep, shaded blue hue enveloped me, creating a sense of serenity in the room. Yet, as the night loomed before a significant day, sleep eluded me. Restlessly, I tossed and turned, unable to coax my weary eyes shut and surrender to the realm of dreams.
Desperate for solace, I clutched my pillow close, a familiar companion in moments of sleeplessness, and quietly made my way from my room to the sanctuary of my mother's bedroom. Rapping on the door with a rhythmic pattern—three firm knocks—I paused, awaiting a response. From the other side, a faint invitation to enter reached my ears, coaxing me forward. Gently, I pushed the door open, revealing my mother, reclining upon the bed.
Though the passage of time had bestowed upon her the grace of maturity, she remained a vision of elegance and timeless beauty. Her flawless, milky complexion radiated a soft glow, while her captivating blue eyes, framed by a cascade of chestnut locks, held a depth that mirrored her wisdom. The faint lines etched upon her lips were a testament to a life richly lived, further enhancing her allure. Anastasia Miller, my mother, had remained steadfast in her enduring loveliness, a constant presence throughout the years.
"Mum, can I please sleep beside you tonight, just like in the old days?" I implored, clasping my pillow and presenting it to her with an earnest gaze.
Seated on the edge of the bed, my mother's eyes softened with affection as a gentle giggle escaped her lips. Recognizing the nostalgia that enveloped my plea, she extended her hand, beckoning me closer to the cherished space next to her—an intimate haven reserved for my father, who resided afar. Heart brimming with anticipation, I stepped further into the room, softly closing the door behind me, before bounding towards her, my inner child exuding uncontainable excitement. Settling down beside her, I relished the warmth that radiated from her presence, as she tenderly draped a pristine white blanket over us, cocooning us in a comforting embrace. Nestled against her, I reveled in the rhythmic strokes of her hand, gently caressing my head, a touch that spoke volumes of her love and reassurance.
"Goodnight, Butterfly," she whispered softly, her endearing nickname for me echoing through the room. Since the very first day, she had lovingly bestowed upon me that cherished name—a moniker that never failed to warm my heart. Nestling deeper into her comforting embrace, I inhaled the soothing fragrance of lavender that emanated from her, an aroma that had become synonymous with safety and solace. With every breath, I felt a tranquil calm washing over me, as if being enveloped in a cocoon of maternal love.
As I surrendered to the drowsiness that weighed upon my eyelids, I gradually allowed my eyes to flutter closed, slipping effortlessly into the realm of dreams. Even as the years advanced and the passage of time sculpted my life, nothing could rival the profound embrace of a mother. No matter how old I grew, her arms remained a haven—an eternal sanctuary where I discovered unwavering support, tenderness, and unconditional love.
••••
"I can't fathom your sudden departure," my mother sobbed, her tears streaming down her exquisite countenance. Drawing near, I tenderly wiped away her glistening teardrops.
"Mother, you know I'm incapable of remaining idle and merely adorning myself," I reassured, enfolding her in a tight embrace.
"Dearest child, my love for you knows no bounds," she whispered, barely audible.
"The depth of my affection surpasses yours, Mother," I whispered in return.
I bid her farewell, finally leaving behind my beloved house, embarking on the uncertain path I had just chosen. Never once did I entertain the thought of returning, yet here I am now, retracing my steps to where it all began—where I was wounded and left with scars. However, this time, as I survey my surroundings, I am determined not to lock eyes with strangers. In the past, I was easily manipulated, but those days are long gone. I have endured the harshest days and survived the coldest nights, making the challenges ahead a mere walk in the park. I refuse to retreat this time, persisting until I attain what I truly deserve, even if it is not a gift bestowed by fate. I will grasp hold of what is rightfully mine. As I conclude this journey, I solemnly pledge to possess everything I have ever yearned for.