اب مثالي

Sarah's POV.

"And the champion is... SARAH RAVEN!!!" The MC's voice booms through the microphone, electrifying the room.

Hi, welcome to my story. My name is Sarah. I’m 18 years old and a senior at Starlight High School.

Today is supposed to be a special day for me—at least in the eyes of others.

We’re gathered here for the reward ceremony of the school’s financial contest, and guess what? I won.

My parents sit beside me in their best attire, beaming with pride. Mom dabs at her tears with a tissue, while Dad nudges me, urging me to head up to the stage.

"That’s my girl!" he shouts loud enough for the whole hall to hear.

The prize? Ten thousand dollars in cash and a full scholarship to Harvard University. It’s all thanks to DC Company, one of the top players in the industry.

My classmates show their happiness clearly on their faces.

Some cheer for me loudly, like a bomb exploding, others applaud with whistles, and some simply show admiration in their eyes.

I also notice a few girls with hints of envy in their eyes.

But not Mia—never Mia. My best friend sits calmly, watching me with a quiet, steady pride. She doesn’t need to shout or clap the loudest. Her gaze says everything.

And yet, as I stand here, soaking in the applause and basking in the spotlight, I feel…

NOTHING.

I study for my parents, not for myself.

I live for my dad’s sake, not my own.

This achievement? It’s NOT something I want for my life.

People can admire me or envy me. They can hate me or love me.

It's all meaningless.

Because I have already dead inside. I'm spending hours studying like a nerd while I'm not that type of person.

I'm not me. I'm not me. I'm not the real me. I'm not the one who I truly want to be.

There's no joy in it because, in that way, I’m just an employee for my parents.

The studious employee.

Even so, I still love them.

It sounds stupid and naive, right?

I make my way up to the stage and recite the thank-you speech. I always have no problem with public speaking, and I can also easily show my confidence in public.

My parents stand up, applauding. They smile widely, and they always show their support for my schoolwork.

Anyway, it's not something negative in their perspective.

The sponsor places a garland around my neck, shakes my hand, and takes a picture.

I smile at the camera, with the stage lights flaring behind my back.

After everything is done, my parents wait for me outside the school gate in their Ferrari.

Dad touches his silver hair, and I can see his tall, sturdy build from afar. Mom links her arm with his, and I notice she's wearing a white dress with red floral patterns.

They're waving at me when I walk toward them with my best friend.

"Sarah! Over here!" she calls out.

Mia watches my parents and can't hold back her laughter at the scene.

My face flushes, and my ears feel hot with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I can’t go home with you as promised," I say to Mia as I touch my nose and my eyes stick on the ground.

"It’s cool, just get in the car. Your parents are waiting," Mia is grinning mischievously as she replies me with a cool posture.

With that, I hop into the car and wave goodbye to her.

She titls her head and waves back when the car is about to start its engine.

"Do you want to have a special meal, Sarah? We should take our champion to a high-end restaurant." He turns left, his face stern.

"Oh, honey, are you alright?" Mom looks at me with concern when I look a bit pale by the weather. "Let me check to make sure you’re alright." She reaches out to touch me but I avoid her touch.

I sigh as Mom tends to overreact when her husband around. If it were just the two of us, she usually doesn't give a shit about me.

I'm not sure why, but it feels like my parents treat me like I’m three years old and I can’t help but laugh quietly to myself at the thought.

"I’m fine, Mom. I’m just a little tired after the award ceremony. So why don’t you guys just take me home?"

"No, Sarah. I already made a reservation at the restaurant," Dad says firmly.

I don’t answer but nod, staring out of the car window again to search for some peace.

I participated in the Student Investment competition for awards to pursue my dream of becoming a singer.

Yes, you heard me right. I’ve always wanted to be a singer since I was a kid.

I’ve never given up on that dream.

The vibrant city spares me, or else I might die clinging to this "stupid" dream.

My heart races, almost like the artist district itself is mocking me for my cowardice.

We arrive at The Hungry Wolf restaurant on Autumn Street, in the heart of the city, and head up to the seventh floor, where we enter a private VIP room with a breathtaking view of the entire city.

When we begin the meal, I decide it’s time to bring up a serious topic with Dad.

“Dad, can we talk? I have something I want to discuss with you right now.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, looking him in the eyes.

“Sure,” he replies, setting down his fork and giving me his full attention.

“I want my rewards back.” I feel my heart race as I voice my request, my fingers nervously curling and unrolling the edge of the napkin.

Dad stops mid-bite, his expression shifting to seriousness. “What do you need it for? Investing?” He raises an eyebrow, his fork paused in the air.

"I think I have every right to use the money I worked hard for without having to explain to anyone what I’m spending it on." I meet his eyes, all confident, and sit up straighter in my chair.

Mom chimes in, her voice rising in panic, “Sarah!"

Dad shakes his head firmly, his tone authoritative. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. You can’t have it because you’re still a kid. And I’m your father, not 'anyone else' like you said.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as if to close off the conversation.

I continue eating in silence. I’m already 18. I legally count as an adult.

Dad just said something totally out of pocket that makes no sense.

I feel my heart screaming, but I’m determined not to let that emotion out until I’m home.

Back in my room, my plans for a new music video have faded like smoke.

I gaze into the mirror, wiping away the tears trickling down my burning cheeks.

I never let anyone know what's inside me, but that doesn't mean I’m not overthinking or struggling with anxiety disorder.

Damn, I hate this feeling.

I lie down in bed, pick up my phone, and open I*******m.

Mia just uploaded a new story of her partying at Rose Black nightclub.

"Mia, he took all my money," I text my best friend.

"Stop being so down, dude. Come hang out with us," Mia replies as fast as I can expect.

Tears keep flowing as I type.

My hand shakes as I curl up in a blanket like a sushi roll.

"How are you texting so fast while dancing?" I send back.

"I’m actually outside your house. Come down here."

"I thought you were at the club?"

"Stop asking questions and just hurry up, you dummy."

I manage to drag myself out of the blanket.

Having a friend whenever you’re down is sooo damn good.

I open my closet and pick out a tight black dress to show off my curves.

I slip on some fishnet stockings and brush my black, slightly curly hair until it’s smooth.

Luckily, my skin is healthy, so I don’t need foundation—just a bit of concealer under my eyes and a touch of blush to brighten up.

I highlight my eyes with eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara.

I choose a RED lipstick for tonight.

Quickly grabbing my gray purse and throwing on a black leather jacket, I tiptoe downstairs, careful not to wake my parents.

I grab my house key and successfully sneak out.

I did it. I got out of my sadness.

I’m usually a gloomy person who cannot heal easily—or at least that’s how I see myself.

My best friend is always proud of her short red hair, and of course, she rocks dark eyeliner to match her cool style.

She leans casually against her silver motorcycle, the wind tousling her hair, making her look effortlessly cool in her outfit.

She’s the coolest, strongest girl I know.

After a glance at my figure walking toward Mia, she laughs and tosses me a helmet, which I catch before climbing onto the bike.

With her driving skills, we reach Rose Black nightclub in no time, like a rocket shooting toward the universe.

As we enter the club, the music is blasting, and my heart feels like it’s about to leap out of my chest.

Oh god, I’m so busy studying that this is only my second time at a club.

The first time was with my whole class at the beginning of the semester, under the watchful eye of the head teacher.

Mia leads me over to a group of her friends, who share her style and are very welcoming.

However, I don’t feel like dancing at all.

Mia is full of energy. She’s a real bossy girl in the club.

I admire her this way when she’s grooving to the music with a guy who shares her fashion style.

The music stops, and the host speaks into the mic: "Ladies and gentlemen, today our club has a special event to celebrate our 25th anniversary. You’ll have the chance to perform your favorite song, accompanied by the famous band, The Animals."