I was embarrassed in front of everyone at a design competition for my age. Within 24 hours, my son’s fiancée, the lady who belittled me, entered my home.
I always thought my time was up. My ideal design was swiftly put on hold as life prioritized my spouse, child, house, and duties.
I finally felt creative at sixty.
My concept made the finals of a major design competition, I was notified by email. I wept. From bliss. From dread. From all that meant.
It was no ordinary project. A part of Daniel and my past.
He was a little lad when I started this idea. He proudly gave me his flower drawings, which I stored in hopes of using them in my work.
They were the basis of my first real design effort after all those years. I combined childhood themes with new trends to create elegant designs.
I intended to surprise Daniel while gaining the job and permission to implement the proposal. I told him about the competition during supper. He placed his fork down and stared at me.
Mom, this is amazing. Are you sure?”
“Yes I am! Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’ve always been afraid of change.”
He’s right. I’m scared. Worried it’s too late. If I don’t try now, I never will.
“I have to do this, Daniel.”
He smirked and cocked his head.
“Then you need the perfect outfit.”
I sighed.
“Daniel, I’m a designer, not a model.”
Design competition. You’re introducing yourself and your project. Shop together.”
For illustration only. Source: Pexels
For example only | Source: Pexels
Before he pulled up stores on his phone, I had no time to argue.
“By the way, I have something to buy too…”
“What is it?”
He paused.
“A ring.”
I nearly dropped my tea.
“You’re going to…”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Daniel.”
Joy filled my heart. My son was making his biggest life change.
“Will you help me pick one?”
“Of course I will!”
We agreed to go. It was one of those rare times when the future seemed bright and promising.
Both of us had large plans and festivities. I had no idea that bright day would soon be followed by terrible disappointment.
***
A few days later, I visited the large, contemporary office where the competition’s final stage was held. Nervousness hit me, but I kept my cool. I loved my project. I believed.
Other contenders were youthful, trendy, and confident. Some participants didn’t disguise their amazement upon seeing me. A girl with short pink hair grinned at me from head to toe.
Within minutes, presentations began. Contestants presented their work one by one. Some were amazing, others expected.
Then my turn.
I breathed deeply and walked onstage. The bright lights made me feel like dozens of eyes were watching me.
For illustration only. Source: Pexels
For example only | Source: Pexels
“My idea,” I said, “combines modern minimalism with nature-inspired aspects. The concept links design with personal history.”
My designs flashed on the huge screen once I clicked the remote. Each aloral pattern was inspired by my son’s childhood paintings for me.
People leaned forward, interested in my work, while I spoke. I did well—maybe better than most. Then truth struck.
As the competition director entered, she was tall and elegant. She smiled at the audience before facing us, the finalists.
“Thank you all for being here,” she said. “We applaud your originality and devotion after seeing several intriguing ideas today. Talent alone isn’t enough. You must also meet industry requirements.”
Before looking at me, she scanned the room.
“Oh, and of course… we have our most unique finalist.”
A few whispered laughs. She smiled theatrically with folded hands.
“Anna, your project is excellent. The details, concept, and execution are polished. Success goes beyond ideas, as we all know. Image matters too.”
I could feel humiliation rising in my neck.
“You see,” she said, “design is fresh-thinking. Youthful vitality. We must acknowledge that appearance may be as crucial as talent.
Someone in the back laughed softly. The courteous equivalent of “You’re too old for this.”
I anticipated skepticism. But this? Blatant humiliation.
“And now, the winner of this year’s competition…”
I knew the answer before she named it. Not me.
I did my best. I showed my talent. I never found it competitive. I wasn’t judged by work. Age was used against me.
I breathed deeply and left the stage with dignity. Inside, something broke. Nothing was over yet.
***
My next day, I attempted to divert myself. Whatever I tried, I couldn’t shake the shame.
That night should be exceptional. Daniel invited his fiancée to supper. I didn’t tell him what occurred to avoid ruining it.
The doorbell rang. I opened it after wiping my hands on a towel.
“Mom, hey!”
Daniel entered smiling. Then my heart fell. It was HER. The same lady who humiliated me publicly.
“Mom, this is Rosalind, my fiancée.”
My knees shook, but she smiled and offered her hand.
Anna, I’m so glad we finally met! Daniel has told me much about you.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
She knew I wouldn’t speak. Not in front of son.
“Mom, you have no idea how proud I am of you!” Daniel remarked cheerfully, embracing me. “Tell us, how did your presentation go?”
I stared at his fiancée. She awaited.
“Oh, the results aren’t in yet,” I said, keeping her eyes. “But I’m confident I’ll get the position.”
Her smile sagged for the first time. Daniel entered the kitchen to get the wine, and she leaned forward.
“You’ll get the job, as long as you keep quiet about yesterday.”
“I might consider. This is about my son’s pleasure.”
She smiled triumphantly and relaxed.
“But there’s one condition,” I said.
“And what’s that?”
You will respect me. From now on.”
“Of course, Anna,” she responded calmly.
Rest of the evening went well. Grace and virtue characterized Rosalind. I knew Rosalind’s personality. People like her didn’t fold. Winning was their goal.
So as we said farewell and I climbed my studio steps, I wasn’t startled to see my project gone.
My desk drawings. My notes. My project was taken.
The game continued. I was already ahead.
***
Days passed. Rosalind’s stolen project—my drawings and ideas—was released. As the designer who “revolutionized” modern advertising, she basked in the spotlight.
I may have revealed her lie. But I didn’t. Instead, I waited.
All stolen work has fingerprints. Rosalind accidently fell.
At the engagement reception, everything fell apart. The night was lavish. Rosalind shone with triumph at the center.
“…and the best part?” “We’re already talking about a bigger project after the campaign’s huge success,” she said, lifting her glass. Think about it! Who knew a simple concept could create trends?”
She smiled, soaking in the praise. Daniel beamed proudly alongside her.
Babe, that’s great. Explain the campaign again. What inspired it?”
“Oh, it’s a mix of modern minimalism and natural elements—floral patterns that evoke nostalgia and warmth.”
She smiled proudly at Daniel. “I can finally demonstrate. Watch, darling—my creation, my pride.”
Daniel recognized her phone as she brought it out.
“Wait. “That seems familiar.”
He faced me. “Mom, doesn’t that look like your project?”
I looked at him and nodded. It does.”
Come on, Daniel. Just a coincidence. A very frequent idea.”
Daniel wasn’t convinced. His face clouded.
“It’s no coincidence. I recognize those styles. My early sketches!”
He stared at Rosalind and me.
“Mom? Could you clarify?”
Inhaled deeply. It was time.
“It began before the competition. I was humiliated publicly. By Rosalind. She was your fiancée when I answered my door the next day.”
Daniel grew pallid. “Wait… you mean… Why didn’t you tell me?”
We struck an agreement. She had a chance. She vowed to respect me, and I wouldn’t hurt you two.”
Daniel returned to Rosalind.
Then what? What followed?”
No doubt, Daniel, your mother is talented. Unfortunately, she is not competitive in the current market. Her appearance is antiquated. But ideas? Brilliant. They needed a refresh.”
“A fresh touch?” Daniel repeated.
Some I borrowed. I believed I could fix them. After the campaign, I’d share the success.”
Raised eyebrow. “When, exactly, were you planning to do that?”
I needed time. I wanted to start early…”
“Would that be before or after you stole my project from my home?”
Daniel breathed hard. You got it? From Mom’s studio?”
“I…”
“Rosalind,” Daniel mumbled. “I never thought you were capable of something like this.”
She was speechless for the first time. Daniel’s voice froze.
“Finished. Whoever does this can’t marry me. Dear mother. To me.”
Rosalind rushed away, leaving rumors.
Dan sighed, stroking his temple. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I needed you to see it for yourself.”
He took a big piece of the engagement cake and gazed at me.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
To park. Eat this cake as we did before.”
We ate cake on a park seat under the starlight.
I was laid off. I regained my dignity. Most significantly, I had my kid.