At a design competition, I was mocked for my age and humiliated in front of everyone. Less than 24 hours later, the same woman who belittled me walked into my home—as my son’s fiancée.I had always believed that my time had passed. The design had been my dream, but life quickly set its priorities: first, my husband, then my child, the house, and the responsibilities.And finally, at sixty, I suddenly felt I could still create.I received an email confirming that my project had made it to the finals of a prestigious design competition. I cried. Out of joy. Out of fear. Out of everything that meant.
That wasn’t just any project. It was a piece of my and Daniel’s history.I started working on this concept when he was just a little boy. He loved drawing flowers and gifted me those drawings with pride, and I kept them, thinking that one day, I would use them in my work.And after all those years, they had become the foundation of my first serious design project. I had transformed those childhood patterns into sophisticated motifs, merging them with modern trends.
I wanted to surprise Daniel while getting the position and the permission to bring the idea to life. I told him about the competition over dinner. He put his fork down and looked at me intently.”Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?””Because you’ve always been afraid of change.”He’s right. I am afraid. Afraid that it’s too late. But if I don’t try now, I never will.He smiled and tilted his head mischievously.”Then you need the perfect outfit.”I sighed.
We agreed to go together. It was one of those rare moments when the future felt bright and full of possibilities.We both had big plans and big events ahead. And I had no idea that that bright day would soon be overshadowed by bitter disappointment.A few days later, I entered the spacious, modern office where the final stage of the competition was taking place. A wave of nervousness washed over me, but I held my head high. I had a great project.
I believed in it.I noticed the other contestants were young, stylish, and confident. Some participants didn’t even bother to hide their surprise at seeing me there. A girl with short pink hair glanced at me from head to toe and smirked.
