Chapter 9- A new beginning

It had been months since I posted that first song. The feedback I received had transformed my world. I wasn't just Amara anymore—the girl who defied her family's expectations. I was Amara, the rising star.

Little by little, people started to notice. First, it was the local community: friends of friends, cousins, neighbors—people who had known me my whole life and suddenly saw something in me. My name began to circulate online, and soon after, I had offers to perform at small events, local gigs, and even collaborations with other aspiring musicians.

My phone buzzed constantly with messages. People were reaching out to me for interviews, record deals, and music projects. It was everything I'd dreamed of, and yet, I still found myself holding my breath when I walked into my house at the end of each day.

My mother had barely spoken to me since the talent show. The coldness had been suffocating, but lately, she had been watching me from the kitchen or doorway, an expression I couldn't quite place on her face.

One evening, I came home after performing at a small gathering to find my parents sitting together in the living room. The air was thick with anticipation, as if something had been brewing beneath the surface for weeks.

"Amara," my father began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Come, sit down. We need to talk."

I hesitated but walked over to the couch, sitting across from them. My heart raced. Was this another lecture? Another one of those talks about responsibility and discipline?

"We've been thinking," my mother said, her voice softer than usual. "We've been watching you—watching how much you've put into your music, how hard you've worked despite all the things we've said to you." She looked at my father for a moment, and he nodded.

"Your mother and I have decided that we're willing to support your dream," my father said, his voice steady but not without emotion. "We can't pretend we understand it fully, but we see how serious you are. And we want to help."

I blinked, unable to process his words at first. "What do you mean?"

"We'll sponsor your first music video," my mother said, her eyes searching mine. "If you agree to pursue some kind of formal training. A certificate in music, at least. Not just for us, but for you. We want you to have a foundation."

It took a moment for it to sink in. The support I had fought so hard for, the approval I had longed to receive from the people I loved most—it was here. My mother, my father—both of them, offering me the chance to make this dream real.

"But a certificate?" I asked, my voice wavering. "Do you mean… school?"

"Yes," my father replied. "A year or two. Just enough to learn the basics. It will help you understand what you're doing, Amara. You'll be better prepared for the road ahead."

I could feel the weight of their offer pressing down on me. On one hand, I had the music industry at my fingertips, the recognition and success I had worked for. On the other hand, there was this—an opportunity to learn the craft I loved from a different perspective. To truly understand the technical side of music.

I looked at my parents, who had both put so much of their lives into providing for me. They weren't giving me a choice, not really. But they were offering a compromise—a way for me to chase my dream and still honor their wishes.

"Okay," I said, the word tasting foreign on my tongue. "I'll do it. I'll get the certificate. And I'll make this video."

My parents' faces softened, their approval evident. My mother reached across the table and took my hand. "We're proud of you, Amara. We just want you to have something to fall back on. We know you have the talent. But the world is unpredictable."

For the first time in a long while, I felt a rush of gratitude. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but at least now, I had the support I needed. They didn't fully understand me, but they were trying, and that meant the world to me.