By the time Eli got home, he couldn’t tell if the ache in his chest was grief or shame. Probably both. He stood in the middle of the living room, numb, and realized he had to choose to either get himself back together or keep sinking
He chose the former.
It wasn’t a miracle cure. He didn’t spring back to life overnight. But the next morning, he shaved. He showered. He made real breakfast and drank water like it was medicine. He changed his sheets. Answered a few emails. And when his father called to say he was coming to check up on him again. Eli didn’t panic.
He wasn’t okay.
But he wasn’t disappearing either.
He was a Coward, Yes but not as cowardly as Dominic.
Eli didn’t bounce back overnight, but eventually, something softened. Maybe it was the silence, the sheer quiet of not chasing something that refused to be held. He stopped waking up hoping for a message. He stopped going to bed imagining a voice mail. And somewhere in that dull, lingering stillness, he remembered how to m
