CHAPTER 23 - The Fires we Choose

Geneva shimmered with late summer gold, and with it came a proposal—one that could redefine everything.

At an elegant rooftop gala hosted by the Global Women's Equity Network, Melissa delivered a keynote that left the audience spellbound. She spoke of bridges, of access, of how education had reshaped her—had saved her, even. She weaved in stories from Dublin, from Lagos, from Tivland.

She didn't realize she had electrified the room.

Afterward, a powerful diplomat—Ambassador Claudine Perrot—approached her with a proposition.

"We want to nominate you to chair the UN's new Commission on Girls in Conflict Zones. It's a five-year tenure. Your voice could move nations."

The room blurred.

Melissa accepted the card, smiled gracefully, but her mind was already spiralling. Five years. The position would require travel to the world's most volatile regions—Sudan, Afghanistan, Gaza, Syria. David had just expanded AEI's Geneva office, and Aria was only three.

She didn't sleep that night.

The next morning, she watched David in the living room, bouncing Aria in his lap as he read her a story in Tiv.

She sat beside him.

"I've been offered something. Something big."

He turned slowly. Listened as she explained.

When she finished, he was quiet. Thoughtful.

Then he said, "Do you want it for the world? Or for yourself?"

Melissa didn't answer right away. She stared out the window.

"Both," she finally said.

He nodded. "Then we'll find a way to make it work. Even if it bends us. As long as it doesn't break us."

Later that day, they walked by the lake. Aria toddled ahead, trying to chase ducks.

Melissa slipped her hand into David's.

"I want to say yes. But I'm afraid."

"You've always done your best work on the edge of fear."

"And us?"

He kissed the back of her hand.

"We'll weather this. Together."

A month later, Melissa stood before the United Nations General Assembly in New York.

She wore a dark navy pantsuit with gold embroidery at the cuffs—a quiet homage to Tivland. Her speech was powerful, filled with urgency and grace, and it rippled through diplomatic circles like a wave.

"Girls are not collateral damage of war. They are the architects of tomorrow. Educate one, and you plant peace for a generation."

It was a triumph.

But the weight of it came when she returned to Geneva and found Aria in tears.

"She missed her mummy," David said gently, carrying their daughter to her arms.

Melissa's throat tightened.

"I'll find the balance," she whispered.

David nodded, but in his eyes, she saw the question neither of them could answer yet: At what cost?

That weekend, they escaped to the mountains. A rented chalet in the Swiss Alps, no phones, no meetings.

They hiked, they cooked together, they made love under a sky full of stars and possibilities.

Lying beside the fire one evening, Melissa traced David's jaw with her fingertips.

"Does it scare you—how much I need both? The work and the love?"

"No," he said. "What scares me is if you ever stopped needing one."

She smiled. "Then promise me something."

"Anything."

"If I ever become so driven I forget how to just be… remind me. Pull me back."

He leaned in, forehead to hers. "You do the same for me."

As the fire crackled and the snow outside turned everything soft and quiet, Melissa realized that love isn't just about passion or peace. Sometimes it's about holding steady through the storms we choose.

And she had chosen both fire and forever.

Spring returned to Geneva like a familiar lover—gentle, fragrant, and full of quiet promises.

Melissa stood in the garden of the AEI-Girls Academy, the newest school they had helped build just outside the city. Aria, now nearly five, skipped through the flowerbeds with other children as sunlight painted her hair in gold.

This was no ordinary school.

The curriculum combined Western pedagogy with African philosophies—community, storytelling, oral tradition. Children were encouraged to speak not just in French or English, but also in Swahili, Yoruba, Igbo, and Tiv. Melissa had personally ensured the library held books from all over the Global South. David's team had secured scholarships for refugee girls from Sudan, Eritrea, and the Congo.

It was a dream made real. One forged in fire.

David stepped beside her now, holding a tablet showing the latest donor pledges. But his eyes remained on Aria.

"She's growing fast," he said.

"Too fast," Melissa murmured. "Some days I wish I could pause time."

He put an arm around her waist. "But you wouldn't. You were made to move forward."

They stood together in silence.

Later that night, Melissa began drafting a new initiative—Project Myrrh—focused on maternal education in post-conflict regions. David, sitting at his desk across from hers, looked up mid-email.

"You realize what we're doing?"

"What?"

"We're not just building schools. We're planting worlds. For girls who've never been told they could take up space."

Melissa paused, fingers hovering above her keyboard.

Then she smiled.

"Let's plant more."