Outside, rain tapped the window like a stranger asking to be let in. Inside, my chest tightened around a truth I couldn't name yet: This isn't working.
I'd done everything right. Woke early. Said yes. Checked the boxes. Smiled when I wanted to scream.
But the life I'd built sat on my skin like someone else's coatfamiliar, but never mine.
That morning, I canceled a meeting I'd spent weeks preparing for. Not because I was sick. Not because something urgent came up.
But because, for the first time, I couldn't pretend I wanted to be there.
The silence after I hung up was louder than any alarm. My breath came fast, shallowlike I'd stepped off a cliff and was still waiting to fall.
And then, beneath the panic, something else: relief. Sharp, sweet, terrifying.
Who would I be if I stopped chasing the person I thought I was supposed to become?
I didn't know.
But for the first time in years, I was curious enough to find out.
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