Nothing ended with a bang.

There was no argument, no confrontation, no dramatic late-night message that demanded a response. Things simply slowed, thinned out, and eventually stopped. Conversations became infrequent. Replies took longer. Plans were suggested and quietly forgotten. It was all so reasonable that Gary almost missed the moment it became final.

Almost.

He told himself this was for the best. That timing mattered. That he needed to focus on himself, on recovery, on getting back to normal without dragging anyone else into the mess. These explanations sounded sensible when he repeated them often enough.

The tooth healed.

That part worked exactly as promised. The swelling went down. The pain faded. Gary found himself chewing without thinking about it for the first time in weeks. From the outside, the problem had been solved cleanly and efficiently.

Life slipped back into its usual shape.

Gary returned to the pub on quieter nights, the sort where the regulars outnumbered the stories. He drank at a measured pace, aware now of how quickly things could slide if he wasn’t careful. Someone eventually asked how everything had turned out, nodding vaguely in the direction of Gary’s jaw.

“Sorted,” Gary said. “Dentally speaking.”

They laughed, and that was that.

On the walk home, the absence crept up on him. Not pain. Not regret, exactly. Just a low, persistent awareness that something else had been treated less carefully than his tooth. He’d done the sensible thing medically, but emotionally he’d taken the path of least resistance.

Standing outside his flat, keys in hand, Gary paused longer than necessary. The windows above him were dark. Quiet. Safe.

He realised then that safety had become his default goal.

Not happiness. Not connection. Just avoiding damage.

It wasn’t a tragedy. He hadn’t failed. He’d survived and improved and carried on.

But he hadn’t grown.

And that knowledge settled with him as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Focus on yourself and rebuild properly → Page 95

Drift back into old social habits → Page 85