After I received the preliminary approval receipt, I went to the data archive room.
Handing over the observation logs was the second step of leaving the station.
The archive room was filled with the smell of old paper and desiccant.
I walked to the deepest iron cabinet.
I took out the key and opened the cabinet that belonged to me.
Inside were more than seventy neatly stacked observation logs, and hundreds of hand-drawn star maps.
I took them out one by one and placed them into a cardboard box.
Each cover had Adrian's and my names written on it.
For the past seven years, I had been his assistant.
All original survey data, calibration records, and night observation schedules were kept by me.
Now, I had to return everything to the station.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
I carried the box to the door and was just about to leave.
When I heard voices coming from the half-open door of the adjacent dome control room.
It was Sam Clark's voice, the project lead.
"Adrian, Clara's orbital verification and faint-object filtering over the past few years shouldn't only be listed as co-authorship. For this asteroid discovery, her data comparison was crucial. It's one thing to give the naming rights to Lily, but not even first authorship to Clara—don't you think that's too much?"
I stopped walking.
Through the door, I heard Adrian flicking his lighter.
It was a habit of his when he was thinking or irritated.
"Sam, you're overthinking it."
Adrian's voice was flat, carrying an almost natural indifference.
"She's too used to following me. If I give her too high a position, she'll lose sight of herself. Besides, her work could be done by a skilled intern."
Sam sighed.
"You can't say that. Clara's mood seems off this time. She might actually leave."
Adrian let out a soft laugh.
"She can't leave here. If she leaves my research team, all those sleepless years of hers will be wasted. The research world is small. No one wants a thirty-year-old woman who left a core project without even independent authorship. When she's done making a scene, she'll come back on her own."
I stood outside the door.
The edge of the box pressed painfully into my palm.
For the past three years, more than once, I had handed Adrian my research proposal on asteroid cluster orbital evolution.
Every time, he only read a few pages before closing it.
"Clara, your fundamentals aren't strong enough yet. Don't rush to work independently. Focus on my project first. If you go out now, you'll only become a joke in the field."
Back then, I thought it was strictness, or protection.
Only today did I realize he wasn't afraid I would fall, he was afraid I would fly away.
He broke my trajectory just so I would always remain the one closest to him, yet never allowed to have a name of my own.
I didn't push the door open to argue.
There was no need anymore.
I held the box and turned toward the duty desk in the main hall.
I placed the box on the desk.
"Leo, these are my seven years of original records and schedules. Please verify them and sign my departure checklist."
The young researcher, Leo Turner, looked at the entire box of my life's work.
He opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something.
But in the end, he said nothing.
He silently counted everything and signed his name.
While Leo was checking the contents, I looked at the star map on the wall.
It was a compilation of all celestial bodies discovered at our station.
Next to every light point was the name of its discoverer.
Except mine was nowhere to be found.
I had been a shadow for seven years, used to adjusting his trajectory in the dark, forgetting that shadows could not emit light.
Leo handed me the signed checklist.
"Ms. Reed, are you really leaving?"
His voice was very low.
"Mr. Foster… he wasn't thinking straight."
I took the checklist, folded it neatly and put it into my pocket.
"He isn't confused. He knows exactly what he's doing better than anyone."
I turned and walked toward the end of the corridor.
My heels clicked sharply against the terrazzo floor.
Each step was steady.
I didn't need anyone to pity me.
I was only glad that I had finally woken up.
I stood outside the control room, the edge of the archive box digging painfully into my palm.
Inside were seven years of original records.
I once thought those dense lines of data would take me closer to the stars.
But they had only been ropes Adrian used to keep me trapped.
In the end, I didn't go in.
I handed the archive box to the duty researcher and turned to print my final departure checklist.
