Daniel drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on the gearshift, his eyes focused on the road. Lily sat beside him, still in the clothes she'd changed into, her body freshly scrubbed but her mind tangled in things left unsaid.
The city passed by outside the window—blurring edges of lives she wasn't part of. The world moved on, unaware that hers had paused.
"I think," she began, voice low, "when I was a kid, I thought my dad was invincible."
Daniel glanced over at her, just for a second, then back at the road.
"I thought he would always win. He'd always find a way. He was like… some kind of machine. Always ten steps ahead. Always the last one standing." She paused. "Watching him in that bed—it broke something in me. But it also made me realize he's still standing. Just… different."
Daniel didn't speak. He didn't need to.
