Elara's phone felt hot in her hand, buzzing with the unspoken anger she'd just poured into her message to Kael. She tossed it onto her bed and threw herself onto her desk chair, burying her face in her hands. The exhilarating high of the test shoots had crashed down, leaving her in a familiar, suffocating valley of helplessness. What's the point of these "threads" if someone else just cuts them?! The question echoed in her mind, a desperate plea for an answer she wasn't sure even Kael could give.
Minutes stretched, thick with her frustration. She didn't expect an immediate reply; Kael always seemed to sense her mood and respond with careful thought. But the silence now felt heavier, mirroring the weight on her chest.
When her phone finally vibrated again, she snatched it up, her heart pounding.
Kael_Writes: No thread is ever truly cut, Elara. Not if it's meant to be. Sometimes, they just get tangled. Or they lead to a different path you couldn't see before.
Elara frowned. Tangled? Different path? She wanted a magic fix, not riddles.
Elara_Dreams: It felt cut, Kael. Like she just took scissors to it. This boutique job, it was a small chance. And she just stomped on it.
Kael_Writes: A single thread can seem small, yes. But it's part of a larger design. Think of it: if that path closed, what does it mean about the path that just opened? The art college. The "unique presence" they saw in you. That wasn't just a flicker, Elara. That was a flame.
He had a point. The art college was a much bigger opportunity, a much closer match to her true dreams. The boutique had been a safer, more distant "what if." Still, the sting of her mother's control, the casual dismissal of her dreams, was hard to shake.
Elara_Dreams: But she always does this. She tells me what's practical, what's sensible. My dreams are never practical to them. They just want me to be someone I'm not.
Kael_Writes: They act from their love, Elara, even if it feels like a cage. They see the dangers, the difficulties. They try to guide you to what they believe is safe. But true safety isn't found in a path others choose for you. It's found in knowing yourself and walking your own path with courage.
His words were gentle but firm. He wasn't taking her side against her parents, but he was validating her right to choose.
Kael_Writes: And perhaps, the thread you thought was cut, will simply loop back around later, stronger, because you chose the path that truly calls to you now. Every decision, every choice, untangles some threads and weaves new ones.
Elara stared at the last message. Untangles some threads and weaves new ones. It was a comforting thought, a way to see her mother's interference not as an ending, but a redirection. Maybe closing one small door had actually made her focus more on the bigger, more exciting one that had just opened.
She felt a flicker of resolve. She couldn't control her parents' actions, but she could control her own. She could choose which threads to follow. And the art college felt like a very strong thread indeed.
The next morning, Elara still woke with a touch of Monday dread, but it was lessened by Kael's words. She spent her college classes going through the motions, her mind half on the professors' lectures about market analysis, half on the sketches she'd made the night before. Her drawings of herself, of expressive faces and unconventional poses, felt more real than any of the statistics on the projector screen.
During a break, Chloe approached her, a half-eaten granola bar in her hand. "Hey, Elara. So, about those art college test shoots... how did they go?"
Elara felt a familiar tightness in her chest. Chloe's question felt less like genuine curiosity and more like a casual probe, ready to dismiss her if the news wasn't impressive enough. "They went well," Elara said, keeping her voice neutral. "Professor Sharma wants me to do some more."
Chloe's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh. Well, that's... good. For a hobby, I mean. Are you still coming to the study group tonight for our economics midterm? It's really important."
"I'll try," Elara said vaguely. The thought of another evening dissecting economic models, pretending to care with people who didn't care about her dreams, felt exhausting.
"Just 'try'?" Maya, who had walked up behind Chloe, chimed in. "Elara, you need to focus. That art thing isn't going to get you a job. We're talking about real careers here."
Elara felt a familiar knot of anger. She looked at Maya, then at Chloe. They stood there, perfectly put together, their lives seemingly mapped out in neat, practical lines. They couldn't see the fire in her, the passion that burned for something outside their safe, planned world. They only saw the girl who wasn't quite fitting in.
"Maybe my idea of a 'real career' is different from yours," Elara said, her voice surprisingly steady. It wasn't loud, but it held a new firmness. "And if this 'art thing' helps me find it, then it's worth more than any grade."
Chloe and Maya exchanged another look, this one sharper, more clearly annoyed.
"Whatever, Elara," Maya said, waving a dismissive hand. "Just don't come crying to us when you're struggling. We're trying to help you."
They walked away, their voices already shifting to talk about something else. Elara watched them go, a pang of loneliness, but also a growing sense of relief. It hurt that they didn't understand, but for the first time, she hadn't let their words shrink her. She hadn't apologized. She had stood her ground, even if it was just by a few quiet words.
She pulled out her phone, opening her chat with Kael. She didn't type a message. Instead, she just read their last conversation, focusing on: Untangles some threads and weaves new ones.
She looked at her half-finished Marketing notes, then at the art college's website she still had open on her laptop. The choice was clear. The real work wasn't in proving herself to her parents or her so-called friends. It was in weaving her own tapestry, one bold, defiant thread at a time. And she realized, with a deep breath that felt like fresh air, that she didn't need their understanding. Not anymore. She had Kael. And she had herself. And that, she was beginning to understand, was enough.