Bound by Ambition, Driven by Desire

Where It All Began

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As dawn broke, the world outside my window came alive with buzzing sounds. The soft chirping of birds harmonized with the distant hum of traffic, creating a familiar morning melody that both soothed and excited me. I sat up in bed, the cool cotton sheets slipping from my shoulders as I took a moment to breathe in the crisp morning air, tinged with the faint scent of fresh coffee and pancakes brewing in the kitchen.

Sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating my modest apartment and casting playful shadows on the walls. The warm glow highlighted the vibrant colors of my sketches scattered across the desk—each one a testament to late nights spent pouring my heart into designs that spoke to my soul. It's been 2 months since I graduated from university with a degree in Fashion Design, and after my graduation, I dove headfirst into the job market, armed with a portfolio bursting with creativity and ambition.

I meticulously crafted applications for various prestigious fashion companies—names that echoed in the industry like legends. Each application was tailored to reflect not only my skills but also my deep understanding of each brand’s ethos. I poured my heart into cover letters that articulated my passion for fashion and my desire to contribute to the ever-evolving landscape of style.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The thrill of sending out applications gradually morphed into a weighty anxiety as I faced rejection after rejection. The silence from the companies was deafening; it felt as if my dreams were slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. Each unanswered email chipped away at my confidence, leaving behind a sense of doubt that lingered like an unwelcome shadow.

After freshening up, I made my way to the kitchen. "Good morning" I greeted Laylah, who stood at the stove, flipping pancakes in a weird way as the golden-brown discs sizzled in the pan. "Good morning. You're just on time! I'm almost finished here take your place on the couch" she called over her shoulder, her voice cheerful and inviting. The aroma of vanilla and butter filled the air. I grabbed my favorite cup from the cupboard and poured myself some coffee and made my way to the couch. I grabbed my laptop on the table and started scrolling through yet another email rejection.

I sighed dramatically, throwing my head back against the cushions. “Laylah, I think I’ve officially reached expert level in job rejection. I should put it on my resume: ‘Professional Rejected Applicant.’”
Laylah, burst into the apartment with a flourish. “Did someone say ‘expert’? Because I’m pretty sure that title belongs to me after all those times I tried to bake a soufflé and ended up with a pancake!”

Mia chuckled, shaking her head. “I mean, at least your pancakes were edible. I can’t even get a company to look at my resume without sending me a ‘thank you for your interest’ email that feels more like a breakup text.”
“Hey, look on the bright side!” Laylah plopped down beside Mia, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “At least you’re not being ghosted by a date! Imagine the horror if they sent you an email saying, ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’”

“Ugh, don’t remind me! I’d rather take ten more rejection emails than go on another date with someone who thinks ‘Netflix and chill’ is a personality trait,” Mia groaned.

“Speaking of which,” Laylah said, glancing at her watch. “I need to get to Julia’s salon before she starts calling me every five minutes. You know how she gets when she’s in stylist mode—like a caffeinated squirrel.”
Mia laughed. “Go save the world one haircut at a time! I’ll just be here, refreshing my email like it’s my new favorite hobby.”

As Laylah grabbed her bag and headed for the door, she turned back. “Remember, Mia: every ‘no’ is just one step closer to a ‘yes!’ And if all else fails, there’s always the option of becoming a professional cat lady.”
“Right! Because that’s what every girl dreams of!” Mia called out as Laylah left.

Once alone, Mia resumed her vigil over her inbox. Minutes turned into an hour as she stared at the screen in frustration. “Come on!” she muttered to herself. “How hard can it be to find someone who appreciates my skills in fashion design?”
Just as she was about to close her laptop and take a break from the digital disappointment, an email notification popped up. Heart racing, she clicked it open.

Subject: Interview Invitation from Elysian Couture.

Mia’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “No way!” She leaped off the couch, nearly knocking over her coffee mug in excitement. “Elysian Couture? This is huge!”

She grabbed her phone and dialed Laylah’s number with trembling fingers.
“Hello?” Laylah answered, sounding slightly out of breath.
“Mia? Is everything okay?”
“Everything is more than okay! You won’t believe what just happened!” Mia squealed.
“Mia! I’m literally about to walk into a salon full of hair dryers and gossiping clients! What could possibly be so important?”
“I got an interview with Elysian Couture!”

There was silence on the line before Laylah erupted into laughter. “You’re kidding! You’re not pulling my leg like that time you pretended to be a runway model in our living room!”
“No! This is real! I can’t believe it!” Mia exclaimed.
“Okay, okay! But you do realize that this means you have to stop wearing those sweatpants everywhere, right? They might not scream ‘fashionista’ during your interview!”
“Hey! These sweatpants are classy!” Mia protested playfully.
“Classy? Honey, they’re practically begging for retirement!” Laylah teased.

“Anyways, I’ll come by after work so we can celebrate properly” Laylah promised before hanging up.
As Mia settled back into her couch with a grin plastered across her face, she felt lighter than air. The world didn’t seem so bleak anymore; after all, sometimes all it took was one email to change everything—and a best friend who could always make her laugh along the way.

I hope you like it : )

Peace

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