She had only one shot.
The ArtRise Annual Showcase came once every three years. Just one submission, one opportunity, and then the door would close—forever.
For years, she had prepared for it. Every sketch, every brushstroke, every sleepless night was leading to this moment. She wasn't just chasing a dream—she was chasing the only path she believed could make that dream real.
And she did it. She created a painting that reflected her whole journey: joy, pain, struggle, and hope. It was bold and delicate, loud in color yet quiet in meaning. It was her.
But the night before the submission, her masterpiece was destroyed.
She stood frozen in front of it, her heart pounding, her breath shallow.
All her work. All her hope. Gone.
There were no second chances.
She felt numb. Not just hurt, but empty.
She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She just sat down beside the ruined painting and stared at it for hours. The world moved on outside, but hers had stopped.
"This was it," she thought.
"This was my only shot. And it's over."
Days passed.
Everyone around her believed she had given up. Maybe she had. For a while, she didn't touch a pencil, a brush, or even look at colors. What was the point now?
But dreams... real dreams—they don't disappear. They burn quietly inside, even in the dark.
One evening, she picked up a small canvas. Not for the showcase. Not for the judges. Just for herself. No pressure. No expectations. Just her heart and a blank space.
And somehow, that one small canvas brought her back to life.
She realized something powerful:
"If one door closes, I'll build another."
She was just one of many artists in the company—young, talented, and quiet. Her job was to assist, follow instructions, and stay in the background.
But she had bigger dreams.
She wanted to lead. She wanted her own space, her own voice. And for a while, it looked possible. The company had announced an internal competition: one painting would be chosen for a high-profile exhibition, and the winner would get a promotion—her dream position.