The echo of camera shutters clicked in her mind, but all Eurika felt was the heavy stillness of the room, where mere days ago laughter and excitement had thrummed in the air. Now, as she sat cross-legged on her bed, her portfolio sprawled messily across the quilt, the vibrant colors of her photographs seemed to mock her. The sun streamed through her window, illuminating the scattered prints, but it all felt dim, colorless. The sound of her parents' footsteps, crisp against the wooden floor outside, grew louder, each echo amplifying her anxiety.
Eurika's heart sank as she overheard her mother's voice, strained with disappointment. "I expected more... What's this?" The edge in her tone pierced through Eurika, making her stomach churn. She recognized the tone, that critical edge that had haunted her since childhood—lofty expectations judged against unattainable standards.
With a sigh, she gathered the courage to step into the living room. Her parents sat at the table, a pile of her photographs in front of them, their faces set in expressions of discontent as if they were poring over bank statements rather than snapshots of her soul. She felt the same familiar tightening in her chest—a sense of futility and dread, knowing all too well what would come next.
"Eurika, we need to talk," her father said, his brow furrowed in a way that made her heart race.
"You remember this photo?" Her mother pointed to a particular image—the shot taken on a rainy day at the old town square, droplets collecting on the blurring edge of a colorful umbrella. She had thought it captured a moment's beauty, the essence of life's fleeting joy.
"Yes, it's—" She faltered, starting to defend it, but her mother interrupted her, the words flowing like a torrent.
"It's out of focus. Why didn't you see it? This isn't art, Eurika; it's careless! We thought you had a real gift, something to show people. But this... this isn't what we hoped for! You need to be better. You must decide what you want!"
Each sharp word felt like a knife plunged into her aspirations, twisting deeper with every syllable. A sense of hopelessness washed over her, and with it came a fierce despair, tightening around her like a body of water engulfing a stone.
"I'm trying!" she exclaimed, her voice unwittingly rising, mixing anger with desperation, her pulse racing. "It's just... it's different for me! I thought—"
Her mother raised a hand, silencing her. "You know how much this competition means. It's your future. We invested so much in your training, in your education! You need to succeed. Don't you want that?"
"Not like this!" Eurika's voice cracked, the weight of expectation suffocating her. "You don't understand! It isn't just about winning; it's about expressing myself."
Her father leaned back, a frown casting shadows on his face. His disappointment resonated through the air like an oppressive fog. For a moment, the conversation hung heavily between them, only the sound of her parents shifting in their chairs broke the silence.
"This is the path we chose for you. You wanted to be a photographer, didn't you? Then start acting like one. This is your chance to make us proud," he said, the heat of his words contrasting sharply with the chill that had settled in her heart.
With every word thrown her way, she felt herself shrink—a flickering flame battling against a gust of wind. Her dreams now felt trivial, her photographs merely shadows of what her parents wanted them to be. With a tremor in her voice, she whispered, "Maybe I don't want to be what you want…"
The words slipped from her lips unbidden, like a confession. It felt both liberating and terrifying—against a backdrop of hurt, she had unleashed the truth.
Her mother's eyes widened, disbelief flickering over her face. "What do you mean?"
But before Eurika could answer, her heart was drowning in frustration, her mind spiraling into darkness. A familiar figure flashed through her thoughts—Toyum. How he had smiled at her in the corridor just before the competition, his encouragement like light spilling through cracks in the gloom. "You can do this, Eurika. Just be yourself," he had said. Yet, at that moment, amidst her parents' criticism and the sudden torrent of confusion, she felt anger toward him build slowly within.
"This is all so ridiculous!" she spat, hating the tears threatening to spill as she spun on her heel. "Maybe if Toyum hadn't distracted me, I would have taken better photos!"
The words hung heavy in the air, laden with venom.
Her parents exchanged quizzical glances, surprised by her outburst, but she felt the guilt wash over her swiftly, only to be replaced by a sharp resentment. She strode toward her room, tears blurring her vision, her heart banging against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape.
Slamming her bedroom door, she sank against the wood, every breath leaving her labored as she fought against the storm of emotions. The world outside continued, indifferent to her mortification. Fumbling blindly, she wiped at her cheeks and paced around her room, looking at her photographs—snippets of joy, color, and hope that now seemed graveyards of lost dreams.
Hours passed, or maybe minutes; time had lost meaning within the swirl of her thoughts. She felt heavy, burdened by a weight she couldn't articulate. Every corner of her room seemed to whisper that she had failed—not just her parents' expectations but herself as well.
As dusk transformed her room into muted shades of blue, Eurika fell into the darkness behind her eyes. She flopped onto her bed, curling up with her thoughts souring like milk left on the counter too long. Each image in her collection filled her with molten resentment, painfully dictating her perception of self-worth.
Toyum... his voice, once reassuring, turned taunting. "Just be yourself, Eurika," she mocked under her breath. Couldn't he see the mess she had become? He wouldn't know the pressures she faced, the nagging self-doubt that clawed at her insides like feral animals.
She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them, seeking asylum in the darkness of her mind. With them hiding there, she'd replace the light that shone brightly before—the spirit of life she once enveloped herself in when she clicked her camera's shutter.
The tranquil atmosphere had turned suffocatingly claustrophobic, and as the shadows lengthened, Eurika resolved to shut everything out. The world outside her window turned dark as evening claimed Agartala, lights twinkling in a sprawling cosmic void, but they evoked none of the familiar excitement. Lost in her cavern of despair, Eurika clung to her resentment and bitterness, letting the wave of hopelessness wash over her until the last threads of consciousness tattered away, leaving her to float through the cold embrace of sleep—untethered, untamed, and lost.
And yet, even in that despondent state, a small flicker of doubt nagged at her, whispering that maybe it was time for change, a moment for rebirth—even a moment to forgive.