il mio professore

Chapter 4 ~~✨

After a heavy silence, my mother spoke first, her voice softer. "Livia, we only wanted what we thought was best for you." She glanced at my father, who remained stoically silent. "But... these drawings... they're powerful. They speak volumes."

"Exactly," I pressed, feeling a spark of hope. "These aren't just random sketches; they represent my feelings, my dreams. I can't live a life that isn't mine. I want to be an artist, not a pawn in someone else's game."

My mother's brow furrowed as she studied the illustrations. "Livia, we understand that you want to pursue your art, but marrying Mr. Moreno would provide you with stability, security... a future that many girls would envy."

"Stability?" I echoed, incredulous. "Is that what you think I want? A life where I'm trapped in a gilded cage? I don't want to be defined by who I marry. I want to define myself by what I create!"

"Life isn't just about passion, Livia," my father interjected, his tone firm. "You have responsibilities. You can't just chase whims and dreams without considering the practicalities. This marriage would secure your future, and Mr. Moreno is a good man. You could learn a lot from him."

"Learn what?" I shot back, my frustration boiling over. "How to give up my dreams? How to live for someone else? This isn't fair! You can't just arrange my life like it's some business transaction!"

"Enough!" my father thundered, slamming his hand on the table. "You will respect our wishes. We've sacrificed so much for you. This is what you owe us."

"Sacrificed?" I retorted, incredulous. "You think forcing me into a marriage is a sacrifice? You're trying to control my life because you think you know what's best for me. But you don't understand who I am or what I want!"

My mother's eyes softened, but they were still clouded with disappointment. "Livia, we're only trying to protect you. You're young, and you don't see the bigger picture."

"No, you don't see it!" I exclaimed, my voice rising. "You're blind to my dreams and desires. You think this is about protection, but it feels like a prison. I love art, and I want to explore that passion. I want to find my own path, even if it's uncertain!"

My father's expression hardened. "You are being foolish. You think you can just ignore your responsibilities and do whatever you want? Life is not a fairy tale, Livia. You need to be realistic."

"Realistic?" I shot back, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "Is it realistic to stifle my spirit? Is it realistic to marry a man I barely know just because it's 'practical'? I refuse to accept that as my future!"

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. My mother looked down at the sketches again, her expression shifting from disappointment to concern. "You need to understand, Livia, that we have your best interests at heart."

"But what about my interests?" I cried, my voice breaking. "What about my happiness?"

"Your happiness will come from a secure future," my father said, his voice cold and unyielding. "You may not realize it now, but you will thank us one day. Everyone has to make sacrifices."

"Not this kind of sacrifice!" I exclaimed, my heart racing with desperation. "I refuse to give up my dreams for a life I don't want. If you think this marriage will make me happy, you're wrong."

With that, I gathered my sketches and stormed out of the room, my heart pounding. I could hear my parents calling after me, but I didn't stop. I fled to my studio, the only sanctuary where I felt truly free. I poured my emotions into my art, each stroke of the brush a cathartic release of my pain and anger.

Days turned into weeks, and while my parents continued to pressure me about the marriage, I stood my ground. I spent long hours in the studio, sketching and painting, losing myself in a world where I could express my true self. But the weight of my parents' expectations loomed over me like a dark cloud, and I knew that confrontation was inevitable.

Eventually, when the tension became unbearable, I decided to speak to Mr. Moreno again. I needed to know if there was any way to navigate this situation without losing everything I held dear.

After class one day, I approached him, my heart racing. "Professor Moreno, can we talk?"

"Of course, Ms. Acacius," he replied, his expression inviting yet serious. "What's on your mind?"

"I've spoken to my parents about the marriage arrangement," I said, my voice steady but tinged with anxiety. "They refuse to understand my perspective. They believe it's what's best for me, regardless of how I feel."

Mr. Moreno regarded me thoughtfully. "I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Acacius. It's a difficult situation, and I can only imagine how stressful it must be for you."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I had to say next. "But I also wanted to talk to you about... well, about us. I know my parents have set this up, and I've been fighting against it. But if it's what they truly want, maybe it's time for me to accept it."

He looked taken aback by my sudden resignation. "are you sure? You don't have to-"

"I do," I interrupted, my voice firmer than I felt. "I can't keep living in conflict. They think they know what's best for me, and it's exhausting trying to convince them otherwise. If this marriage is what they want, maybe it's time I stop fighting it."

Mr. Moreno's brows knitted together. "But you deserve to pursue your own happiness. Just because your parents have a vision for your life doesn't mean you have to conform to it."

"I know," I whispered, feeling the weight of tears in my eyes. "But I'm tired. Tired of the arguments, tired of feeling like I'm fighting a losing battle. Maybe it's easier to give in. They want security for me, and I can't fault them for that. I can't keep being the rebellious daughter when they only want what they think is best."

He sighed, clearly torn. "Ms Acacius, you're incredibly talented and passionate. While I understand the pressure you're under, I still believe you have the power to shape your own future. This isn't just about them; it's about you living a life that reflects who you are."

"Maybe that's a luxury I can't afford," I replied, my voice breaking. "I can't ignore the fact that they've sacrificed so much for me. It feels selfish to reject their wishes. If this is what they believe will make me happy, who am I to challenge that?"

Mr. Moreno's expression softened, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. "Ms Acacius, please don't feel like you have to sacrifice your dreams for the sake of others. You have so much potential, and it would be tragic to see you give that up."

"Maybe it's not giving up," I said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Maybe it's just finding a different path. If I marry you, Mr Moreno, I might still have the chance to create art on the side. Maybe I can find a way to make it work."

"Ms Acacius..." he started, but I could see he was struggling to find the right words. "I don't want you to feel trapped in a life you didn't choose. You should never feel that you have to sacrifice your happiness for anyone else."

"I appreciate your concern, but I think I've made my decision," I said, my voice steadier now. "I just want to find some peace."

He nodded slowly, a look of resignation crossing his face. "If this is truly what you want, I can't stop you. But promise me that this is a decision you're making for yourself and not just out of obligation."

"I promise," I said, even though a part of me felt like I was lying. Deep down, I knew I was still wrestling with the weight of my parents' expectations, but I didn't want to admit that to him.

As I walked away from the conversation, a deep sense of loss settled in my chest. I had convinced myself that giving in was the right thing to do, but the thought of losing my freedom weighed heavily on me. The vibrant colors of my dreams felt muted, overshadowed by the looming reality of a life I hadn't chosen.