But it belonged to work I had chosen, performed, and completed in my own name.

I called Leah and told her I’d been paid.

“Are we celebrating?” she asked.

“With the most expensive grocery-store cake available.”

We ate it in my studio, standing over the plans like two teenagers hiding from a party downstairs.

There were mistakes in the early drafts, and I knew I’d have to revise them.

For the first time in years, a mistake felt like something useful rather than proof I wasn’t capable.

Colton sent me flowers that afternoon after hearing about the project from a mutual friend.