Walking to the bathroom, I locked the door - a pointless habit in an empty apartment, but somehow offering me comfort.

The mirror reflected what I wanted others to see - composed, confident, capable.

The image they’d drilled into me: “A strong woman embodies confidence and grace.” But underneath… God, I was tired of being strong all the time.

The weight carried by every “first woman to” title, every raised eyebrow from male colleagues, every whispered “she must have slept her way there” sat heavy on my shoulders.

Sophia kept saying the future isn’t scary, but what did that mean when every step forward felt like a tightrope walk between professional ambition and personal desire?