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As I walk, I feel a lightness, a loosening of the knots that have taken up permanent residence in my shoulders. The weight of expectations, of proving myself, of chasing the next achievement—it falls away, leaving me feeling unmoored, but also free.

I pass familiar landmarks—the coffee shop where I’ve grabbed countless early morning lattes, the dry cleaners where I’ve dropped off my favorite suits, the gym where I’ve sweat out my frustrations on the treadmill. They feel like markers of a past life, a Rachel that I’m leaving behind.

As I loop back towards my apartment, the low November sun is already starting to set, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. It feels like a promise, a sign of the beauty that’s waiting, just beyond the horizon.

I fish my keys out of my pocket, feeling the weight of them in my hand. They represent stability, security, the life I’ve built. But as I slot the key into the lock, I know that I’m ready to let go, to build something new.

I step into my apartment, the space feeling different somehow, like it belongs to a past version of me. I set my pot plant on the windowsill, a small symbol of growth, of nurturing something beyond myself.

And as I look out at the city skyline, I feel a rush of gratitude, of joy, of pure, unadulterated hope.

NINETEEN

I manage thirty-six hours alone in my condo, rearranging furniture, alphabetizing my books, and giving the whole place, not just a spring clean, but a full four-seasons special before I finally come up for air.

I pull into the driveway of Claire and Richard’s house. Before I can even cut the engine, the front door bursts open and two pint-sized blurs come racing across the lawn.

“Aunt Rachel!” Lily and Anna squeal in unison, their faces lit up with glee. Behind them, my sister Claire emerges, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Rach! What are you doing here? I thought you were…” She trails off as the kids tackle me with hugs the moment I step out of the car.

“Hey, munchkins!” I laugh, scooping them up and spinning them around. “I decided to take a little break from work. Surprise!”

Claire arches an eyebrow, but her smile is warm. “Well, this is the best kind of surprise. Come on in, I just made some chocolate milk.”

Inside, the house looks the same as always—family photos covering the walls, the faint scent of Mom’s lemon bars in the air.

Before I can call out a greeting, Mom appears in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, her face lighting up when she sees me. “Rachel! There you are! I was just saying to Claire I thought I heard your car. You look thin. Are you eating enough?”

I offer her a big smile. “Hi, Mom. I’m fine.”

She clucks her tongue, shaking her head like I’m still a teenager with bad eating habits.

“Busy or not, you need to eat properly. You’re going to wither away to nothing. Come on, sit down. I have some chicken pot pie warming in the oven and leftover lasagna from yesterday. Or I can make you a grilled cheese? You used to love those.”

I shake my head, trying to keep my tone light. “I’m really not hungry, Mom.”

She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing me like she’s trying to read between the lines of my expression. “Nonsense. You never turn down grilled cheese. I’ll just make one and?—”

“Mom.” I reach out and squeeze her arm gently, giving her a reassuring smile. “Really, I’m fine. I just need… I don’t know what I need.”

Anna, who was waiting patiently for her turn to talk, tugs on my hand insistently.

“Aunt Rachel, I got a new Barbie! Wanna see?” Her green eyes dance with excitement.

“You bet I do, sweetheart. Lead the way!”

As Anna scampers off, Lily climbs into my lap, chocolate milk mustache and all. “I missed you, Aunt Rachel,” she says solemnly.

“I missed you too, sweet pea.” I kiss the top of her head, feeling a pang. When was the last time I made time for them like this?

Just then, Anna comes barreling back in, a Disney princess in her hands. “I freeze you!” she growls, making the doll stomp across the table—and straight into Lily’s chocolate milk. The cup tips, sending a wave of brown liquid right into my lap.

“Anna!” Claire gasps, but I’m already laughing.

“It’s okay, no harm done!” I grab a dish towel to mop up the mess, grinning at my Niece. “I think Elsa just wanted to cool off. It’s thirsty work, all that covering the world in ice.”

The kids giggle and I catch Claire watching me, a curious expression on her face. I just smile, a strange sense of lightness bubbling up in my chest. Maybe I needed a splash of chocolate milk to remember what matters. And right now, getting down on the floor for an epic princess picnic with the kids is all that matters in the world.