Page 40 of Flipping the Script

"That sounds perfect." Solen squeezed her hand. "Though I should warn you—I'm planning to celebrate your award properly. There may be enthusiasm involved."

The elevator opened onto the hotel lobby, marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers. Quinn felt lighter than she had in months, the weight of performance finally lifted from her shoulders. Outside, the city sparkled with Friday night energy, couples and groups moving between restaurants and clubs with the easy confidence of people known exactly where they belonged.

"Quinn?" Solen paused as they reached the street.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to go off-script tonight."

Quinn looked down at their joined hands, then back at Solen's face, warm and open in the streetlight. Six months ago, the idea of improvising anything—professionally or personally—would have sent her into analytical overdrive. Tonight, stepping into uncertainty with someone she trusted felt like the most natural choice in the world.

"Thank you for showing me that the best stories happen when we collaborate," she replied.

They walked into the night together, Quinn's Golden Horizon Award tucked under one arm while Solen's compass necklace caught the city lights. For the first time in either oftheir lives, they both knew exactly where they were heading: toward whatever authentic story they would write together, one unscripted moment at a time.