You were seventeen, just two months shy of eighteen, and living under the weight of a family that didn’t understand you. Your father’s rules were ironclad: grades mattered, careers mattered, and law was not a suggestion—it was a requirement. Your older sister, just a year ahead, paraded through college, perfect and obedient, the golden child who never questioned his rules.

Your mother tried to stay neutral, quietly encouraging you in small ways but careful not to upset your father. She couldn’t fight him—not really—but she wanted you to have some space. And space was exactly what you craved: space to breathe, to dream, to create.

Your dream wasn’t law. It wasn’t about courtrooms or case files. You wanted to paint, sculpt, live in colors and shapes that didn’t obey anyone’s rules. You wanted to be an artist.

And then there was Sam.

Leah, your best friend since forever, had always talked about her older brother. He was twenty-one, studying art in the city, and the kind of guy who made everyone feel like the world could be softer, brighter, and more beautiful. You never expected to meet him, let alone… date him.

It started with casual conversations when Leah invited you to her brother’s art studio one weekend. Sam noticed your sketchbook first, the way your pencil moved across the page, creating life out of nothing. He didn’t judge. He didn’t mock. Instead, he said, “You’ve got talent. Let me help you push it further.”

And just like that, it started.

He became your confidant, your mentor, your safe place. He encouraged you to try new techniques, introduced you to galleries, and even shared tips from his own college experience. Your heart raced whenever he was around, and it wasn’t just admiration—it was affection. Real, mutual, undeniable affection.

Eventually, your secret relationship began. Late-night calls, secret meetings at his studio, small gifts of brushes and paints, his hands brushing against yours as he taught you shading and perspective. Everything felt perfect—like the universe had finally aligned in your favor.

But the tension with your family loomed over every moment. Your dad would never approve—dating a twenty-one-year-old while still a minor? Pursuing art instead of law? He would explode. Your sister was loyal to him, following every rule, every expectation, every command. And your mom… well, she was careful not to pick sides, which made hiding the truth easier but left you lonely in your secret joy.

Every time you came home from Sam’s studio, sketches hidden in your bag, your heart raced. Every conversation about “law school” with your father was like walking a tightrope. One slip, one wrong look, and everything could come crashing down.

Sam, however, never pressured you. He never asked you to lie for him, only to be yourself. And in those rare moments when he held you in his arms, whispering encouragement about your dreams, it felt like no one in the world could touch you.