Stability crept in gradually, almost unnoticed.

The tooth stopped being a daily concern. Gary still respected it — followed instructions, attended appointments — but the background hum of anxiety faded. Pain no longer dictated his mood.

Emotionally, things steadied as well. Trust rebuilt not through grand gestures, but through reliability. Showing up. Listening. Not pushing when silence appeared.

Gary found himself oddly proud of how unremarkable everything felt.

There were moments of temptation. Opportunities to rush. Invitations to escalate things prematurely. Each time, Gary checked himself. Not out of fear, but out of understanding.

This was working because he wasn’t forcing it.

One evening, sitting together without agenda or expectation, Gary realised he wasn’t performing. He wasn’t waiting for the next test. He was just present.

That scared him less than it should have.

Still, the old instincts hadn’t vanished. A part of him wondered whether this stability meant he was missing out. Whether he should “upgrade” things now that everything was going well. Whether patience was starting to look like passivity.

The thought lingered.

He could continue on this steady path, trusting that slow progress was still progress. Or he could try to accelerate things, assuming stability meant safety.

Gary had learned enough by now to know the difference.

Continue slow, adult progress → Page 85

Try to upgrade the relationship suddenly → Page 78