CHRYSANTHEMUM

CHAPTER 4

‎A BOLD STEP

‎"Bang, bang, bang! Hepzibah, I'm hungryyyy!"

‎There came a loud knock at Hepzibah's door.

‎She grudgingly woke up and turned from side to side on the bed.

‎"What the hell, Daryl?" she yelled back.

‎"Where's Mum?"

‎She asked, still struggling to get up from the bed.

‎"She left to her brother's place and said you should make breakfast."

‎"Mtcheeeew. How am I supposed to know what to cook?" she asked tiredly.

‎Of course, the last thing she wanted to do right now was chores, most especially cooking, not after the incident that happened the previous night.

‎"She said you should prepare yam porridge, and please be fast. The men of the house are hungry."

‎Daryl said and hurriedly stormed out.

‎He knew how much Hepzibah hated that statement, and there was a possibility that she might even slap him since both parents weren't around.

‎"f**k all the men in this house."

‎With that, she stood up from the bed, grabbed her phone and texted Shirley.

‎Hepzibah:

‎"Hey Shirley, I think someone is watching me. Someone is stalking me. Call me when you see this."

‎She left for the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

‎As she peeled the yam, her thoughts wandered back to yesterday.

‎The unknown number.

‎The town hall.

‎Winifred.

‎Her sketches.

‎Fashion illustration.

‎Everything seemed to be happening too quickly.

‎She had spent most of the night thinking about Winifred's offer.

‎For years, drawing had simply been her escape. Whenever she was bored, stressed or tired of the reality around her, she would pick up a pencil and start drawing.

‎Sometimes dresses.

‎Sometimes faces.

‎Sometimes cartoons.

‎Sometimes things that existed only in her imagination.

‎She had never considered it a real skill.

‎But Winifred had.

‎And somehow, that made Hepzibah see her drawings differently.

‎Her phone began to ring.

‎It was Shirley.

‎She quickly answered.

‎"Hello?"

‎"Zibah, what do you mean someone is stalking you?"

‎"I don't know, Shirley."

‎Hepzibah lowered her voice.

‎"The person messaged me again."

‎"What did they say?"

‎"They told me to never stop drawing."

‎There was silence for a few seconds.

‎"That's creepy."

‎"I know."

‎"Did you tell Winifred?"

‎"No."

‎"Why?"

‎"I don't know. I don't even know what to think yet."

‎Shirley sighed.

‎"Okay. Just be careful. And don't meet that person alone if they contact you again."

‎"I won't."

‎There was another brief silence.

‎Then Shirley asked,

‎"So... have you thought about what Winifred said?"

‎Hepzibah stirred the yam porridge slowly.

‎"Yes."

‎"And?"

‎"I think I want to learn."

‎Shirley squealed.

‎"I knew it!"

‎"Keep your voice down."

‎"I'm happy for you, Zibah."

‎Hepzibah smiled.

‎"But there's still my father."

‎"Then don't let him stop you before you've even started."

‎Hepzibah sighed.

‎"I'll think about it."

‎"You better."

‎After they ended the call, Hepzibah remained in the kitchen for a while.

‎She knew what she wanted.

‎She just didn't know how to get there.

‎Money was the biggest problem.

‎Her father had already made it clear that he wouldn't spend money training a daughter.

‎Her mother didn't have much either.

‎So how exactly was she supposed to learn?

‎---

‎By the time Clara returned, Hepzibah had finished most of her chores.

‎She heard the gate open and stepped outside.

‎"Mum."

‎Clara walked into the compound, looking tired.

‎"You've returned."

‎"Yes."

‎Hepzibah noticed that something was different about her.

‎She looked worried.

‎"Mum, are you okay?"

‎Clara nodded.

‎"I'm fine."

‎She walked inside and placed her handbag on the chair.

‎Hepzibah followed her.

‎She wanted to ask where she had gone, but she decided to wait.

‎A few minutes later, Clara sat down.

‎Hepzibah stood in front of her.

‎"Mum?"

‎"Hmm?"

‎"I want to tell you something."

‎Clara looked up.

‎"Come and sit."

‎Hepzibah sat beside her.

‎For a moment, she struggled to find the right words.

‎She had kept this part of herself hidden for so long that saying it aloud suddenly felt frightening.

‎"Mum, remember when we talked about talent yesterday?"

‎"Yes."

‎"You asked me if there was something I was good at."

‎Clara nodded.

‎Hepzibah took a deep breath.

‎"There is."

‎Clara's eyes widened slightly.

‎"What is it?"

‎"I draw."

‎Clara stared at her.

‎"You draw?"

‎Hepzibah nodded.

‎"I've been drawing for a long time."

‎She looked down at her hands.

‎"I draw almost anything. Sometimes cartoons. Sometimes random things. But lately..."

‎She paused.

‎"Lately, I've been drawing dresses."

‎Clara's expression changed.

‎"Dresses?"

‎"Yes."

‎Hepzibah nodded.

‎"I've become interested in fashion."

‎Clara was silent.

‎"I post some of my drawings online too."

‎"You've been doing this all this time?"

‎Hepzibah nodded slowly.

‎"I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was anything serious."

‎Clara reached for her hand.

‎"Why didn't you tell me?"

‎"I don't know."

‎Hepzibah's voice became softer.

‎"Maybe because I was scared that Dad would find out."

‎Clara understood immediately.

‎Then Hepzibah remembered something.

‎"There is more."

‎"What is it?"

‎"Yesterday, I met someone."

‎Clara's brows furrowed.

‎"Who?"

‎"Her name is Winifred."

‎Hepzibah began telling her everything.

‎How an unknown number had contacted her.

‎How the person knew about her drawings.

‎How she had been asked to meet at the town hall.

‎How she had been afraid to go alone and asked Shirley to come with her.

‎And how Winifred had eventually appeared.

‎Clara listened carefully.

‎"You went there without telling me?"

‎Hepzibah lowered her head.

‎"I'm sorry."

‎"You could have been in danger."

‎"I know, Mum."

‎Clara sighed.

‎"But..."

‎She looked at her daughter.

‎"What did she want?"

‎Hepzibah's eyes brightened slightly.

‎"She saw my drawings online."

‎Clara's expression softened.

‎"She said I have talent."

‎Hepzibah smiled.

‎"She told me about fashion illustration and said I could learn."

‎"Learn what?"

‎"Fashion."

‎Clara stared at her.

‎"I want to learn fashion and design, Mum."

‎The room became quiet.

‎Hepzibah waited nervously for her mother's response.

‎Then Clara smiled.

‎"Is that what you want?"

‎"Yes."

‎"Are you sure?"

‎Hepzibah nodded.

‎"For the first time, I think I've found something I really want to do."

‎Clara pulled her closer.

‎"Then you should do it."

‎Hepzibah's eyes filled with tears.

‎"But how?"

‎Clara smiled.

‎"I've already started looking for a way."

‎Hepzibah pulled back.

‎"What do you mean?"

‎Clara took a deep breath.

‎"I went to your uncle this morning."

‎"Why?"

‎"To borrow money."

‎Hepzibah stared at her.

‎"For what?"

‎"For you."

‎Hepzibah couldn't speak.

‎Clara continued.

‎"I told him I wanted to get some money to train you in whatever skill you eventually decided to learn."

‎Hepzibah's eyes widened.

‎"You did that before I even told you?"

‎"Yes."

‎A tear rolled down Hepzibah's cheek.

‎"Mum..."

‎"I may not have much, but I refuse to watch my daughter sit at home simply because her father doesn't believe in educating girls."

‎She wiped Hepzibah's tear.

‎"When I left this morning, I didn't know what you wanted to learn. I only knew that I wanted you to have a chance to learn something."

‎Hepzibah hugged her.

‎Clara held her tightly.

‎For a moment, neither of them spoke.

‎Then Hepzibah whispered,

‎"You really believe in me?"

‎Clara pulled away and looked directly into her eyes.

‎"I believe in you more than you know."

‎Hepzibah smiled through her tears.

‎"Even if Dad doesn't?"

‎"Especially then."

‎Clara smiled.

‎"But don't learn fashion just to prove your father wrong."

‎Hepzibah looked at her.

‎"Learn it because you love it."

‎She nodded.

‎"I will."

‎Clara brushed her daughter's hair away from her face.

‎"And if this is truly what you want, then we'll find a way."

‎Hepzibah smiled.

‎For the first time, her dream didn't feel like something she had to carry alone.

‎She had no idea where fashion would take her.

‎She didn't know how long it would take before she became good enough.

‎She didn't even know whether her father's anger would become another obstacle.

‎But she knew one thing.

‎She was finally going to give herself a chance.

‎And sometimes, all a dream needed was someone willing to believe in it.

‎That night, Hepzibah opened her sketchbook.

‎On a fresh page, she drew the first dress she had ever designed with a different feeling.

‎This time, she wasn't drawing to escape reality.

‎She was drawing the future she hoped to create.