Signed the lease today. Not one of those furnished showrooms—an old building with peeling paint and pipes that groan now and then. But the windows face south, and the sunlight actually gets in. The three of us stood in the middle of the living room, no one saying a word. The youngest crouched down, touched the floor, and said, 'It's cold—we'll need a rug.' Kyle coughed into his fist, pretending to check out the windows. I wasn't looking at them, but I knew we were all thinking the same thing—from today on, no one can bang on our door at midnight and tell us to pack up and get out. The key was burning in my hand, and damn if it didn't feel heavier than any gold medal. Don't talk to me about 'new beginnings.' This is an ending where it's finally our call.