Morning came with its usual stillness, broken only by the sound of rain tapping softly against the roof. I made my way downstairs, the aroma of fried rice meeting me halfway.
Grandma greeted me with her gentle smile as she arranged dishes on the table. Grandpa sat at his usual spot, stirring his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he noticed me.
"Good morning, Taryn. You're up early," he said, his voice warm but teasing.
"I've got practice," I replied, sliding into my seat.
"Practice, huh?" Grandpa leaned back, eyeing me playfully. "How's the track treating you? Bringing home more medals?"
I nodded, managing a small smile. But before the conversation could continue, Grandma pulled out her tablet.
"Let's check in with your siblings," she said, already opening the video call app using LineConnect.
The screen flickered to life, splitting into two as Jia's and Devon's faces appeared on separate calls.
Jia, as always, looked poised and professional, her background a pristine study setup complete with bookshelves and certificates. In contrast, Devon's video was shaky, his cluttered workspace at the shop visible behind him.
"Morning, family," Jia greeted brightly. Her voice carried the familiar tone of someone who had it all together.
"Jia!" Grandpa beamed. "How's university treating you?"
"It's been amazing," she replied. "I just finished presenting my renewable energy project to the faculty, and they loved it. Plus, I've been nominated for another leadership award."
Grandma clapped her hands together, her pride unmistakable. "That's my girl! Always making us so proud."
I stirred my rice silently, willing myself to disappear as the conversation revolved around Jia's endless list of achievements.
"Have you started thinking about college yet, Taryn?" Jia asked, her tone polite but pointed.
"You should be aiming for top universities. Academics matter, you know."
I swallowed hard, the knot in my chest tightening.
"I'm working on it," I mumbled, though the words felt empty.
Switching over to Devon's call, Grandpa chuckled. "And how's my grandson? Keeping the family business alive?"
Devon grinned, holding up a wrench. "You bet. Dad's been letting me handle more responsibilities lately. Yesterday, I fixed the shop's generator all by myself."
"That's wonderful, Devon," Grandma said, her voice warm with pride. "You're growing up so fast."
Devon's gaze shifted toward the camera, his smirk widening. "Hey, Taryn, you still running in circles? I hope you've figured out how to make that useful."
I clenched my fists under the table, forcing a neutral expression. "It's not just running," I said quietly. "It's about hard work, discipline—"
"Sure, sure," Devon interrupted with a laugh. "But you know colleges want grades, not trophies."
Grandpa chuckled along, but his laughter only made the weight in my chest grow heavier.
Track practice was supposed to be my escape, the place where I could leave behind the noise of comparisons and expectations.
But today, even the steady rhythm of my footfalls couldn't drown out Jia's and Devon's voices echoing in my mind.
Coach Ling clapped his hands, pulling us into a circle.
"Alright, team! Two weeks until the district qualifiers. You've all been putting in the work, but now's the time to push harder. Let's see 110% out there!"
The team scattered across the track, their energy palpable. I joined the drills, forcing myself to match their intensity, but my legs felt sluggish, my mind weighed down by doubts.
"Taryn!" Coach called out as I lagged behind. "What's going on? You're faster than this. Don't let distractions hold you back."
"I'm fine," I lied, pushing harder, even as my chest tightened.
After practice, Coach pulled me aside, his expression softening. "You've got talent, Taryn. But you need to believe in yourself. Forget what anyone else thinks. Out here, it's just you and the finish line."
His words struck a chord, but the doubts remained.
Could I really chase my dreams when everyone around me seemed to think they were meaningless?
That evening, I returned home to find Grandma and Grandpa chatting with Jia on another video call.
Devon joined in shortly after, his boisterous laughter filling the room as he recounted another story from the shop.
"Taryn," Grandma called, waving me over. "Come say hi!"
Reluctantly, I sat down, forcing a smile as Jia asked about my college plans and Devon teased me about my running.
Their words blended together, each one a reminder of how far I still had to go.
"Devon's been so responsible lately," Grandpa said. "And Jia's always been a star. Taryn, we're excited to see what you'll accomplish next."
I nodded, excusing myself as soon as I could.
Upstairs, I sat at my desk, pulling out the gold medal from my last race. Its gleaming surface caught the light, but instead of pride, all I felt was emptiness.
I turned the medal over in my hands, tracing my finger along the engraved letters: First Place – Regional Track Meet. My coach had beamed as he placed it around my neck.
The crowd had cheered, my teammates had lifted me on their shoulders, and for a fleeting moment, I had felt untouchable. But that moment faded the instant I got home, where the weight of my parents' expectations loomed larger than any victory.
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drifting toward the shelf above my desk. It was crammed with trophies, medals, and certificates—each one a testament to years of relentless effort.
They stood there, silent witnesses to my struggle, gleaming under the warm glow of the lamp. And yet, they seemed almost accusatory now, as if questioning why they hadn't been enough to make my parents see me for who I was, instead of who they wanted me to be.
The faint buzz of my phone broke the silence. I picked it up to see a message from Baihe : "Don't forget practice tomorrow. Districts are coming up—you've got this!"
I stared at her words, willing myself to believe them. But a part of me couldn't help but wonder: Do I really have this? Does any of it even matter?
I glanced at the photo propped up on my nightstand. It was an old picture, taken years ago, back when things felt simpler. In it, I was beaming, clutching my first-ever track trophy. My parents were behind me, smiling, their arms draped around my shoulders.
I remembered that day vividly—how proud they had seemed, how their praise had fueled my determination to keep going. But somewhere along the way, that pride had shifted.
The smiles became rarer, the praise more conditional. As I got older, the things that once brought me joy became the very things that drove a wedge between us.
I sighed and set the medal down on the desk, the clink of metal against wood echoing in the quiet room. My eyes drifted to the stack of unopened textbooks beside it—each one a reminder of the path my parents wanted me to take. A path that felt so far removed from the track I'd chosen for myself.