Chapter 6: Breaking the silence

The table was set, as it always was, with neat precision—her mother's careful touch in every detail. The placemats, the silverware, the glass of water next to her plate—it all looked perfect. But the silence between them, thick and suffocating, was the real centerpiece of the evening.

Lily had tried to ignore it, to eat her meal like everything was fine, like they hadn't spent the entire morning avoiding each other's gaze. Her mother's refusal to speak to her after that quiet breakfast—where only the sound of clinking plates and the ticking clock filled the space between them—had set the tone for the entire day. Lily's chest tightened with every minute that passed, each one thickening the air between them. The tension was palpable, almost as if the room itself was holding its breath.

She looked down at her plate, her fork hovering over her food, the bite she'd taken moments ago now sitting uneaten. She had always prided herself on keeping the peace, on doing what was expected of her, but today felt different. The silence was eating at her. She couldn't do it anymore.

Her mother, sitting across from her, finally broke the stillness, though her voice was cold. "You're not going to eat, Lily?"

Lily's s hand tightened around her fork, the tension almost unbearable. She felt the heat of the words bubbling up, the ones she had been holding back all morning, all week, maybe even for years. This wasn't just about dinner, about the fact that her mother had barely acknowledged her this morning—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between them. The expectations. The control. The unspoken pressure.

She took a breath, her chest rising with determination. "Mom," she began, her voice softer than she meant it to be, but it carried an edge she couldn't hide. "We need to talk."

Her mother set down her glass, eyes narrowing. "About what?"

Lily's pulse raced as she forced herself to make eye contact, her hands shaking slightly. The silence between them felt so heavy now, each second a weight pushing down on her. "About everything. About how you've been treating me, about how I'm living my life. I can't keep doing this, trying to be who you want me to be."

Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in her jaw tightening. "What are you talking about? I've done everything for you, Lily, Everything you have, everything you've been given, has been because of what I've worked for."

Lily felt her throat constrict, but the words came anyway. "And I've spent my whole life trying to live up to what you wanted, not what I wanted. You've made all the decisions for me, told me what was best for me, what I should do with my life. I've spent years just trying to meet your expectations."

Her mother's eyes widened, her face paling as though she hadn't expected such words. But Lily couldn't stop now. The fracture inside her had finally cracked wide open.

"Every time I wanted to do something different, something that was mine, you shut me down. Every time I tried to make a choice for myself, you told me I didn't know what I was doing. You never let me be me."

The silence hung between them for a moment, thick and suffocating, before her mother's voice broke through, trembling with barely contained anger. "Is this what you really want, Lily? To throw everything away? Everything I've worked for? You think it's that simple?"

Lily felt a hot rush of emotion flood her chest, and she swallowed hard to keep her composure. "It's not about throwing everything away. It's about choosing myself for once. I've been so focused on living for you, I lost who I am. And I'm done with that. I'm done."

Her mother's eyes glinted with hurt, her voice quiet and sharp. "You think it's easy for me, to see you reject everything I've worked for? You think I wanted to control your life?"

Lily's throat tightened, but she forced the words out, her voice firm despite the fear knotting in her stomach. "I'm not rejecting you. I'm rejecting the version of me that you created. I can't keep being someone I'm not just to make you happy."

Her mother sat back in her chair, the color draining from her face as the weight of Lily words sank in. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn't come. For a moment, they both just stared at each other, the years of unspoken frustrations and hurt filling the space between them.

Lily stood up suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I can't do this anymore," she said, her voice breaking through the silence that had held them captive for so long. "I'm choosing my own path. I need to live for myself, not for you."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the room. She didn't look back, her heart hammering in her chest as the door closed behind her. It wasn't over, not by a long shot. But the words had been said. And now, she could breathe again.

The night was cool, the stars barely visible through the haze of city lights, as Lily made her way to the park. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a message from Amy.

Amy : Meet me at the park? I need to see you.

Lily's s fingers hesitated over the screen, her chest still tight with the fallout of her conversation with her mother. She wasn't sure if she was ready to talk about it yet, but Amy had always been her safe place—the one person who had never judged her, never tried to push her into being someone she wasn't.

Lily: I'm on my way.

When Lily arrived at the park, she spotted Amy immediately, sitting on the swings and staring up at the sky. As usual, Amy was calm, serene, like the world had no real hold over her. She hadn't known how much Lily needed that kind of presence until recently.

Lily turned as Lily approached, offering a soft, understanding smile. "Hey," she greeted, standing up and walking over to Lily. "You look like you've had a day."

Lily laughed dryly, trying to shake off the weight of the dinner table conversation. "That's an understatement."

Amy didn't push her for more, but there was something in her eyes that said she wasn't going to let Lily walk through this alone. "Come sit with me."

They both made their way back to the swings, where Amy sat first and patted the seat next to her. Lily sat down, feeling the cool metal beneath her hands. The gentle squeak of the chains was the only sound between them for a moment, but then Amy spoke, her tone gentle but firm.

"So, what happened? What's going on?"

Lily exhaled slowly, the air leaving her lungs in a rush. "I told my mom. Everything. I told her I can't live my life trying to meet her expectations. I have to choose what I want for once."

Amy nodded, her expression unreadable. "And?"

Lily ran a hand through her hair, frustration bubbling up again. "She didn't take it well. She said I was throwing everything away. She doesn't understand. And I—I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing. But I can't keep living for her. I just... can't."

Amy was quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm but full of conviction. "Lily, I don't think you're throwing anything away. You're choosing yourself. That's not easy. I get it. But I also know that this is your life. Not hers. You're allowed to make choices for yourself."

Lily looked over at her best friend, her heart heavy with uncertainty. "What if I'm wrong?"

Amy smiled softly, offering a reassuring hand. "Then we'll figure it out. Together. You're not alone in this."

Lily felt the lump in her throat rise, but she swallowed it down. The weight she had been carrying, the suffocating pressure of expectations, seemed a little lighter now. Amy was right. She wasn't alone.

"I just want to live my life," Lily said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "For myself."

Amy nodded, standing up and offering a hand to Lily. "Then let's take it one step at a time. You don't have to have it all figured out. But you're choosing yourself now, and that's everything."

Lily took her friend's hand, feeling a small spark of hope amidst the uncertainty. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she was drowning. There was a path ahead of her—one she was choosing for herself.

And that was enough.