But part of me had always still been somewhere else.
In my inbox.
In my numbers.
In my boss’s approval.
In the next chance to prove I deserved the seat I’d already earned.
After everything that happened, some of that loosened.
Not because I became less ambitious.
Because I became less hungry for the wrong people’s permission.
About eight months after I started the new job, Daniel asked if Emily and I would join him and his mother for dinner.
I almost said no out of nerves.
Emily said yes before I could overthink it.
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So one Friday evening, we drove to Evelyn’s home on the edge of the city.
Not the gaudy mansion of childhood fantasies.
Not flashy at all.
Beautiful, yes.
Large, yes.
But warm.
Books everywhere.
Family photos.
A kitchen that smelled like roasted chicken and rosemary.
A piano in the sitting room with sheet music still open.
