Episode 2

Five years.

One hundred and eighty-two Sundays staring at the same wall, trying to understand how life could change so much from one moment to the next.

When I left Daniel that night, my world collapsed along with his. He just didn't know that, while I left him standing in the middle of the road, I myself was crumbling inside.

Throughout all these years, the pain never completely left me. But I didn't have the luxury of allowing myself to falter.

My mother needed me. She still does.

The cancer, silent and cruel, gave no truce.

After the first surgery, came the endless treatments, the ups and downs, the moments of hope mixed with fear. The medical bills piled up like bricks building an insurmountable wall.

The money I received from Daniel's mother, although tainted with guilt, saved her life at that time. And I carried the weight of every penny alone.

I found myself forced to give up dreams, stability, even dignity at certain moments.

I worked as a salesperson, coffee shop attendant, department store assistant... all to pay for the clinic where my mother still fights with a strength that inspires me and breaks me in half every day.

But in the midst of this chaos, a part of me refused to die.

The love for drawing had always been with me, since I was little, when I scribbled school notebooks with rings, earrings and necklaces that I invented. It was my refuge. My secret hiding place when the world outside seemed too big.

Over time — in the few free hours I had between jobs — I started to study.

I took free online jewelry design courses, watched videos, read books borrowed from public libraries. I trained late into the night, falling asleep over unfinished sketches.

And so it was, in the midst of exhausting nights and days, that I became a jewelry designer.

Nothing renowned, nothing that would put me in the showcases of fame. But enough to be proud of each line traced, of each metal imagined, of each stone carved on paper.

When I felt I was ready, I carefully assembled my portfolio. I chose the best drawings, created simple presentations, but made with passion. And I started sending resumes. One by one. Company by company. City by city.

Most of the time, I didn't even receive a response. In others, a brief and polished "we appreciate your interest, but at the moment we have chosen another candidate".

Hope became small, fragile, like a flame threatened by the wind. But I kept trying. Because, if there was one thing I had learned in these years, it was that giving up would never be an option.

Until, one afternoon, while I was finishing feeding my mother in the clinic room, the phone rang. I picked up the device with one hand, balancing everything with difficulty.

"Hello?"

"Miss Dupont?" the voice was firm, professional.

"Yes, it's me."

"I'm calling from Moreau's Jewels. We inform you that your resume has been selected for a special project. Your presence is required at the main headquarters tomorrow at nine o'clock. More details will be provided by your email."

I was silent for a few seconds, trying to absorb those words. Moreau's Jewels. One of the largest jewelry companies in the world.

I almost dropped the phone.

I managed to stammer a "thank you very much" and hung up with a trembling hand.

I sat on the edge of my mother's bed, the phone still pressed against my chest.

"We did it, Mom," I whispered, my eyes tearing up. "We did it..."

She smiled weakly at me, with that tired but proud look that made me want to conquer the whole world.

...🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸...

Now, sitting at the small makeshift table in my apartment — a simple studio, with peeling walls and a constant smell of mold —, I was working on the three wedding ring models that the company requested by email.

Three. Three opportunities to show what I was capable of.

I spread my pencils, papers and samples around.

I looked at the blank sheet and tried to imagine the story of those who would wear those rings.

They said they were for the company's CEO.

An important wedding. An eternal symbol.

I wanted my pieces to carry more than beauty. I wanted them to have a soul.

I designed the first ring thinking about strength. Striking, bold lines, with geometric details engraved in white gold.

It was a ring that said: "We are strong together. We are unbreakable."

The second, more delicate, I designed for love. Rose gold, subtle details of small diamonds cut like raindrops around the piece.

I wanted it to whisper promises in silence. To represent the tenderness hidden under the harshness of life.

The third... The third I made for eternity.

A ring of pure platinum, simple and at the same time imposing. No stones, no exaggerated shine. Just the purity of the perfect, eternal metal.

While drawing the last lines, I felt something strange in my chest. As if, somehow, each of those rings also carried the story I never lived. The story I dreamed of one day. Of marrying Daniel, of building a life alongside him, of being happy without fear. But dreams, like jewels, require sacrifices to be carved. And mine fell apart before it even started.

I looked at the clock. It was past midnight. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the silence of the room envelop me.

Tomorrow I would deliver those drawings.

Tomorrow, a new chance would open.

Tomorrow, who knows, life would start to change.

I didn't know who the CEO who would get married was.

I didn't know who I was designing for. But I knew that, this time, I wasn't going to fail.

I picked up the finished sketches, reviewed each stroke with attentive eyes. My heart was beating fast, mixing anxiety, fear and hope. I carefully stored everything in the black folder, put the material inside the backpack and got up.

I walked to the small framed photo of my mother smiling, still young and full of life, and kissed the image.

"For you, Mom. Always."

I turned off the light in the room, taking a deep breath before lying down.

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