Willow did not experience the decision as a leap.
It took shape gradually, more like a narrowing than a break, the quiet removal of pieces that no longer fit. Over several evenings, she found herself returning to the same spot at the dining table after Zana was asleep and the house had settled into its nighttime rhythm. The laptop stayed open in front of her, a yellow legal pad resting just off to the side, its pages filling with notes that did not yet resemble a plan so much as a careful sorting of what needed to be left behind.
She did not start with ambition. She started with limits.
Each night, she crossed out something she once would have chased without hesitation. Ideas that depended on speed to justify themselves. Models that required constant visibility or borrowed authority to function. She paused often, pen hovering, not because she was unsure, but because she had learned the cost of moving faster than the consequences could keep up.
