Category: Family Quilt

I don’t remember the last time my parents tucked me into bed. Maybe when I was three or four. But even then, I think it was Alina, my nanny, who held my hand as I drifted off to sleep. My parents are always busy—meetings, flights, late-night calls. They live in the same house as me,…

The world feels quieter now. Not in the way that bedtime silence settles over a room, but in a way that stretches through every moment, filling spaces where a voice used to be, where laughter once lived. The mornings aren’t the same. There’s no soft humming in the kitchen, no gentle hands smoothing out wrinkles…

Having divorced parents is a complex experience—one that shapes the way you view family, love, and stability. It’s not necessarily a tragic story, nor is it always an easy one. It’s an experience that comes with contradictions: relief and sadness, love and resentment, independence and longing. I was young when my parents split, too young…

In a world where everything glittered, I was the polish that made it shine brighter. Or at least, that’s what I was raised to be. Perfection wasn’t an option; it was an expectation. My mother didn’t just demand it—she built it, sculpted it, shaped it into every inch of my being. I was her finest…

If there was one word people used to describe me as a child, it was stubborn. I had opinions, and I made sure everyone knew them. If I wanted something and someone told me no, I didn’t just accept it—I fought for it. Loudly. Dramatically. Sometimes with tears, sometimes with arguments that made absolutely no sense…