The weeks that followed moved with purpose, pressing forward whether Willow was ready or not, but she found that she was meeting them instead of bracing. Each day arrived full, not heavy. Busy, but not chaotic. There was no longer a sense that she was being pulled in opposing directions or negotiating which part of herself deserved more attention. Everything she touched belonged to the same life now, and that alone made the pace feel survivable.
The office took shape first.
Once the lease was signed, it stopped being an idea and became something that required decisions she could feel in her hands. Furniture had to be chosen. Equipment ordered. Layouts tested and reconsidered. Willow discovered quickly that these choices mattered more than she had expected, not because of how the space would look, but because of how people would exist inside it. She imagined bodies settling into chairs, voices lowering, silences stretching without discomfort.
