"I can't do it," he snapped, suddenly shoving the shoe away. Daniel crouched beside him calmly. "Hey, look at me." Marcus's eyes were already watering. I keep messing up. Daniel picked up the sneaker slowly.
Do you remember how many times you fell off your bike? Marcus sniffed. A lot. And what happened? I learned.
Daniel nodded once. Exactly. Marcus stared silently at the shoe for another second before trying again. This time, his hands moved slower, careful, focused, and after another minute, the knot finally held. Marcus's face lit up instantly.
Dad. Dad, look. Daniel smiled so hard his chest physically hurt. Yeah, buddy, he whispered. I see it.
Later that night, after Marcus fell asleep, Daniel sat alone on the couch in darkness, holding his phone again. The apartment remained quiet except for rain tapping weakly against the windows. Then, finally, another message appeared. You awake? Daniel smiled before he even realized it.
Yeah. Three dots appeared immediately. Good. Today was terrible. Daniel leaned back slowly, already waiting for the rest of the story because somehow impossibly the part of his day that no longer felt unbearable was this.
Good. Today was terrible. Daniel stared at the message for a second before typing back, "That sounds expensive." Olivia replied immediately. "You have no idea." Daniel leaned deeper into the couch cushions while Rain continued tapping softly against the apartment windows. The only light in the room came from the hallway lamp Marcus insisted on leaving on every night because total darkness still made him nervous.
Somewhere down the hall, his son shifted in bed. The sound grounded him, kept him anchored in reality. Because lately, these late night conversations with Olivia were beginning to feel dangerously separate from the rest of his life, like stepping into another world after midnight. Tell me, he typed. Three dots appeared instantly.
Board meeting started with one investor telling me I looked tired. Daniel frowned. That's what made the day terrible. No, she wrote. The terrible part is he was right.
Daniel stared quietly at the phone. He could picture her now more clearly than he wanted to admit. Sitting somewhere high above the city, surrounded by glass walls and expensive silence, shoes kicked off, hair messy again, looking exhausted in ways nobody around her probably noticed anymore. "How many people work for you?" he asked. directly around 700. Daniel let out a low whistle.
That's too many people. Exactly. Another message followed immediately. You know what the weird part is? What I can walk into a room with hundreds of people and still feel completely alone.
Daniel's thumb hovered over the screen before replying because he understood that sentence more than he should have. Yeah, he admitted quietly. I know. There was a pause long enough that he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. Then finally, her response came.
How? Daniel rubbed tired fingers across his forehead. After Sandra died, people surrounded me constantly. He swallowed once before continuing. family, friends, co-workers, church people bringing casserles nobody asked for. Olivia sent back a laughing emoji for the first time since they started talking.
Daniel blinked at it unexpectedly. The tiny symbol felt weirdly intimate. But she asked, but nobody knew what to say after the funeral ended. Daniel stared into the dark living room while typing slowly. After a while, people stopped asking how you're doing. because they want you to be okay already.
The response took longer this time. That might be one of the saddest things I've ever heard. Daniel shrugged even though she couldn't see him. It's true. Rain continued falling harder outside now.
The old apartment windows rattled softly in the wind. Daniel looked around the room automatically. Marcus' backpack near the table. Tiny sneakers near the door. Half-finish science project spread across the counter. evidence of a life held together with exhaustion and routine.
Can I ask you something? Olivia wrote suddenly. Depends. Do you ever get angry at her? Daniel frowned.
Sandra. For leaving you alone? Daniel's chest tightened instantly. Nobody had ever asked him that directly before. Not once.
People treated grief carefully like glass. They tiptoed around it. But Olivia walked straight into painful truths like she wasn't afraid of them. Daniel leaned forward slowly, elbows on his knees. Sometimes, he admitted finally.
The honesty startled even him, especially in the beginning. Silence. Then, "Thank you for answering honestly." Daniel closed his eyes briefly. "I used to hate myself for feeling angry," he typed. Then one day, Marcus had a meltdown because he couldn't find his shoes.
And I realized something. What grief isn't clean? Olivia didn't respond immediately. When she finally did, the message came slower than usual. You say things nobody else says.
Daniel huffed quietly. Probably because I'm too tired to lie anymore. The typing bubble appeared, stopped, appeared again. Can I tell you something I've never told anyone? Daniel's pulse shifted strangely.
Okay. A full minute passed before her next message arrived. Sometimes I drive around for an hour before going home because I can't stand how empty the penthouse feels. Daniel sat very still. He imagined her alone in some black luxury SUV beneath city lights, wasting time because loneliness felt easier in motion.
Something about that image hit him harder than expected. That bad, he typed carefully. Some nights I walk into that apartment and it feels like a museum built for someone else's life. Daniel looked down at those words and suddenly understood her in a way that had nothing to do with money or status anymore. Loneliness always sounded the same eventually, whether it lived in a penthouse or a tiny apartment in South Chicago.
"Why don't you quit?" he asked. Her answer came instantly this time. "Because I spent 15 years proving I deserved to be there." Daniel could almost feel the exhaustion behind the sentence. "You know how many men told me I was too emotional to run a company?" she continued. Too young, too soft, too pretty, too aggressive, too ambitious.
Somehow always too much or not enough at the exact same time. Daniel shook his head slowly. Sounds exhausting. It is another pause. And now I'm terrified that if I stop moving, I'll realize none of it actually made me happy.
Daniel stared at the screen for a long moment without replying. Because suddenly this didn't feel like random late night conversation anymore. It felt like two people standing at the edge of something dangerous and honest neither of them fully understood yet. Then a small sound interrupted the silence. Marcus crying.
Daniel was on his feet immediately. "Hold on," he typed quickly before rushing toward the bedroom. Marcus sat upright in bed, breathing hard tears streaking his face. Hey, hey, hey, Daniel said softly, kneeling beside him. What happened?