My throat tightened. I took a step into the room, feeling the weight of the last two weeks in my chest.
“I almost threw it away,” I admitted, because it was the truth and because pretending otherwise felt pointless in front of someone who had seen straight through me the first time.
She nodded once. “Most people would’ve,” she said. “That’s why I knew you were the right choice.”
I stood there, the air in the room cool against my skin, the scent of coffee faint in the background. I thought of the jacket leaving my shoulders. The sting of cold on my arms. Mr. Harlan’s voice and the humiliation in my stomach. The fear that had followed me home and stayed.
I looked at her, really looked.
“You didn’t just change my job,” I said quietly. “You changed how I see people.”
Her expression softened, just slightly, as if that mattered more than any title on paper.
“Good,” she said. “Then the test worked.”
For the first time in weeks, the tightness in my chest loosened.
I inhaled, slow and deep, and felt something I hadn’t felt
