Daniel liked routines.
Routines meant control. Predictability. Proof that things were okay.
He believed relationships didn't need constant attention once they were established. Love, to him, was about staying—not talking endlessly about feelings.
He provided. He showed up physically. He didn't cheat. Didn't shout. Didn't disappear.
That had to count for something.
At work, his phone buzzed with Amara's name.
Did you remember tomorrow?
He frowned, typing back quickly.
Yeah. We'll talk later.
He meant it.
Later just had a habit of never coming.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, scrolling through social media during his break. A post caught his attention:
"If they're still there, things are fine."
He nodded unconsciously.
Exactly.
He didn't know that while he was finding comfort in that sentence, Amara was learning how to live without needing him to respond.