Joanna Riggs stood at the center of the Beech Hill Museum, surrounded by towering exhibits of ancient Mayan artifacts. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the stone carvings and glass cases, the room as silent as the history that enveloped her. She had been the museum's curator for years, but tonight, everything felt heavier. The weight of her career, her ambition, and the unresolved tensions in her life pressed down on her like the ancient stones themselves.
She walked slowly past the displays, her fingers brushing lightly over a Mayan jade mask encased in glass. The museum had been her life's work. She had spent years building its reputation, expanding the collections, and securing rare artifacts. But now, there was a restlessness inside her that she couldn't shake.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind her. Turning, she saw Henrik Van der Hune, the museum's resident epigrapher, approaching with his usual calm demeanor.
"Joanna, you're here late," Henrik said, adjusting his glasses as he looked at her with concern. "Is everything alright?"
Joanna sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against a display. "I've just been thinking... about the exhibit. About everything."
Henrik gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know the past few months have been difficult, but you've done incredible work here. The museum wouldn't be what it is today without you."
Joanna nodded, but her gaze drifted to the window, where the city lights twinkled in the distance. "It's not just the museum, Henrik. It's me. I've spent my whole life chasing after something, and now that I'm here... I don't know if it's what I really wanted."
Henrik tilted his head, his scholarly curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
She took a deep breath. "I wanted to be someone. I wanted my work to matter, to leave a mark on history. But now, I'm starting to wonder if I've lost myself along the way. Have I sacrificed too much for the sake of ambition?"
Henrik's expression softened. "You've always been passionate, Joanna. And yes, ambition can be a double-edged sword. But you can't discount the impact you've made."
Joanna shook her head. "But at what cost? I barely have a personal life. My relationships have crumbled. I've put this museum above everything else, and now I'm standing here, questioning if it was worth it."
Henrik was quiet for a moment before speaking gently. "What are you really searching for, Joanna? Is it recognition? Fulfillment?"
She let out a bitter laugh. "I used to think it was about making a name for myself. But now, I'm not so sure. Maybe I'm just looking for some kind of... meaning."
Henrik regarded her thoughtfully. "Meaning comes in many forms. Sometimes, we find it in our work, sometimes in the people we meet, or the choices we make. The key is figuring out what matters most to you."
Joanna looked down, her voice softer now. "But what if I don't know anymore?"
Henrik placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Then maybe it's time to step back and take a good look at your life. Not as the curator of Beech Hill, but as Joanna Riggs."
The following morning, Joanna arrived at the museum early, but something felt different as she stepped through the doors. The usual sense of pride and accomplishment was absent, replaced by a hollow ache in her chest. She had always thought that success would fill her, but now that she was standing at the pinnacle of her career, she realized how much she had neglected the other parts of her life.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was an email from the museum's board of directors, reminding her of the upcoming gala in honor of the new Mayan exhibit. The exhibit had been her brainchild, her triumph. She had worked tirelessly to secure the rarest pieces, negotiate with collectors, and organize the event. But now, as she stared at the screen, she felt a wave of exhaustion.
She closed the email without responding.
As the day wore on, Joanna tried to focus on her tasks, but her mind kept drifting back to the conversation she had with Henrik the night before. What was she searching for? What did she want?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her office door. It was Alejandro del Rio, an archaeologist from Mexico who had been working with the museum on the exhibit.
"Joanna," he greeted her with his characteristic warmth, though his eyes held a hint of concern. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
She forced a smile. "Just a lot on my mind."
Alejandro sat down across from her desk, his presence a steadying force. "You've been working non-stop since I've been here. Maybe it's time you took a break."
Joanna leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair. "I can't. Not now. The gala's in two weeks, and there's still so much to do."
Alejandro gave her a knowing look. "The gala will be fine. But you... you seem like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."
Joanna sighed, her defenses lowering. "I don't know how to stop, Alejandro. I've been doing this for so long—chasing after success, trying to prove myself—that I don't even know what I want anymore."
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "You're not alone in that. I've met many people in this field who've lost themselves in their work. It's easy to do when the stakes are high, and you're passionate about what you do."
She looked at him, her frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface. "But I thought this was supposed to fulfill me. I thought I'd feel complete when I got here. Instead, I feel... empty."
Alejandro leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Joanna, you've achieved incredible things. But maybe it's time to ask yourself if this is truly what you want, or if it's just what you thought you should want."
She blinked, his words sinking in. "What if I don't have the answer?"
He smiled softly. "Then maybe you need to give yourself permission to find it."
That evening, Joanna found herself standing in front of the mirror in her apartment, staring at her reflection. She was dressed in the usual professional attire she wore to the museum, but for the first time in a long while, she felt disconnected from the person staring back at her.
She walked over to her desk, where a stack of papers and research sat waiting for her attention. Normally, she would dive right into it, losing herself in the work, but tonight... she couldn't.
Instead, she pulled out an old box from the bottom drawer of her desk. Inside were photographs from her college days, letters from old friends, and mementos from a time when her life had felt full of possibility. As she sifted through them, she came across a letter she had written to herself during her first year as a curator. It was a letter full of dreams and ambition, a reminder of why she had chosen this path in the first place.
But as she read the letter, she felt a pang of sadness. Somewhere along the way, she had lost sight of the girl who had written those words. That girl had wanted to make a difference, to explore the world and its history, but she had also wanted love, connection, and a sense of belonging. Somewhere along the way, Joanna had sacrificed those things for the sake of her career.
She placed the letter back in the box, her heart heavy with realization.
The next day, Joanna made her way to the museum with a new resolve. She couldn't keep going on like this, pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't. As she walked into her office, she was greeted by Henrik, who had sensed her shift in energy.
"Joanna, you look... different," he observed.
She nodded, a small but determined smile on her face. "I've been thinking about what you said the other night. About meaning, and what I'm really searching for."
Henrik watched her carefully, sensing the gravity of the moment. "And?"
"I've spent so much time focusing on the museum, on building my career, that I've forgotten how to live. I've put off relationships, neglected my friends, and pushed aside the things that make me happy outside of work. I thought that if I just achieved enough, everything else would fall into place. But I was wrong."
Henrik nodded in understanding. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet," Joanna admitted. "But I think it's time I start making room for more than just the museum. I need to figure out what I really want."
Henrik smiled softly. "I think that's a good start."
As she left her office to check on the progress of the exhibit, she felt a lightness she hadn't felt in years. The work was still important, but it didn't have to consume her. She could find a balance, and maybe—just maybe—she could rediscover the parts of herself that she had lost along the way.
Later that week, as the gala approached, Joanna found herself more at ease. She still cared about the success of the exhibit, but she no longer felt like her entire self-worth was tied to it.
On the night of the gala, she stood in the middle of the grand hall, watching as guests marveled at the Mayan artifacts she had worked so hard to acquire. She felt a sense of pride, but it was different now—calmer, more grounded.
Alejandro approached her, holding two glasses of champagne. "You did it," he said, handing her one of the glasses. "The exhibit is a success."
Joanna smiled, accepting the glass. "It is. But for the first time, I'm realizing that it's not the only thing that matters."
Alejandro raised his glass in a toast. "To new beginnings, then."
"To new beginnings," Joanna echoed, clinking her glass against his.
They stood together, watching as the gala unfolded around them, but for the first time in a long time, Joanna wasn't thinking about the future or the past. She was simply present, enjoying the moment.
As the night wore on, she felt a quiet contentment settle over her. She didn't have all the answers, but she was beginning to understand that it was okay not to. Life was a journey, not a destination, and she was ready to start living it for herself—not just for her career or her ambitions, but for the things that truly mattered.
And for the first time in years, Joanna Riggs felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.
The next morning, Joanna stood outside the museum, watching as the sun rose over Washington D.C. The light reflected off the windows of Beech Hill, casting a warm glow over the building she had dedicated so much of her life to.
But now, as she stood there, she felt something new—a sense of peace. She had spent so long searching for what she thought she wanted, only to realize that the answer wasn't in success or recognition. It was in finding balance, in making space for joy and connection.
She smiled to herself, ready to face whatever came next.
Because now, she knew exactly what she wanted.
