Allow me to share with you a journey—a personal odyssey that transformed the trajectory of my life.

As a young girl, my dream was to be financially affluent, successful in the eyes of the world. So, I took what seemed to be the conventional path. I pursued a degree in economics, immersing myself in the intricacies of markets and investments, and subsequently delving into the world of investment management.

For a while, I thrived in this environment. The numbers, the strategies, the pursuit of financial success—it all seemed like a manifestation of the dream I had held for so long. But then life, as it often does, threw a curveball. My grandmother, the wise matriarch who had raised me, departed from this world. In her absence, the static path I had been treading suddenly felt devoid of meaning.

Grief has a way of recalibrating one’s priorities. As I navigated the depths of loss, I found myself reassessing the very fabric of my existence. It became apparent that the pursuit of wealth, as narrowly defined by society, was not enough.

The dream I had once deferred resurfaced with an undeniable urgency. It was the dream to write, to weave stories, and to share the essence of the human experience through the power of words. It was a calling that had lingered in the recesses of my soul, patiently awaiting acknowledgment.

And so, I embarked on a courageous journey to follow the call of the written word, even if it meant diverging from the well-trodden path. Leaving the realm of investment management, I ventured into the uncharted territories of storytelling.

May my story be a testament to the transformative power of following one’s calling, even when the path diverges from the expected.