Gary hated how controlled everything suddenly felt.

Take this. Don’t do that. Call here. Come back then. It rubbed against something stubborn and childish inside him, something that insisted he should be trusted to manage his own face.

He skipped another follow-up call. Told himself he’d do it tomorrow. Then the next day.

The pain crept back in stages. Subtle at first. A dull reminder when he chewed. A pulse when he laughed. Gary ignored it, jaw clenched, pride doing most of the heavy lifting.

“This is fine,” he told the empty kitchen.

It wasn’t.

One morning he woke with his cheek visibly swollen again. Not dramatically. Just enough to be undeniable. He stared at his reflection, anger flaring hotter than fear.

He didn’t want to admit he’d messed up. Not again. Not after making such a show of “handling it.”

But the truth sat there in the mirror, puffy and unimpressed.

Gary had a choice now. Swallow his pride, admit he’d let resentment steer him, and accept help properly. Or push harder in the opposite direction, lean into independence and prove — to himself, mostly — that he didn’t need managing.

He sighed, rubbing his face carefully.

Finally accept help and reset properly → Page 81

Push independence harder and reject guidance → Page 76