Ink and Heartstrings

36. A Night of Reflection

That evening, the house was quieter than usual, the weight of unspoken words filling every corner. Maria stayed in her room, the door closed against the heavy silence. Her journal lay open on the desk, its blank pages daring her to confront the storm of emotions churning inside her. She gripped the pen tightly, her thoughts pouring out in jagged lines across the paper.

"Why does chasing your dreams have to hurt so much? Why does following your heart mean breaking someone else's? I hate that this is so hard-for them, for me. But deep down, I know I can't let this stop me. I have to keep going. I just wish it didn't feel like I was losing a part of myself in the process."*

The sound of footsteps outside her door made her pause. Moments later, there was a soft knock, and her mother stepped in, a plate of food in her hands. Maria's heart clenched at the sight of her, her face etched with quiet worry.

**Elena:** (hesitantly) "You didn't come down for dinner. I thought you might be hungry."

Maria forced a smile and gestured toward the desk.

**Maria:** "Thanks, Mom. I wasn't really hungry earlier."

Elena set the plate down carefully, then hesitated before sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her usual confidence replaced by uncertainty.

Elena:(quietly) "Maria... I don't want you to think I'm trying to hold you back. I'm not. I'm just-" (pauses, searching for the right words) "I'm scared. Scared of what it means to let you go."

Maria's throat tightened. She had been so caught up in her own fears that she hadn't truly considered the depth of her mother's.

Maria: (softly) "I know, Mom. And I'm scared too. This isn't easy for me either."

Elena looked at her with glistening eyes, the vulnerability in her expression making Maria's heart ache.

Elena: "Then why does it feel like you're running away? Like you're leaving us behind?"

Maria: (shaking her head, her voice steady) "I'm not running away. I'm running toward something. Something I've dreamed of for so long. Please try to see it that way."

Elena sat quietly, her gaze fixed on her hands. The silence between them stretched, heavy but not hostile. Finally, she let out a long breath and looked up.

Elena:"I'll try. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I'll try."

Maria reached out and covered her mother's hands with her own, a small gesture of connection amidst the tension. Elena gave her a faint smile before standing.

Elena: "Eat something before it gets cold. You'll need your strength for... everything ahead."

As the door closed softly behind her, Maria sat back down, staring at the plate of food without really seeing it. The conversation had left her feeling both relieved and drained. Her mother's tentative acceptance was a step forward, but it was clear the road ahead wouldn't be smooth.

---

Later, Maria retreated to her bed, her journal once again in her lap. She sat cross-legged, the dim light of her bedside lamp casting soft, flickering shadows. She stared at the blank page, her pen poised, but no words came. Every thought felt too tangled, every emotion too raw to put into words.

Maria:(thinking, frustrated) "What if I'm wrong? What if this doesn't work out, and I've hurt them for nothing?"

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking through her spiraling thoughts. It was a text from Alan. She hesitated before picking it up, her fingers trembling slightly.

Alan: "How's everything going? Did your parents come around?"

She stared at the screen, the warmth of his concern easing some of the tension in her chest. After a moment, she began typing back.

Maria: "They did... sort of. It's still tense here. They're trying to accept it, but I can tell they're struggling."

His reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting.

Alan:"Hang in there. It'll get better. And remember, this is for you. You deserve to chase your dreams, Maria."

A small smile tugged at her lips as she read his words. For the first time that day, she felt a glimmer of reassurance. Setting the phone down, she glanced around her room, taking in the familiar details-the shelves crammed with books, the photos on her desk, the quilt her mother had stitched for her years ago.

Leaving this behind would be harder than she had anticipated. But Alan was right. This wasn't about running away-it was about running toward something she had worked so hard to achieve.

With that thought in mind, Maria returned to her journal. Her pen moved steadily this time, the words flowing like a balm for her troubled heart.

"Dreams aren't easy, and neither is letting go. But maybe that's the point-because the things that matter most are the ones worth fighting for. And this dream? It's worth it."

She closed the journal with a deep breath, a flicker of hope rekindled in her chest.