nne

rmation popped up on my screen - my resignat

e words. No prefix. No su

number - a ritual I had maintained for years to feel connected to her. Bu

ked up on the

aid. "It's m

with a hint of teasing. "Corinne Sargent? I

end from college and the co-founde

-to-day operations, remaining only as the silent

e inside out. "Casey, long tim

you finally leave that hockey-puck-fo

aid, avoiding a direct a

." No he

month. I need a pass. The kind t

ey's voice was low, filled with a suppressed exc

. "I just took a long

er slot as a special guest from Nexus if you

p a low profile for now," I replied.

email you the e-ticket. We have to ge

felt good to have a

r my future felt clearer. The Ap

it in the drawer. Three times. I was weaning myself off her like a smoker throwing away a pack of cigarettes. T

fifteen-minute chat. Then I drafted a pitch deck for Casey. Nothing fancy, just key slides: the data, the correlation, the payof

ked me where the remote was or what was for dinner. I was just a person in a kitchen, drinking coffe

yal - it felt like a choice. Not a choice against Lily. A choice for myself. That was the part I couldn't explain to anyon

inger hovered over Lily's contact photo. I could already hear her impatien

put the

wean myself off my concern for

But a mother who wasn't respected couldn

pened my laptop and began downloading g

were more comforting than

lyzing trends. My brain fired on all cylinders, and that

uld potentially upend traditional defensive strategies. My f

omeone's wife, not someone'

the e-ticket from Casey.

ticket: Corinne Sargent. N

didn't feel the old pinch in my chest - that tight, waiting ache I used to car

her laptop. She was a sweet old woman who

connection made me feel t