FORGOTTEN IDENTITY
Killian looked at his brother, something easy and unhurried passing between them, and then back at me.
"I spent most of my life confusing happiness with winning," he said slowly. "Getting something before someone else could, proving a point, coming out ahead. I think this is the first time in my life I actually understand what happiness is. Not a destination you arrive at and own. Just this." He gestured at the quiet house around us, the sleeping children down the hall, the garden visible through the window, his small, careful paintings still visible on the mural wall. "Just being here, completely, without any part of it belonging to someone else's competition."
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