**The Quiet After**

9:05 AM—Woke up to rain. Actual rain in LA, the kind that makes the palm trees look like they’re swaying just to show off. Pulled on that slip dress again—the one I made—and didn’t even check the mirror before leaving.

And here’s the weird part: I didn’t need to.

A month ago, I would’ve agonized—Does it cling weird? Is it too simple?—then changed three times before settling on something safe. Today? I just went.

Because growth isn’t just about bold leaps—it’s about the quiet after, when the dust settles and you realize you’re still standing.

1. I’m learning to trust my own rhythm. Liam’s flight landed at midnight, and instead of waiting up ("I should be there when he gets home!"), I slept. Texted him "Glad you’re back" this morning—no exclamation points, no performative excitement. Just truth. And when he replied "Missed your face", I didn’t spiral (Does he mean it? Should I have waited?). I just smiled.

2. My creativity is becoming intimate. That sketchbook? It’s full of half-started designs now—no pressure to finish, no guilt if I don’t. Just ideas, existing because they can, not because they should. I used to think productivity meant completion. Now? I’m obsessed with the potential of things left open.

3. I’m falling in love with unnoticed moments. October rain in LA is rare, so everyone’s Instagramming it—#LArain, #finally, #wetpavement. But me? I’m just walking. No photos, no stories, just the sound of my dress sticking to my knees and the smell of wet concrete. Ethan didn’t even comment on the dress today—just handed me my coffee with a nod. And for once? I didn’t mind.

Some evolutions don’t need witnesses. They just are—like rain, like quiet mornings, like the space between "I made this" and "That’s enough."

xx Mandy

(P.S. That coffee? Still black. Still perfect. Still mine.)