a whisper in the wind | ✓

two

MAHAM WAS WRONG.

And any consideration I had towards her unconventional words flies straight out the fucking window when my dad asks me about my studies the next morning (because that's all he ever talks about with me. Does he even know who I am as a person?).

Sunlight streaks through the tall window panes behind the breakfast area, reflections of white rectangles splaying over the dark wood of the table. The television airs the morning news that can be heard at a soft volume from the open kitchen.

Forking through the scrambled eggs in my bowl, I try my best to ignore the hint of fear creeping up my spine. Talks like these never end well. "They're going fine. I have finals next week and then I'll be done."

"And what are your plans after you graduate?"

The words spill from my lips before I can take them back, "I don't know, I think I'll—"

"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?"

—beat.

And there goes my appetite...

I put the fork down, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for the inevitable lecture that always comes with this topic of conversation. "Look, I have a plan. I'll do my Master's in Healthcare Management, but I'm just not a hundred percent certain if I want to commit to that yet. I... want to take a year off to figure it out. Work a bit, earn some money."

Placing another plate of toast on the table, my mom takes a seat next to my dad before digging in. "How do you spend four years in college and not find out what you want to pursue?"

"You mean, how do I only spend four years in college to find out what I want to pursue for the rest of my life?"

Whether my parents genuinely understand the point of my argument doesn't matter as they brush it away into the dustpan and down the trash (along with the rest of their daughter's opinions).

"Everyone does it, Karina," my mother continues. "People get a Bachelor's degree and they've already got a full-time job lined up for them in the field they want to work in. Like Aisha—"

Oh my God. Here we go. Why do they have to ruin my mood first thing in the morning?

"She's already working in software development, and the Rizvis' son is doing his MBA"—my mom turns towards my dad—"You remember the Khans' daughter, don't you? Haneen graduated high school early, and she's already received her Associate's degree in two years! Her mother was telling me the other day about all the certifications she's working towards and..."

At this point, my brain knows better than to waste its energy in processing the auditory input that comes from my parents. I know they only mean well and want me to have a stable job, but it's times like these that make me feel as if they don't care about my happiness and well-being. They just want a reason to brag about me to other parents.