Chapter 33
We step out into the late morning sky. Clear blue, no clouds, with a warm, strong breeze skipping off the lake.
It tugs at Luna’s curls. She tightens the band around her bun, then interlaces her fingers through mine as we walk along the shoreline, our steps falling in tandem, sinking into the damp sand.
“I’m grappling with the words,” I say, filling the silence.
“It’s not a speech, DK.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m not looking for something tidy or practiced. I want what’s real.”
I nod, gathering my bearings. “I told you work was my priority,” I start, my eyes fixed on the horizon where the water meets the sky. “But it wasn’t just long hours. It was endless.”
She stops walking. I can feel her gaze on the side of my face, but I keep moving, gently pulling her along. If I stop, I might not finish.
“I got high on the friction, the chaos—strategizing, moving the pieces like a game of chess that I was playing alone, competing with my own self. I thought I was in control. I thought nothing could ever touch me. They called me Iron Man. My bosses didn’t know how I got it all done…
and didn’t care, as long as I delivered.
“I wore that like a badge. Existing on coffee, Red Bull, and caffeine pills, just to function. It messed up my sleep. I was often too wired, so I’d crash with sleeping pills, then pick myself back up by overdosing on caffeine.
I didn’t listen when my friends and family told me to slow down.
It was like the more I achieved, the more I needed it.
Don—my therapist—later explained I’d tied my identity and self-worth to productivity.
That’s why I kept pushing myself harder.
And harder. Until everything just… shut down. ”
I finally look at her. The sun is bright, but the memory is dark. “I was rushed to the hospital with my kidneys failing and my heart red-lining.”
She gasps, her eyes shimmering with shock.
I look away and finish it.
“I woke up five days later in the ICU. Doctors called it a complete systemic collapse. I managed every outcome—except this. I was thirty-one, and the pace I thought I couldn’t live without… had almost killed me. And that wasn’t even the worst part,” I say, my voice cracking.
“It was waking up in the middle of the night to find my father—the most stoic person I know—at my bedside, sobbing. That’s what did it for me. I didn’t want to be that man anymore. A man who drove himself to the brink. Who hurt people I love.”
“DK,” she whispers, forcing my eyes to hers. No judgment, just care. She wraps her arms around my back and pulls me in, leaving no space between us. Her bun brushes under my chin, her heart beats wildly, a deep echo through my chest.
I knew—especially after last night—that she’d meet me with softness. But what she says next still brings me to my knees.
“Surviving that… wasn’t just a physical feat. It shows how strong you are. How resilient. How much you love your family. Breaking that pattern… I can’t even imagine how hard that would have been. I’m so amazed by you.”
I pull her down into the sand with me, my knees hitting the wet earth, still locked in the circle of her arms. Something in my chest—the part I’ve kept steel-armored and bolted shut—breaks wide open.
The tears come hard, a violent release of everything I’d never given myself permission to feel out loud.
I let it all spill out—the guilt I’ve carried, the weight I held so my family wouldn’t have to, the chilling fear of how close I came to dying.
My body shakes with it, and Luna just holds me tighter—absorbing it all as the rippling of the lake drifts in and laps against us.