Part Three: Creating My Own Path
I survived college on scholarships, instant noodles, and grit.
While they thrived on stolen money, I learned to survive on effort.
By twenty-four, I had launched my own design studio. Freelance work turned into real contracts, real stability, and a sense of pride I’d built alone.
Still, I attended family dinners — maybe hoping one day they’d finally see me as more than an inconvenience.
The only one who ever truly saw me was Grandma Dorothy, Gregory’s mother.
She’d call just to ask how I was doing, send me handwritten letters ending with, “You’re stronger than you think.”
I didn’t know she had been quietly watching everything — waiting for her moment to make things right.
