One evening, after Lily had finished another long day at the design studio, we sat on the couch together, quietly. The house was still, the hum of the sewing machine from the other room now a distant memory. Lily had been working on a new collection for the past few weeks, and I could see how tired she was. Her eyes were red-rimmed from long hours, and her shoulders were hunched from the weight of everything she was carrying.
“How are you really doing, sweetie?” I asked, my voice soft, but filled with concern. “I know you’ve been pushing yourself, but you need to take care of yourself too.”
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stared ahead, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. I knew her too well. I could see the hesitation in her eyes—the same hesitation that had always been there when she didn’t want to admit that something was wrong.
“I’m okay, Mom,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “I just… I don’t know if I can keep up with it all. Everyone wants something from me. And I don’t know how to say no.”