Hendricks stood beside me.
Dean Morrison joined us.
Several professors who had taught me over the years gathered around while I held the award at waist height.
Nobody asked me to make the moment look bigger than it was.
Nobody needed to.
When it was over, Dr.
Hendricks handed me a business card with a handwritten number on the back.
“The Harvard investigator who called this morning,” she said.
“He expects your call Monday.”
I stared at it.
“He expects me to call him?”
“Sarah, he personally asked whether we could keep you from accepting another research position before he spoke to you.”
I laughed once, mostly from disbelief.
“I don’t have another research position.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
She touched my shoulder.
“And you don’t need to lead negotiations by explaining how grateful you are that anyone noticed you.
Ask questions.
Understand the project.
Decide whether it fits your goals.
You’re allowed to choose now.”
That sentence stayed with me.
You’re allowed to choose now.
My family had spent years making me feel like every opportunity was something I had to justify receiving.
Dr.
Hendricks was reminding me that achievement could create choices, not debts.
When I finally returned to my family, Dad had recovered enough to act cheerful.
“We made dinner reservations,” he announced.
“Steakhouse downtown.
My treat.
We should celebrate properly.”
Marcus grinned.
“Harvard doctor in the family.
That’s worth a decent dinner.”
Emma looked at me and, for the first time all day, seemed uncomfortable rather than bored.
“Sarah,” she said quietly, “I didn’t know you were doing all that research.”
“I know.”
She swallowed.
“I should’ve.”
It was the first honest thing any of them had said to me since the ceremony ended.
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
Dad gestured toward the exit.
“Come on.
We can talk at dinner.”
I looked at him.
“I’m not going.”
Mom’s eyebrows rose.
“Sarah.”
“The biology department is having a reception.
I told them I’d be there.”
“You can see those people anytime,” Dad said.
I almost answered automatically.
Then I caught myself.
“No,” I said.
“Actually, I can’t.
