~{Chapter 14} Breakthrough~
I stared at the notification for a long moment before opening it.
Mother: I know you think I hate you. You do. And perhaps you're right to. When Jai died, I blamed you because it was easier than blaming myself. Easier than accepting that I'd failed to protect my son. That was wrong. You were a child too. And it wasn't your fault. I know that now. I've always known that. But knowing something and feeling it are different things. And I... I couldn't separate the two. Every time I looked at you, I saw him. Saw what I'd lost. This is not me asking you to forgive me. I don't deserve it. But I wanted you to know that I'm proud. Of what you've become. Of what you're building. And what you're aiming to become. Win this, Kamaya. Not for the company. Not for your father. For yourself.
I read it once.
The words didn't make sense.
They couldn't be real.
Then again.
Then a third time.
My vision blurred.
My chest tightened so hard I couldn't breathe.
Five years.
Five years of silence. Of coldness. Of her making me feel like I'd killed my own brother.
And now this.
Now when I'm at the point of breaking down.
The world around me started spinning. My hands started shaking.
The phone slipped from my fingers onto the seat.
I pressed my palm against my mouth, trying to hold it in, but I couldn't.
A sob tore through my chest, raw, gasping, desperate.
Then another.
And another.
My stomach lurched violently.
"Stop,"
I choked out.
"Stop the car, please—"
The driver's eyes shot to the rearview mirror.
"Miss?"
"Stop—now—"
He swerved to the curb. I barely got the door open before I was out, stumbling to the edge of the sidewalk.
I fell to my knees and threw up.
Everything I'd been holding in—the alcohol, the rejection, the pain, the years of silence, all came out in violent waves. I heard the cab door open.
Footsteps.
"Miss? Miss, are you okay?"
I couldn't answer. I could barely even breathe.
When there was nothing left, I stayed there on my hands and knees, shaking, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the cold sweat on my skin.
The pavement was rough beneath my palms. The night air was cold. Somewhere nearby, I could hear music from a bar, people laughing, life continuing like nothing was wrong.
The driver crouched beside me, keeping a respectful distance.
"You need a hospital?"
he asked gently.
I shook my head.
"Water? I have water."
I nodded.
He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a bottle. I took it with trembling hands and rinsed my mouth, spitting onto the pavement.
"Thank you,"
I whispered hoarsely.
"You sure you don't need a hospital?"
"I'm sure."
I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
"Just... too much to drink."
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue.
"Can you stand?"
I nodded and let him help me up.
My legs felt like boiled noodles. My head was spinning. But I made it back to the cab.
He handed me a plastic bag.
"Just in case."
"Thank you."
The rest of the drive was quiet except for my ragged breathing and the occasional sniffle I couldn't suppress.
The driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, concern etched on his face, but he didn't ask any more questions.
When we finally pulled up to my building, I paid him double what the meter said.
"You gonna be okay?"
he asked, concerned.
"Yeah," I lied. "I'll be fine."
"You should drink water. Lots of water. And eat something in the morning."
I nodded. "I will. Thank you."
"Alright then, take care of yourself, miss."
He drove off.
I stumbled into my building, past the security guard who looked alarmed but didn't say anything, and made it to the elevator.
My reflection in the mirrored walls was devastating. Makeup smeared. Eyes swollen. Hair disheveled.
I looked away.
When the elevator doors opened on my floor, I practically fell out, using the wall for support as I made my way to my condo.
I barely got the door closed before I collapsed against it, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest.
My phone was still in my hand.
I looked at my mother's message again.
I'm proud. Of what you've become.
And I broke down all over again.
Only this time, the tears came slower. Quieter. But somehow more painful.
I cried for—God knows how many hours—until there was nothing left.
When I finally stopped, the apartment was dark. I'd lost track of time completely.
My body felt heavy. Drained. Like I'd run a marathon and then been hit by a truck.
I pulled myself up slowly, every muscle protesting, and stumbled to the bathroom.
The lights were harsh. Piercing.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
My makeup was completely ruined, mascara streaked down my cheeks, lipstick smudged. My eyes were so swollen I could barely keep them open. My hair looked like I'd been through a windstorm.
I looked destroyed.
I felt destroyed.
I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face. Once. Twice. Three times.
The shock of it helped clear my head slightly.
I washed away the makeup. The tears. The evidence of my breakdown.
Then I brushed my teeth, trying to get rid of the sour taste in my mouth.
Changed into clean, soft pajamas that felt like a hug.
Drank water until my stomach settled and my head felt less like it was going to split open.
Then I went to my desk and opened my laptop.
The screen's glow was almost blinding in the darkness.
I pulled up my investor list.
Ten meetings.
Ten rejections.
But there were more names. More
possibilities.
I opened my presentation files and started making notes. Places where I could be clearer. Stronger. More convincing.
The designs were good. I knew they were good.
I just needed to find someone who could see what I saw.
Someone who understood that luxury wasn't just about playing it safe.
Someone who was willing to bet on vision over data. I worked until my eyes couldn't stay open anymore.
Until the words on the screen blurred together.
Until my head felt heavy and my body demanded rest.
When I finally closed my laptop, the sky outside my window was starting to lighten, the first hints of dawn painting the horizon pink and gold.
A new day.
A fresh start.
A chance to try again
And again.
And again.
Until someone believed.
I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
Tomorrow would come with its own challenges.
But today, I'd survived.
And that was enough.