Page 300 of Ruthless Knot

And maybe—just maybe—learning to be happy.

The G-Wagon speeds toward Juilliard, toward my recital practice, toward whatever "business" awaits us afterward.

Toward a future that shouldn't exist but does anyway.

And I let myself smile.

Not the manic grin I use as armor.

Not the sharp expression I deploy when I want people to back off.

Just... a smile.

Small.

Private.

Genuine.

The expression of someone who's starting to believe that maybe she deserves this after all.

F.I.N