Marcus talked about Sandra less these days, which somehow hurt even worse. Daniel forced a small smile. Was she any good? No, Marcus said seriously. She kept missing the ball.
Daniel laughed for real this time. sudden and sharp enough it surprised both of them because honestly that sounded exactly like Sandra, terrible at sports, competitive anyway, loud when she lost. The memory hit so vividly Daniel almost forgot to breathe. Marcus noticed immediately. You okay? Daniel nodded too fast.
Yeah, but he wasn't. Some mornings grief felt like drowning slowly in shallow water. Not enough to kill you, just enough to exhaust you every second you stayed alive. The walk to school happened beneath gray skies and sharp cold wind cutting through South Chicago streets. Marcus talked nonstop about a science project while Daniel listened with half his attention trapped somewhere else entirely.
His phone sat heavy in his coat pocket the entire walk. He kept thinking about checking it, which was stupid. Why would she text again? People had emotional conversations at night all the time. Darkness made strangers honest.
Morning usually erased it. But when Marcus disappeared through the school doors and Daniel finally pulled his phone out before work, there it was. One unread message sent at 6:02 a.m. Board meeting in an hour. I already hate everyone. Daniel stared at the screen longer than necessary before a laugh escaped him unexpectedly.
A man walking past glanced at him strangely. Daniel ignored it. Something warm flickered in his chest again. Small, dangerous. He typed back while heading toward the bus stop.
Thought CEOs loved meetings. Her response came instantly. That's propaganda. Daniel shook his head, smiling faintly, before climbing onto the crowded bus downtown. The warehouse smelled like sweat dust and machinery before he even clocked in.
Same as always. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while forklifts screamed somewhere deeper inside the building. Daniel tied on his work gloves silently and headed toward loading inventory. 8 hours of lifting boxes heavy enough to remind his back he wasn't 25 anymore. Yo, Brooks," a voice called.
Daniel turned to see Jerome carrying a clipboard and coffee. Jerome had worked beside him for almost 6 years and somehow still managed to act alive before noon. You look less dead today, Jerome said suspiciously. "Should I be worried?" Daniel snorted softly. "Mind your business.
That bad, huh?" Jerome smirked before lowering his voice dramatically. You finally got yourself a secret woman. Daniel nearly choked. What? I knew it.
Jerome pointed triumphantly. That face right there. There's no woman. Jerome narrowed his eyes. Brooks, I've watched you walk around looking like depression with steeltoe boots for 2 years today.
You smiled at your phone. Daniel grabbed another crate quickly to end the conversation. You're insane. Jerome grinned. But the truth unsettled Daniel more than he wanted to admit because Jerome was right.
He had smiled at his phone twice. By lunchtime, exhaustion hit him like a truck. Daniel sat alone near the loading docks, eating vending machine crackers while cold air pushed through the open bay doors. Around him, men complained about overtime football rent politics. Life moving forward in rough, exhausted circles.
Daniel pulled his phone out again before he could stop himself. Another message waited. Question. He frowned slightly before replying. That sounds dangerous.
How long did it take your son to trust you again after your wife died? Daniel's chest tightened instantly. He stared at the words for a long moment. Not because he didn't know the answer. Because he did.
Still working on it, he typed carefully. Three dots appeared. What do you mean? Daniel leaned back against the wall slowly. After Sandra died, Marcus stopped talking for almost 3 months.
He swallowed hard. One day, he asked me if I was going to disappear, too. The typing bubble vanished, then returned slower this time. Jesus. Daniel rubbed a hand over his jaw.
Kids understand loss more than adults think. Another long pause. Did you know what to say? Daniel looked out toward the gray industrial skyline beyond the warehouse docks. No, he admitted.
I still don't. Silence again. But this silence felt heavy differently now. Honest, vulnerable. Finally, her message appeared.
I asked because my father disappeared when I was nine. Daniel blinked hard. That sentence changed something. Until that moment, Olivia had existed like an abstract mystery in his head. Rich CEO, beautiful stranger, someone far away from real life.
But that sentence sounded painfully human. He left Daniel asked. One day he just decided another family mattered more. Daniel exhaled slowly. I'm sorry.
See, she replied, "Too small." Daniel stared at that and felt something crack softly inside him. The strange thing was they weren't flirting. Not really. It wasn't romance yet. It was recognition.
Two exhausted people accidentally finding someone who understood the language of surviving damage. The rest of the workday crawled by painfully slow. Daniel's back burned from lifting inventory while sleep deprivation made every hour blur together. But underneath the exhaustion, there was something else now, too. Anticipation.
Every time his phone buzzed, his pulse reacted before his brain did. He hated that. Hated how quickly another human being could become emotionally dangerous. By the time he picked Marcus up from school, freezing rain had started falling across the city. Marcus talked excitedly about science class while Daniel listened, carrying groceries in one arm and his son's backpack in the other.
Halfway home, Marcus suddenly asked Dad, "Yeah, why are you smiling so much today?" Daniel nearly stumbled on the wet sidewalk. "I'm not smiling." Marcus gave him a look children reserve exclusively for adults who are obviously lying. You are. Daniel opened the apartment door quickly, hoping to escape the conversation, but Marcus kept watching him carefully while kicking off his shoes. Did something good happen?
Daniel froze for a second. Such a simple question, but he genuinely didn't know how to answer it. Had something good happened? Nothing in his actual life had changed. Bills still existed.
Sandra was still gone. The apartment still felt too empty at night. But somehow breathing hurt a little less than it did a week ago. Maybe Daniel admitted quietly. Marcus smiled instantly.
Good. Then he disappeared toward his room like the conversation was over. Kids were strange that way. They accepted emotional truths adults complicated unnecessarily. That night after dinner, Marcus struggled for almost 20 minutes trying to tie his sneakers before frustration finally overwhelmed him.