Chapter 9 - The Garden of Free Will

Spring had finally arrived in Cambridge, painting the historic academic courtyards in brilliant shades of emerald green and pale gold.
The courtyard behind Meadow’s department building was alive with the chatter of young researchers, students sharing coffee on wooden benches, and the soft rustle of ancient oak trees swaying in the gentle breeze of the English Channel.
Meadow walked down the stone pathway, her leather briefcase in one hand, her face upturned to catch the warm afternoon sunlight. For the first time in her life, the sun didn't feel like a ninety-seven-degree burden she had to endure while wearing a suffocating costume to pay off a debt.
It just felt like warmth.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a courier notice or a press inquiry. It was a message from Julian.
“Hey, boss. The BBC just called. They want a follow-up interview on your municipal water purification model, but they specifically requested to focus on the chemistry rather than your family drama. Want me to confirm?”
Meadow stopped walking, a soft laugh escaping her lips. She tapped out a quick reply:
“Confirm. Science is the only headline worth printing.”
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She slid her phone back into her pocket and continued walking toward the faculty lounge, where a fresh pot of black coffee was waiting.
She didn't look back over her shoulder. She didn't need to. The past was a closed ledger, filed away in a dusty archive she would never open again. Her future was wide open, bright, and completely unwritten by anyone else’s hand.