Chapter Twenty-Eight - Daniel
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Daniel
DANIEL SAT ON the couch in Dr. Ellis’s office, fingers loosely clasped between his knees, staring at the floor.
“How have you been feeling since our last session?” she asked.
Daniel let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders like he could physically shake off the tension wrapped around his body.
“Tired,” he admitted.
Dr. Ellis nodded, waiting.
He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the roughness of the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. “I don’t know,” he said after a beat. “I guess I thought… the more I did this, the easier it would get.”
“And it hasn’t?”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “No. It’s worse.”
Her head tilted slightly. “In what way?”
Daniel swallowed, his throat dry. He had been peeling himself open, layer by layer, week after week, and it wasn’t getting easier. It was like digging up an old wound only to find the infection still rotting underneath.
But that was the point, wasn’t it?
If this was easy, he wouldn’t be changing.
He exhaled, voice tight. “I keep thinking about all the things I didn’t see. About Hannah.”
Dr. Ellis nodded, flipping her pen between her fingers. “Like what?”
His chest tightened. He hadn’t been ready to see it before—all the moments he had taken her for granted, the small kindnesses she had given him that he never fully recognized until they were gone.
“She always made my coffee first,” he said quietly, surprising himself. “Before she even made her own.”
Dr. Ellis didn’t respond, just let him keep going.
“She used to rub my shoulders when I was stressed. Even when I didn’t ask.” A breath. “She listened to me. She remembered the names of all my coworkers, even the ones I barely talked about.”
It was endless, the list of things she had given him without expectation, without hesitation.
He had let her carry all of it. The weight of their life together. The emotional labor of their relationship.
Dr. Ellis finally spoke. “And how does it feel to realize that now?”
Daniel laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Like I’m the biggest piece of shit on earth.”
She gave him a small nod, like she wasn’t disagreeing with him—but she wasn’t condemning him either. “It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
He clenched his jaw. “That’s an understatement.”
“But it’s necessary.”
Daniel let out a slow breath. He knew that. He knew that. But it didn’t make it feel any less like he was being skinned alive.
“Daniel,” Dr. Ellis said, voice steady. “We’ve talked about guilt before.”
He huffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. I have plenty of it.”
“But guilt is about what you’ve done,” she said. “Shame is about who you are.” She paused, watching him carefully. “Which do you feel more?”
Daniel blinked. His stomach twisted.
“I don’t know,” he said. But it wasn’t true. He knew. He fucking knew.
Dr. Ellis waited.
Daniel’s fingers curled into his thighs.
Guilt, he could deal with. He had done a terrible thing—he had done many terrible things.
But shame?
Shame meant he wasn’t just a man who made a mistake.
Shame meant he was broken.
His throat felt tight. His voice cracked when he spoke. “I don’t think I’m a good person.”
Dr. Ellis nodded, like she had been waiting for him to say it. “Why not?”
His jaw clenched. “Because I did the worst thing imaginable to someone who loved me. And I didn’t even let myself understand what that meant until it was too late.”
There it was.
The truth, rotting inside him for months.
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The restaurant didn’t even have a name on the door. Just a sleek black awning and a carefully curated line of people pretending they weren’t waiting for a table they’d never get.
The kind of restaurant that wasn’t about the food, but about being seen.
His father was already there, seated at a table in the corner, perfectly angled to take in the crowd.
Today he was wearing a fitted black T-shirt and a leather jacket. Slim-cut jeans, the type worn by twenty-something influencers.
His father was the kind of man who managed aging, controlled it, outpaced it with money and strategy.
Daniel was seeing it with fresh eyes. The obsessive workouts, the expensive skincare, the “casual” Botox appointments he refused to acknowledge out loud.
Everything about him was designed to tell the world: I am still young. I am still powerful. I am still the man you should envy.
Except Daniel didn’t envy him at all.
Not anymore.
His father assessed Daniel as he approached, giving him a cursory nod before taking a sip of whatever overpriced cocktail he’d ordered.
"Nice of you to clean yourself up," he said. "For a while there, you were starting to look like one of those divorced guys. "
Daniel pulled out his chair, ignoring the comment. "We haven’t even ordered and you’re already pissing me off."
His father smiled easily. "I’m just saying—it’s good you’re pulling yourself together. You let yourself go after a marriage ends, and suddenly, you’re forty-five, bald, and wearing orthopedic shoes." He shook his head like it was a tragedy. "That’s how you lose options in life, Daniel."
Daniel exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. His father could say he was fine. He could throw money at time, could surround himself with twenty-something models and pay for whatever procedure would keep him looking relevant.
But Daniel understood it now.
The desperation underneath it all.
The terror.
His father was a man running from something he couldn’t outrun. And the only way he knew how to fight it was to treat people like stepping stones. Even his wives. Especially his wives.
Because if he could replace them , keep them in a certain age bracket, then maybe— maybe —he wouldn’t have to face the truth.
That eventually, time would catch him too.
Daniel felt it—the disgust, the exhaustion, the cold, creeping realization that he had been running in that same direction.
He had hated the idea of aging. Had convinced himself that staying desirable, staying wanted, was the same thing as staying valuable.
And because of that, he had betrayed the best thing in his life.
Because of that, he had lost her.
His father picked up his drink, swirling the liquid lazily before taking another sip. “When you marry again, she’ll be the same age as the first one was on day one. Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six, max."
Daniel felt his stomach turn.
" Jesus Christ. "
The words left Daniel before he could stop them, sharp and disgusted.
His father raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
" Hannah isn’t some replaceable thing," he said, voice sharper now. "She’s the best fucking person I have ever known. And you know what?” His throat tightened. “She’s growing more perfect every year."
His father let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus. You sound like you’re going to go crawling back to her, begging her to take you back.”
Daniel wanted to.
If Hannah gave him the chance—he would beg her. He’d crawl for her for the rest of his life if she let him.
And he’d do it happily.
Daniel exhaled slowly, then pushed his chair back. He wouldn’t be able to sit through lunch.
His father arched an eyebrow. "What, you’re leaving?"
Daniel reached for his wallet, pulling out a few crisp bills and tossing them onto the table.
"I don’t expect you to understand," he said, voice calm now. "But I’m not going to be like you."
His father looked up, face mostly unreadable—too much Botox, too little emotion—but Daniel saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Daniel shook his head. “I can change. I will change.”
As he stepped onto the busy street, he thought— if she lets me…
If she ever lets me, I would happily crawl for her.
And I would never stop.