Page 36 of Chasing the Wild
I'd been terrified on that mountain, lost in a blizzard, separated from everyone, facing the very real possibility of dying alone in the cold. And I'd survived. I'd set up a tent in whiteout conditions and kept myself alive and proven I was stronger than I'd ever believed.
So why was I more terrified now, sitting in my safe apartment, making the "responsible" choice?
Because dying on a mountain would have been quick. This slow death I'd been living for years—this was the real terror. Waking up every day and feeling nothing except the weight of expectations I'd never wanted in the first place.
My hands moved without conscious thought, pulling up a blank document.
Dear Ms. Sorento,
The cursor blinked at me, waiting.
I thought about partnership. About hundred-hour weeks and impossible deadlines and panic attacks in conference rooms. About becoming Belinda in twenty years—bitter and alone. I thought about Sam. About the way he'd looked at me in that tent, like I was brave and strong and exactly enough. About the way he'd kissed me in his cabin, claiming and tender at once. I thought about mountains and clean air and building something that mattered instead of just billing hours.
And I started typing.
I am writing to tender my resignation from Hutchins & Ross, effective immediately. This decision is not made lightly. However, I have come to realize that the life I've been building is not the life I want to live.
God, that felt good to write. To admit. To finally say out loud—even just to myself—that I'd been living the wrong life.
I hope you can understand.
I knew Belinda wouldn't understand. Wouldn't understand walking away from power and prestige and everything she'd spent her life accumulating. Wouldn't understand choosing love over career.
But I understood. Finally, after three weeks of trying to force myself back into a life that didn't fit anymore, I understood.
I didn't want this. I wanted Sam. I wanted mountains. I wanted to wake up without my chest tight with anxiety. I wanted to build a business I was passionate about instead of just surviving one I hated. I wanted to live instead of just exist.
Sincerely, Jessica Madison
My finger hovered over the send button.
This was it. The moment everything changed. The moment I chose myself—really chose myself—for the first time in my adult life.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself.
Then I sat there in the silence of my apartment, and waited to feel regret.
It didn't come.
Instead, I felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Relief.
And underneath that relief, a tiny seed of hope. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe Sam would forgive me for being too scared the first time. Maybe I could fix the worst mistake I'd ever made.
Maybe I could still have everything I'd been too afraid to choose.
Get to Vermont. Tell Sam I love him. Beg him to forgive me. Build a life that doesn't kill me.
Simple. Necessary.
I started packing before I could talk myself out of it.
THE NEXT WEEK PASSEDin a blur of logistics and determination.
I sold most of my furniture to a used dealer for pennies on the dollar. Packed my clothes, books, and essentials into boxes. Gave notice on my apartment, paying the exorbitant lease-breaking fee without flinching.
I went shopping—but not at designer outdoor stores this time. I went to a real outfitter in New Jersey, where a grizzled old man took one look at me and asked, "What are you actually going to be doing?"
