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She took a shuddering breath, hardly able to speak. A part of her considered leaving it, just like every other time before, like she always had, but she couldn’t keep living this way.

“The bookstore is a real job,” she said, looking up at her parents. They were both shocked and confused by her meltdown. “I’m not going to work in data analytics. I’m not going to work in a corporate office at a job I hate.”

As she said the words, the sentiment grew more resolutely within her. All these things she’d wanted to say for months, years: They were finally coming out. She had been convincing herself there was no use in saying anything, that nothing would change, but as she spoke the words, she realized that even if nothing changed, she could.

She could at least say what she wanted to say, let them know how she felt. Suddenly, it seemed like the most absurd thing in the world that she hadn’t said any of this sooner.

Lucy cleared her throat. “Working with books is what I intend to do with my life,” she continued, voice growing stronger. “If not at Crawley Books, then somewhere else. I’m sorry if that’s not enough for you, but that’s how it is.”

Releasing a long breath, she unclasped her hands in her lap. She felt both nauseous at what she’d said and relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest.

Her parents shared a glance, then looked back at her, staring as if she were a stranger, which she basically was.

They had given her life, but they didn’t know her. They didn’t know what made her happy or sad, what made her laugh or cry. They didn’t know what motivated her to wake up each morning, what kept her awake at night.

They didn’t know her, and yet, she held their opinion in such high regard, letting their passive comments cut her up from the inside—why? It was normal, it was natural. They were her parents, after all.

But enough was enough.

“If you can’t understand and support that, it’s okay,” Lucy said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Really. But then I can’t stay here.” She couldn’t continue on like this.

“Don’t be silly,” Andrew said, breaking the silence. He furrowed his brows. “There’s no need to move out.”

“Anyway, you can’t afford it,” Iffat added, and tears sprang in Lucy’s eyes again.

“Then I’ll work two jobs!” she exclaimed. “I’ll do whatever I have to do, but I won’t be miserable, and I won’t be made to feel badly about what I want to do with my life.”

Iffat’s face contorted with surprise.

“We just want you to be secure,” Iffat said, confused by Lucy’s out-burst. “Stable. Safe.” Her voice softened. “You don’t know what it was like for me when I moved to this country. I lived on scraps for so long, and I don’t want that for you.”

“I know,” Lucy replied, and this time, she reached over to take her mother’s hand. “I get that, and I appreciate it, but I am secure and stable. And even if I’m not, you have to let me figure it out on my own, just like you did. I’m twenty-four. I can handle it.”

“We just don’t want to see your potential going to waste,” Andrew said. “There’s so much you could do with your magic.”

“I know there is! Because I am doing it,” she said, and this time, she actually believed herself. “You may not see that, but I do.” She couldn’t help but think of the person who had helped her realize such a thing. Lucy released her mother, pressing her hand to her heart. “I know what I’m doing is worthwhile and that it matters. I believe that. I believe in myself.”

As she said the words, she realized they were true. That they had been true for some time.

“And anyway, even if I was wasting my potential—whatever that means!—that’s for me to decide,” she said. “Everyone is meant for great things, but those great things vary. Please don’t weigh my life on a scale and judge if I’m doing enough.”

“No one is judging you,” Andrew said, shaking his head, and frustration burst through Lucy.

“But you are! You both are, all the time! And I want you to stop,” she said, voice firm. “Maybe all I want to do with my life is to be happy and talk to strangers and sell books and love people! From where I’m standing, those are great things—they matter. I see it every day. I feel it every day, because the warmth I try to give off is the very same warmth I receive, and it’s made all the difference in my life, and I hope I can make that same difference in other peoples’ lives.”

She finished her little speech, out of breath. Lucy didn’t know who was more shocked: her or her parents. She probably hadn’t spoken this many words to them, total, in the last six months.

Lucy’s heart hammered in her chest. They blinked at her, then at each other, the house completely silent as they all absorbed what Lucy had said.

“Okay,” Iffat finally said. “You’re an adult. You can figure things out for yourself.”

“If that’s what you want,” Andrew added. “We won’t say anything.”

“It is,” Lucy said, releasing a long breath. “It really is.”

“But there’s no need to move out,” Iffat said with a frown. “It’s nice to see you every once in a while, when we’re able to be home, and if you move out, we’ll probably never see each other. And we like seeing you.”

In an ideal world, they would make time to see each other, even if Lucy moved out. But everything couldn’t be solved at once. Baby steps. The important thing was voicing what she felt, and she had done that today.