Winston Hills, Sydney — August 31st, 2008.
Evening, around 6:30 PM.
The living room was quiet except for the occasional clack of plastic against plastic.
Daniel sat cross-legged on the carpet, knees already sore, as Ethan handed him bright blue and red Lego bricks one by one.
The tower they were building was oddly lopsided, leaning ever so slightly, but Ethan called it "a castle" and that made it real.
Claire was in the kitchen, humming some old songs, washing dishes. The sound of water running and cups clinking played like a background score. It was a domestic scene—quiet and simple. And Daniel felt like a stranger in it.
Ethan's small hand tugged his sleeve. "Daddy, what do you do at work?"
Daniel blinked. "What?"
"You're always gone. Do you fight bad guys?" Ethan grinned, revealing that one front tooth still hadn't come in.
Daniel smiled, but it faltered too quickly. "No, buddy. I'm not that cool."
"You come home tired," Ethan said. "Like….really tired. Mum says you're a hero though. She said that you work so hard for us."
Daniel looked into his son's eyes. There was so much trust in his eyes, as if nothing in the world could break that.
And at that moment, Daniel wanted to believe it too. That he was the man they thought he was. A man who works hard for them.
He picked up a Lego brick and added it to the tower without looking. It slipped, crooked. He adjusted it.
"I do what I can," he said quietly. "That's all."
Ethan nodded as if that answered everything. He added a green block. "Do you ever have dreams, Daddy?"
The words hit him in a strange way. His dreams lately had been murky—flashes of noise, laughter that didn't sound like his, crowded rooms he didn't remember entering, bruises that made no sense. His body remembered things his mind didn't.
"I think so," Daniel said, choosing his words carefully. "But I don't always remember them."
Ethan nodded again. "I had a dream that I was a pirate. But I was very scared too."
"That sounds about right," Daniel said. "Dreams can be confusing."
"Were you ever scared?" Ethan asked.
Daniel paused.
"All the time," he whispered.
The water in the kitchen stopped. Claire called out, "Tea's ready!"
Ethan jumped to his feet, knocking over the tower by accident. He gasped. "Oops."
Daniel stared at the broken pile of blocks. For a second, it reminded him of something—a half-built identity, constructed carefully every day, collapsing with the smallest bump.
"It's alright," Daniel said softly. "We can build it again."
Later, while Ethan napped and Claire folded laundry upstairs, Daniel stood in front of the bathroom mirror. His hands gripping the sink edge like he was bracing for an earthquake.
He leaned closer, searching his own face. Nothing looked different. But there was a flicker of something in his own eyes.
A faint unfamiliarity, like someone had borrowed his body while he slept and returned it slightly wrong.
He turned the tap on, splashed cold water across his face. He wanted to snap out of it—whatever it was. Exhaustion or stress. The doctor's words still echoed in his mind.
"Further assessment."
He shook his head and looked up again. His reflection stared back. Still him. Always him… right?