She looked surprised. “You’ve changed.”
“I had to.”
When she finally chose to leave, there were no grand speeches. Just a long embrace between her and Gabriel.
“You’ll keep walking,” she told him.
“I already do,” he replied solemnly.
After she left, there were difficult days. Two mornings when Gabriel refused to get up. Daniel didn’t panic. He sat beside him.
“Not today,” Gabriel murmured once.
“That’s okay,” Daniel answered.
On the fourth day, the boy stood up on his own.
Months later, Gabriel started school. Slowly. Unevenly. But upright. Daniel learned to witness without interfering, to support without suffocating.
One afternoon, Gabriel tripped in the hallway. He pushed himself back up, brushed off his knees, and looked at his father.
“Did you see?”
Daniel smiled, his heart full and steady.
“Yes,” he said. “I see you.”
And this time, that was enough.
