Selina didn’t realise how often she apologised — for taking up space, for asking questions, for needing help, for simply being alive — until the day she caught herself saying sorry to a chair.
It was after her shift. She’d bumped it lightly while walking past, whispered an automatic apology, and then froze mid‑step.
She stared at the chair. The chair stared back, silently judging her life choices.
And then she laughed — a real laugh, one that bubbled up from somewhere deep and warm.
She wasn’t laughing at the chair. She was laughing at herself — at the quiet, constant way she had shrunk her existence to make room for everyone else.
That evening, she walked home with a strange new determination. The sky was painted in soft pinks and purples, the kind of sunset that made Brisbane look like a postcard. She breathed it in, letting the colours settle inside her.
She didn’t apologise to the footpath when she tripped. She didn’t apologise to the bus driver for paying with coins. She didn’t apologise to the neighbour she passed in the hallway.
She simply existed. Fully. Quietly. Unapologetically.
Inside her apartment, she placed her bag down without saying sorry to the table. She checked her basil plant — thriving, as always — and smiled at it like it was an old friend.
She felt different. Not louder. Not bolder. Just… present.
She opened her pantry, wanting to cook something that matched her mood — something comforting but confident, simple but satisfying. She found chickpeas, garlic, spices, and a lemon.
Perfect.
Tonight she would make Golden Lemon‑Garlic Chickpea Sauté, a dish she’d invented during a week when she needed strength more than flavour. It was bright, bold, and unapologetically delicious.
As she cooked, she didn’t rush. She didn’t shrink. She didn’t apologise to the pan when it sizzled too loudly.
She moved with ease, with intention, with a quiet pride that felt new but right.
She plated the dish, sat at her table, and took a slow bite. Bright. Warm. Strong.
She realised something important: She didn’t need permission to exist. She didn’t need to apologise for taking up space. She didn’t need to shrink herself to survive.
She could be here — fully, wholly, loudly if she wanted — and the world would not collapse.
She exhaled, long and steady, letting the truth settle into her bones.
Tonight, she wasn’t sorry. Tonight, she was Selina — whole and present.
And that was enough.
RECIPE — GOLDEN LEMON‑GARLIC CHICKPEA SAUTÉ
Bright, bold, cheap, and perfect for evenings when you finally stop apologising.
Ingredients
1 can chickpeas
2 cloves garlic (or garlic powder)
Juice of ½ lemon
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cumin
Salt & pepper
2 tbsp oil
A handful of spinach (optional)
Method
Drain and rinse chickpeas.
Heat oil in a pan and sauté garlic until fragrant.
Add chickpeas, paprika, cumin, salt, and pepper.
Cook until golden and slightly crispy.
Add lemon juice and stir well.
Toss in spinach if you have it and cook until wilted.
Notes
Costs under $3 for two servings.
Serve with rice, couscous, or flatbread.
Tastes like confidence in a bowl.
and then Add to home screen.