Part 7

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  The competition was a week ago. I lost. The other finalist had produced a better dish and deserved to win.

However, I was proud of myself. If my father was alive, he would’ve been proud too.

I had defied all stereotypes and finally redeemed my true skills. I didn’t get the money to run a restaurant, but I had another plan in mind. I was not going to give up easily.

“Sir, I would really like a loan from the bank to own a restaurant. You know, it has always been a dream of mine and-” I said to the banker on the other end of the phone.

“O-of course! You’re Emily Brown, a finalist of The Next Top Chef. When will you come by to take the cash?” the banker said, seeming to have been delighted to talk to me.

I smiled, realizing that I wasn’t just a blind girl anymore. I was now officially Emily Brown, the girl that took courage to the next level.

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