Part of me wanted to retreat, to avoid any confrontation that might make things worse.
But another part of me knew this interview was a chance to break free, to carve out a space where I could breathe without the ever-present weight of family expectations.
I checked the time; my interview was in less than an hour.
The clock was ticking, each second a reminder of how little control I seemed to have over my own life.
Decision time was slipping away.
Would I stand my ground or yield once more to the demands that never seemed to end?
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as I gathered my things and turned toward the door.
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