Gary stopped trying to reframe the past.

He’d spent enough time replaying moments, wondering how slight adjustments might have led to different outcomes. That curiosity had been useful once. Now it felt indulgent.

The truth was simpler: the story had taken the shape it needed to.

Some things had worked out. Others hadn’t. None of it was random anymore.

Gary met friends without the urge to perform. He attended social things without staying longer than he wanted. He left early when he felt like it. These weren’t grand acts of self-care — just quiet signals that he trusted himself more than he used to.

Occasionally, someone would bring up the tooth. Or the saga around it. Gary answered honestly, without exaggeration or embarrassment. It had become part of his history, not his identity.

That distinction mattered.

Standing outside one evening, hands in pockets, Gary realised he felt ready for whatever came next — not because he expected success, but because he’d made peace with outcomes.

That was new.

He understood now that not every ending needed fireworks. Some simply needed acknowledgment. An honest accounting of what was gained, what was lost, and what was learned along the way.

Gary didn’t feel like he’d failed. He didn’t feel like he’d won either.

He felt complete.

From here, the story could close gently, reflecting that acceptance. Or it could sharpen into something more defined, if he chose to step forward decisively instead of letting momentum carry him.

Both felt valid.

Gary smiled faintly at the thought.

Allow this acceptance to stand → Page 106

Push toward a more decisive ending → Page 104