The days slid by, quiet and easy.
David walked to and from work every day now, his footsteps steady, his breath visible in the sharp morning air. The city moved around him — buses grumbling past, coffee shops rattling open their doors — but he moved at his own pace, untangled from the rush.
At the office, things were calmer too. He'd trimmed his workload down to something manageable. Todd stayed distant, but David barely noticed anymore. Let the guy grind himself into dust if he wanted. David had nothing to prove to anyone.
At home, the tension had eased. His wife still had her tired days, still sank into her phone or a book more often than not — but there were more smiles now. More small conversations over dinner. Josh even dragged him outside one evening to kick a soccer ball around until the sunset turned the sky the color of burnt oranges.
David found himself laughing more.
Sleeping deeper.
Eating without the tight knot of dread in his stomach.
It was... good.
Simple, uneven, imperfect — but good.
He mentioned it to Mathers at their next session, unable to keep the quiet excitement out of his voice.
"I don't know how to thank you," David said, sitting back in the worn armchair, feeling lighter than he could remember.
Mathers smiled — the small, tight-lipped smile that had always seemed quietly proud before.
But this time, there was something else there too.
A pause.
A flicker behind the eyes.
Gone before David could name it.
"You did the work, David," Mathers said. His voice was even, but there was a slight roughness to it — almost like disappointment smoothed quickly over. "You chose to let go. You chose to live differently."
David nodded, feeling the words settle inside him like warm stones.
Mathers leaned forward slightly, steepling his fingers.
"Just remember," he said, voice low, careful, "life can be unpredictable. Sometimes it throws storms when you least expect them. Don't let that steal what you’ve built. Stay grounded. Stay light."
David smiled back, a little giddy with gratitude.
He almost said it — I owe you everything — but stopped himself.
It sounded too dramatic, too desperate.
Still, he left the office that evening feeling taller, broader, more himself than he had in years.
The rain had stopped.
The streets shone clean under the streetlights, like the whole city had been scrubbed fresh.
He walked home, hands in his pockets, head high, the world stretched out in front of him like something still worth believing in.