The soft hum of the city melted into the quiet rhythm of Firdoze Shaik's heartbeat as she sat by the window of a small seaside café. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the salty breeze from the ocean, and in front of her, the elegant curves of a luxury yacht shimmered under the afternoon sun.
She wasn't here for the view.
She was here to escape. From the noise. From the doubts. From the weight of a dream too big for a girl from a middle-class family.
"What if I never make it?"
The thought whispered through her mind more often than she liked to admit.
Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup as she gazed at the yacht, imagining a future where her designs weren't just sketches in a worn-out notebook, but masterpieces walking down runways in Paris, Milan, and New York.
"One day, I'll have it all," she thought, her eyes filled with a quiet determination.
"Not for the world. Not for fame. But for me."
A soft giggle broke through her thoughts. Firdoze turned to see a little girl standing nearby, her eyes wide with wonder as she stared at the yacht.
"Appa, Amma... one day, I'll own a yacht like that and take you both on a ride!" the little girl declared, her tiny hands clenched into fists of determination.
Firdoze felt her heart tighten. She saw herself in that little girl—the same innocence, the same hunger for something more.
Before she could stop herself, she stood up and walked to the yacht.
"Take that family on a ride," she told the captain softly, handing him her card.
The family's joy-filled laughter echoed through the air as they thanked her again and again, but the little girl's words stayed with Firdoze.
"You're so beautiful and inspiring! One day, I want to be just like you... Please, tell me your story!"
Firdoze watched them leave, her heart full yet aching.
Later that night, she sank into the plush comfort of her luxurious mansion—far from the small, crowded home she grew up in. She scrolled aimlessly through her tablet until an ad caught her eye:
"WRITE YOUR OWN STORY ON WATTPAD."
She blinked. Once. Twice.
"Is this... a sign?"
Maybe the world needed to hear her story.
Maybe that little girl wasn't the only one who needed hope.
Firdoze closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered to herself,
"Let's begin from the start..."
---