When Arika was eight, her parents told her she could be anything she wanted to be. They claimed the most important thing was to find a job that would make her content. If she worked hard, she could be a doctor, a dentist, or a lawyer. When they saw none of them piqued their daughter’s interest, they dropped the issue. She was still a young child. There was still a decade left for them to find Arika the perfect career.

At thirteen, she told her parents she wanted to be an artist. Her latest painting placed first in the most recent art competition statewide. Though Arika didn’t win the national tournament, she was in the top ten.

However, her parents were less than thrilled, and they made a point to voice it at every possible opportunity. After all, the art industry was hard to break into, and it was unlikely Arika would be able to make a name for herself. Furthermore, she wouldn’t earn much money. They were worried.

Arika stood her ground at first. She claimed she didn’t mind if she was poor if she could paint. There was no use in being rich if she was unhappy.

Or at least, that was what she thought. Her parents argued otherwise. If she couldn’t earn money, the stress from bills would stress her out to the breaking point. And if she couldn’t take care of herself, how could she take care of them? The risk was too high, and the reward was too low. Both of her parents refused to let Arika tarnish her promising future for a mere hobby.

After that day, her parents stopped buying her art supplies. Their blatant rejection left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was the first time her parents denied her something. Even from a young age, Arika knew she was spoiled. There was almost nothing she couldn’t get her hands on. Or rather, there was nothing her parents wouldn’t buy for their precious little girl. And when their little girl wanted something, they made sure she got the best of the best. After all, what would people think of them if they settled for an old Ford when they could buy a brand-new Audi?

She could have everything money could buy. She knew she was lucky to have parents like hers who would buy anything for her.

Until now, at least.

By the end of the third month, Anika threw away all of her remaining art supplies.

Fool, she thought to herself.

A fool for her unrealistic dreams.

A fool for wanting to pursue an unstable career.

A fool for picking up a paintbrush in the first place.

⋆⋆⋆

She had just turned twenty-one when her parents told her they set up an arranged marriage for her. They informed her he was only six years older than her and was in his last semester of medical school. They noticed Arika never brought a man home, which concerned them.

Without thinking, she rejected the idea with a scoff. It infuriated both of her parents. Their voices clambered over one another as they screamed insults at her over the phone. Each one pierced deeper than the last, leaving Arika in a flood of tears.

She wasn’t purposely saying no just to spite them. Arika couldn’t imagine herself loving someone romantically. And it wasn’t that she was heartless or that she hadn’t met the right person yet. Romance simply wasn’t meant for her.

In an icy calmness she didn’t feel, she told her parents she would drop out of medical school if they forced the marriage upon her. The line fell silent, and for a moment, Arika thought she won. But before she could celebrate, her parents issued her an ultimatum: marry within a year without divorcing and finish medical school, or she would be cut off from the inheritance. She may be their little girl, but she wasn’t the only child in the family.

She flung her phone across the room in a fit of anger. It landed on the floor in a resounding thud. Arika didn’t want to marry anyone, much less a man she never met before. She didn’t even want to be a medical professional! But without them, her inheritance worth several million would be gone. Her parents were always true to their words.

Her roommate and best friend came running in, concerned by the loud noise. Taking one glance at Arika’s teary eyes, she disappeared before coming back with a canvas, paint, and paintbrushes. With a bashful smile, she explained that she remembered how Arika loved to paint when they were in middle school.

Love…

Staring at the canvas, Arika imagined what she would paint on it. It wouldn’t be pretty, she knew. Her skills had become rusty over these past seven years. But maybe, that would be just what she needed — a painting, hesitant and flawed — just like her.

She wouldn’t marry; she was sure of that. And if Arika was being honest, she didn’t think medical school was for her. It was just something she thought she had to do to win her parents’ love and affection. Her multi-million dollar inheritance may be gone now, but perhaps she didn’t need a penny in her name if it was her parents’ penny.

Fool, she thought to herself.

A fool for giving up her dreams.

A fool for wanting to pursue her parents’ approval.

A fool for putting down the paintbrush in the first place.