Daniel's Inner World.
The room was the same—same flickering lightbulb, same scuffed floor, small single chair. But this time, Daniel didn't just imagine sitting down. He sat.
Across from him, Danny leaned back with arms crossed, jaw tense, the usual sneer barely there.
"So," Danny said. "You figured it out."
Daniel didn't answer at first. He studied him—same face, same eyes, but worn in a different way. Danny looked…older and more tired somehow.
"Why'd you do it?" Daniel asked, voice low.
Danny let out a dry laugh. "You're asking me that? You built me."
"You wanted to be the perfect husband. Perfect dad. The man who never snapped. Never broke. But humans don't run on fumes, Daniel."
"You hurt people," Daniel said.
Danny didn't deny it. "Yeah. And you left me to carry the weight. Every angry thought, every fear, every failure you buried—I lived in it. I was it."
Daniel swallowed. "I'm sorry."
Danny blinked. Surprised to see him say sorry.
"You ever think I didn't want to be the monster?" He asked "I just wanted us to survive. But you only let me out when you were cornered. Treated me like a dog."
"....."
"I was scared," Daniel admitted. "If I let you in…I thought you'd take over."
Danny leaned forward now. Voice steady. "Then let me in, not to fight, but to be. You think you're whole without your anger? Without the part that says no? That punches back? That survives?"
Daniel looked at his own hands. They were trembling. Then, finally, he said, "Okay."
Not as surrender, but as an invitation.
"I won't bury you again," he said. "But I won't let you run either. We'll stand together now. We'll be something new."
Danny slowly nodded.
Then, as the light flickered overhead, the room faded.
Winston, Sydney.
Morning—7:47 A.M.
Sunlight poured through the kitchen window. Daniel sat at the table with a mug of tea, steam curling towards the light.
The house was quiet. Not the tense silence of pretending everything was fine but actual stillness, peace and earned.
Claire stepped in with a towel on her shoulder. She watched him for a moment. Seeing him smile happily, she sighed.
"Sleep alright?" She asked. As she came towards him.
He nodded. "Yeah. I did."
She smiled, gently. "You were…quieter. No walking at 2 a.m., no disappearing into the night. So that means…?"
He gave a soft laugh. "I think I stayed in."
They both knew what that meant. Their son's laughter echoed from the other room. Reminding them of their old days.
"I still feel him," he admitted. "Not like before. But…he's there."
"That's okay," she said. "So are you "
Daniel looked at her, and saw her not just as a wife, but as a person who stayed with him through his journey.
"I'm sorry I wasn't…whole," he whispered.
She reached across the table, took his hand. "You were carrying more than one man should."
They enjoyed rest of the day playing with their kid and watching movie, to make up with the lost time.
That night, he walked in the restroom. Walked to the mirror. He didn't look like two people anymore. Just one. Human and whole.
Daniel exhaled. And for the first time in years…the day felt like it might last.