I shook my head.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Then don't decide tonight.”
I started crying.
She held me.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “Your father was proud of how hard you worked.”
I wiped my face.
“I'm tired, Mom.”
“I know.”
“I don't know if I can keep doing this.”
She took my hand.
“Then we'll figure out what help you need.”
It wasn't an inspiring speech.
She didn't tell me to become the world's greatest engineer.
She didn't claim my father would be disappointed if I stopped.
She simply reminded me that I didn't have to make an impossible decision alone.
I stayed in school.
Reduced my course load temporarily.
Sought support.
Then gradually returned to research.
After graduation, I joined a university project examining thermal control in compact electronic systems.
The work wasn't glamorous.
We spent long days measuring temperatures, testing material behavior, and trying to improve systems that already worked reasonably well.
But I was fascinated by one recurring problem.
As electronic devices became smaller and more powerful, they generated heat in increasingly confined spaces.
Active cooling added complexity.
Fans could fail.
Pumps required power.
And some environments simply couldn't accommodate large cooling systems.
Passive thermal solutions existed, but each involved limitations.
I began studying ways to move heat through carefully designed internal channels without relying on continuous powered circulation.
It was difficult.
Most of my early ideas were impractical.
Some were too expensive to manufacture.
Others couldn't survive repeated thermal cycling.
And several appeared promising in simulation but disappointed us during testing.
Still, I couldn't stop thinking about them.
Then I received an opportunity that changed my life.