But as Lily’s success continued to grow, so did the pressure. The long hours, the expectations, the need to constantly prove herself—it all started to take its toll. I noticed it in the way her shoulders hunched, the dark circles under her eyes, and the way her smile seemed to fade just a little when she spoke about her work.
I tried to remind her, over and over again, that she didn’t have to do it all. That it was okay to take a break, to rest. But she didn’t listen. She pushed herself harder, harder than I had ever seen anyone push before. She wanted to be the best, and I couldn’t blame her for that.
One evening, after another late night of stitching and sketching, Lily collapsed onto the couch, her body exhausted but still restless. She sat up, running her hands through her hair, and stared at the sketches she had been working on for hours. It was clear that something inside her had shifted, that the weight of her ambitions had begun to feel heavier than ever.
“Mom,” she said quietly, her voice cracking just slightly, “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”