POV: Elara Vivienne Blackwood

Flowers. Art. Traveling. Music—
"Complete your math homework, Elara."
"Yes, Mum," I replied, rolling my eyes.
"Remember, first position. Nothing less."
"Yes, Mum."
"What yes, Mum? Do it now."
"Yes, Mum."

Mum glared at me while hanging the clothes on the line.
"This girl," she muttered under her breath.

"When are we going to the lantern festival?" I asked, my voice brimming with excitement.

It was the first time our island was hosting a lantern festival. Everyone had been talking about it for weeks.

"We're not going," Mum said casually, as if it didn't matter.

My pen froze mid-sentence, and I stared blankly at my math homework.
"What?" I stood up, my excitement deflating like a punctured balloon.
"Dear, your studies are the priority."
"Mum!"
"What?"
"Mum, no. Please. I'll study extra hard. I really want to go!"
"End of discussion, Elara."

She walked out of the room, leaving me standing there in disbelief. I slumped back into my chair, frustration building inside me. Kicking the study table, I clenched my fists.

Why do I have to be perfect at everything I do?

The joy I'd been holding onto slipped through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but the sharp burn of disappointment in my throat. Blinking back tears, I forced myself to focus on Mechanics, though every number on the page blurred into nothingness.

"ELARA!"

I jolted awake, nearly falling off my chair. Where am I? Oh.

"I'm up, Mum!" I called out groggily.
"Good. Breakfast's ready."

I rubbed my neck, wincing at the sharp pain. Of course. The perks of sleeping on your study table even when you have a perfectly good bed.

Dragging myself upright, I piled my books neatly, tidying my desk before shuffling to the wardrobe.

"ELARA!"

I sighed heavily.
The door burst open.

"James, get out," I said as calmly as possible.

"Mum's mad. Hurry up, you lazy piece of—ow, Mum!"

"How dare you use that kind of language!" Mum snapped, pinching his ear.

"Elara, why are you still in your pajamas?" she demanded.

"I'll be ready in a minute," I said, pulling my wardrobe open.

"Maybe you could let go of my ear now?" James whispered pleadingly.

Mum gave him a death glare, and he bolted from the room the moment she released him.

James, my little brother, was three years younger than me and an absolute idiot.

I drifted into the kitchen, the aroma of toast and eggs greeting me. We lived in a small apartment—two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a cramped living room. It wasn't much, but it was all Mum could afford after Dad passed away.

James slept in the living room. He claimed he'd rather bunk with the neighbor's stinky dog than share a room with me. Honestly? It was a win-win.

I sat at the table and ate my breakfast without complaint. Mum wouldn't let us leave the house unless every crumb was cleared from our plates.

"Bye, Mum."
"Bye, honey—" Her words cut off abruptly. "JAMES!"

Oh no. Here we go again.

James came sprinting out of his room. I barely had time to grab my bag before he rushed past me. Instinctively, I followed, running down the stairs two at a time.

When we reached the street, James finally stopped, panting.
"What did you do this time?" I asked, hands on my knees.

He smirked, pulling a few crumpled bills from his pocket.
I groaned. "You stole money?"
"Borrowed," he corrected smugly.

"Get lost," I snapped, walking ahead.

"Suit yourself," he muttered, trailing off in another direction.

"Put your hands together for our first-place student, who managed to ace all her grades with straight A's—Elara Vivienne Blackwood!"

The principal's voice echoed across the auditorium.

As always, I trudged to the stage, a forced smile plastered on my face. Medal, certificate, handshake. The same routine every year.

"Congratulations," the principal said.
"Thank you," I replied automatically.

"YOU GO, SHIT!"

I froze. The familiar voice of my idiot brother rang loud and clear from the crowd.

"James," I muttered through gritted teeth, my smile never faltering.

I always wanted to be free. To paint, to draw, to lose myself in art. That was my passion.

But here I am. In this wicked world, tangled in a web of expectations and a mother's dream, studying Math.

Maybe they were right.

Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows.

[CONTINUE-->]