Starting over was not easy.
There were long nights when I sat alone, hands aching, eyes tired, doubting whether I could truly do this.
Some days, I balanced making bags with raising my daughter, sneaking moments to sew between bedtime stories and early morning breakfasts.
I remember the thrill of my first order, the tiny bell above the shop door as a local customer stopped in just to say how much they loved the smell of leather and the feel of the bags.
Each small success built my confidence, one brick at a time.
There were mistakes too, bags that did not turn out right, months when sales were slow. But I learned to see those moments not as failures but as part of the journey.
The dream grew, slowly but surely, stitched together with patience and persistence.
