The pain didn’t explode.

That was almost disappointing, in a grim sort of way. Gary had half-expected some dramatic escalation — a sharp stab, a cinematic collapse, something that would at least justify how long he’d been ignoring the problem. Instead, the pain settled in slowly and deeply, like it had finally decided to make itself comfortable.

He sat at the kitchen table with his elbow propped up and his head resting heavily in his hand. The room was quiet. Too quiet. Every throb in his jaw felt louder without anything to drown it out. It wasn’t agony. It was worse than that. It was constant.

Gary closed his eyes and let out a long breath through his nose.

“This is on me,” he muttered.

The swelling had come back. Not dramatically. Just enough to be undeniable. His reflection in the dark window glass looked tired, puffy, and faintly annoyed — a man caught out by his own half-measures.

He picked up his phone and stared at it for a full minute before making the call he’d been avoiding. When the voice on the other end answered, calm and unmistakably unimpressed, Gary felt his stomach drop.

“Come in today,” she said. “This can’t wait.”

Gary swallowed. “Right. Yes. Today.”

The call ended quickly. Efficient. Professional. No judgement spoken out loud, which somehow made it worse.

He sat there for another moment, absorbing the reality of it. This wasn’t disaster. He wasn’t dying. But he was paying for cutting corners, and there was no pretending otherwise now.

Gary stood and glanced toward the drawer where he kept a handful of tools — nothing useful, nothing sensible, but enough to tempt a bad idea.

He shook his head slowly.

No more pretending.

Accept emergency treatment and face the consequences → Page 72

Panic, reject help, and attempt a DIY solution → Page 88