“It is,” I say fiercely, ignoring the way my fingers are trembling. “It’s my ticket out of here. I thought you understood that. You said that your photography contest meant the same thing to you.”

“But you’re so focused on it,” he says, finally dropping his hand. “You remind me of my mother sometimes. You have this overwhelming intensity that makes you forget the world around you. You’re neglecting so many of the people that love and care about you—”

“That’s not fair,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t do this anymore, Emmitt. I can’t live in this city and be around my parents and constantly live in worry of their judgment. That’s not what a home is.”

“I know, Mina,” he says, his voice heavy. “But home doesn’t have to be with your parents. Home can be your friends, your sister, this city. Home can be yourself. Don’t you get it? Home is where you find love.”

I start crying. I can’t help it. My eyes gloss over and tears fall down my cheeks, wet and warm. Being happy is always just out of reach. Maybe it’s never going to be in the cards for me.

Emmitt reaches for me, but I take another step back. “You don’t understand. They’ll kill my dreams.”

“They don’t have that power,” he says, his hands twitching at his sides as tears continue to stream down my face. “Don’t give it to them.”

“Easy for you to say,” I snap, my defensive guard finally kicking into gear. How could he start this fight? He was the one part of my life untouched by all this misery. “What about you? You won’t even follow your dreams. You’re letting your mother dictate your life and your choices. Your future hinges on the outcome of a contest. How can you judge me?”

Hurt flashes across Emmitt’s face. “That isn’t the same thing.”

“It’s just as bad,” I say, wiping my cheeks hastily. “Maybe I’m running away, but at least I’m following my dreams. You’d rather sit by idly.”

Emmitt’s jaw tenses, his lips firmed. “I’m not sitting by idly. My mother is just like you—she sees things on the outside as a distraction. It would just be another thing to come between us.”

“You keep saying she and I are so similar—but how could you ever think that I’d force you to give up your dreams for mine?” My voice cracks, and we both wince. “I would never do that, and she wouldn’t, either. I saw the way she was looking at you that night. She loves you. She would understand if you took the time to explain. You’re not giving her enough credit.”