My knees were still shaking as I stepped back. My painting stood in the lights, and I felt tiny in its shadow. The judges were leaning over each other and whispering. My heart was beating so fast it seemed the whole room could hear the sound coming from my chest.
"Thank you, Lina," said the judge in the middle. His voice was neither harsh nor soft. Just serious.
As I returned to my seat, I met Elif's eyes. She smiled at me; I gave a shaky smile. The only thing I could think was: It's over. No matter what, I didn't hide it.
Hours passed. Dozens of paintings were displayed, and dozens of students left the stage, either in tears or with pride. Finally, the judges took the podium. The room fell silent. There was only the rustling of papers.
"Third place award…" they said, and a name was read. Applause rose.
"Second place award…" another name. The applause grew louder.
My heart almost stopped. "It's over," I said to myself. "So it didn't work out."
But then, I heard those words:
"And the first prize… Lina Kara."
At that moment, time froze again. The only thing echoing in my ears was my name. I didn't hear the applause, Elif's scream, or the judges' smiles. I felt only one thing: the opening of a door that had been chained inside me for years.
My legs felt numb as I stood. I walked to the stage to accept the award. My hands were sweaty, my heart still racing. But when I looked at my painting, all my fears vanished. Because that painting wasn't mine anymore, it was the sky.
When the ceremony ended, Elif ran to me and hugged me. "You did it!" she whispered. I could only laugh through my tears.
But my real test began when I returned home.
When I opened the door, my mother was waiting in the middle of the hall. My father had also arrived from work early. They both stared at me silently. Their eyes widened when they saw the certificate and the award in my hand.
"First place?" my father asked, surprised.
I bowed my head and whispered, "Yes."
My mother remained silent. Then she slowly approached. She placed her hand on my picture. For a long time, she didn't speak. I couldn't even breathe. Finally, something flashed in her eyes—whether it was hurt or pride, I don't know. But she smiled at me for the first time.
"So it was that… important," she said.
At that moment, all the chains within me broke. Because now even my mother wasn't just calling my picture "don't waste time."
That night, as I lay in bed, I looked out the window at the sky. The stars seemed to wink at me. And I whispered:
"My dreams are in the sky now. And from there, no one can knock them off."