The moment.
The choice.
Not between right and wrong, but between two truths that could not exist together without breaking something inside us.
He had come back.
Not because he had believed us.
But because time had run out for him.
Daniel was the one who understood it first, I could see it in the way his expression shifted, not with anger, but with clarity.
“You didn’t come back for us,” he said slowly.
“You came back for yourself.”
