I can’t stop a little disbelieving laugh from falling out of my mouth. Even though I heard the doctor loud and clear, it’s still hard to comprehend. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours—hell, longer than that—in a pit of anxiety, convinced I was going to die, but the way Dr. Landers is talking about this cranial thing, he’s making it sound like it’s manageable compared to my worst fears.

“What exactly does that mean?” my mother asks, voicing the question before I can.

“It means there’s an abnormal buildup of pressure in the cerebrospinal fluid surrounding Hannah’s brain,” he explains. “We’ll need to do further tests to understand the underlying cause, but it’s a condition we can manage with medication, potential surgical intervention, and careful monitoring.”

A million more questions are buzzing in my mind, but relief is swirling so thick in my chest that I can’t find the words or get them out even if I could. Dr. Landers chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder as he gives me an understanding look.

“I know it’s overwhelming. We’ll take this step by step. Right now, the most important thing is that you’re stable.”

My parents and Declan pepper him with a few more questions about how best to take care of me, and he answers them all patiently. He checks my vitals and leaves the room, and it’s not until he’s gone that the relief fully washes over me. A sob comes tumbling out of me, and Declan wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest. When I glance up, my mother and father have both moved closer to the bed, and the looks of relief on their faces crack something open in me. I reach for their hands, and both of them take one of mine.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say quietly, and although concern flashes in their expressions, neither of them says anything. That’s good, because I need to get this all out while I still have the courage to say it, while we’re still in this vulnerable moment. “I don’t want to continue with law school or be a lawyer.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air, and my mother’s brows furrow, her head tilting slightly.

“You don’t?” she says, genuine confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

“I want to open a yoga studio,” I tell her, my voice growing stronger with each word. As much as I’ve fantasized about telling my parents exactly that, I never once thought I would actually go through with it. But somehow, just saying the words makes the little flame of courage in my chest burn brighter.