Gary realised that endings weren’t things that happened to you.

They were things you agreed to.

That understanding arrived without fanfare, but it stayed. He thought back to how many times he’d drifted into situations, letting momentum do the work for him. This time felt different. This time, he wanted intent.

He didn’t need to rewrite the past. He didn’t need to prove anything. He just wanted clarity.

Gary wrote a short list on a scrap of paper. Not goals. Not resolutions. Just truths.

What he was willing to tolerate.

What he wasn’t.

What he wanted more of.

What he’d learned the hard way.

The list surprised him by how reasonable it was.

There were no fantasies on it. No dramatic transformations. Just boundaries, honesty, and an understanding of his own limits.

That felt like growth.

Gary folded the paper and tucked it away, not as a talisman, but as a reminder that he didn’t have to stumble into the next chapter blind.

Whatever ending followed would reflect this moment — the first time he’d paused long enough to choose rather than react.

He felt oddly calm about it.

From here, the path narrowed, not because options disappeared, but because he’d ruled some out himself.

That was fine.

Gary stood, rolled his shoulders, and moved forward with purpose.

Commit to a healthy, grounded ending → Page 106

Aim for a bold, high-stakes conclusion → Page 107