Morning came gently.
Not with the sharp intrusion of alarms or the stale panic that had become familiar, but with pale sunlight filtering through the curtains and the faint smell of coffee drifting down the hall.
Alex lay still for a moment, listening.
Nothing.
No whispers threading through the silence. No layered breathing tucked behind his thoughts.
Just the low hum of the refrigerator and a distant car passing outside.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe the doctor had been right.
Maybe the brain just needed time to remember how to be a brain again.
From the kitchen came the soft scrape of a chair, then Mia humming, something tuneless but content.
He pushed the covers back and sat up. The floor was cool beneath his feet as he stood.
When he entered the kitchen, Mia turned with a smile that reached her eyes immediately this time.
''Hey,'' she said. ''Look who's vertical.''
''I do that sometimes.''
''Rare skill.''
She slid a plate toward him. Eggs, toast, sliced fruit arranged with the unnecessary care she defaulted to when she was relieved.
He noticed it.
He noticed a lot of things lately.
They ate by the window.
Sunlight pooled across the table, bright enough that Alex found himself squinting slightly.
Without thinking, he reached over and tilted the blinds until the light softened.
Mia watched the motion but said nothing.
Instead she took a sip of coffee and asked lightly, ''Better?''
''Yeah. Just a little bright.''
She nodded once, filing it somewhere without making it weighty.
Outside, a dog barked. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed.
Ordinary sounds during an ordinary day.
The kind that stitched the world together.
Mia set her mug down.
''You seem… calmer.''
He considered that.
''I think I am.''
And it was true. The constant edge that had sharpened everything inside him felt dulled now, like a blade finally sheathed.
Not gone, just not pressing against his ribs anymore.
''No nightmares?'' she asked.
''None.''
''Whispers?''
He shook his head.
A smile tugged briefly at her mouth, careful yet hopeful.
''Good,'' she said. ''Let's keep moving in that direction.''
He nodded.
After breakfast, Mia gathered her bag.
''I've got a half day, but I should be back early,'' she said. ''What are you doing?''
Alex hesitated.
The answer came to him with surprising clarity.
''I might check my channel.''
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
''Yeah?''
''People keep asking where I went. Feels weird just disappearing.''
''That sounds… healthy,'' she said, though she studied him for a moment longer than necessary.
''Don't push yourself,'' she added.
''I won't.''
She stepped close, kissed him quickly, then rested her forehead against his for a second.
''Text me if anything feels off.''
''I will.''
When the door closed behind her, the apartment settled into a quiet that no longer felt oppressive.
Alex walked to his desk and opened his laptop.
The channel loaded slowly, thumbnails filling the screen, caves, abandoned structures, tight passages swallowed by darkness.
Versions of himself grinned back from frozen frames.
Fearless. Or at least convincing.
Notifications blinked in the corner.
He clicked.
Where'd you go, man? You alive? Miss the deep dives. Don't tell me you retired.
He smiled faintly.
It felt good to be missed.
Scrolling further, he found older footage - hikes, urban exploration, a sunrise he'd once chased up a mountain just because he could.
For the first time since the cave, the memories didn't tighten his chest.
Instead they felt… distant.
Like photographs from someone else's life.
His gaze drifted to the shelf beside the desk.
The GoPro sat there, exactly where Mia had placed it after unpacking his gear days ago.
He hadn't touched it since.
For a moment he simply looked at it.
Waiting, perhaps, for the unease to rise again.
It didn't.
Just an object.
Plastic. Glass. Circuitry.
Proof that the world still followed rules.
He reached out and picked it up.
Lighter than he remembered.
When he pressed the power button, the small screen flickered awake without protest.
Battery nearly full.
He hadn't expected that.
''Huh,'' he murmured.
Maybe Mia charged it? It didn't matter.
He turned it over in his hands.
A tool, nothing more, nothing less.
From the desk chair, sunlight crept slowly toward his feet.
Without noticing, he nudged the chair back an inch, letting the shadow from the bookshelf cover them instead.
The relief was immediate. Subtle, but unmistakable.
He frowned slightly, then shook it off.
By early afternoon, Mia returned carrying groceries and a brightness that suggested she'd allowed herself optimism.
''Guess what,'' she said, kicking the door closed behind her. ''It's absurdly nice out.''
''Define absurdly.''
''Warm. Sunny. People smiling for no reason. Very suspicious.''
He laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
''We should go outside,'' she continued. ''Walk, maybe. Pretend we're functional adults.''
He glanced toward the window. The light seemed less aggressive now.
Manageable.
''Yeah,'' he said. ''I'd like that.''
They chose a nearby park, wide paths winding between tall trees just beginning to show the first hints of green.
Families dotted the lawns. A couple tossed a frisbee. Somewhere, a child shrieked with laughter.
Life, loudly continuing.
As they walked, Mia slipped her hand into his.
He noticed something then.
The shade beneath the trees drew him more than the open path. Whenever the sunlight widened, he found himself drifting slightly toward the darker edge without thinking.
Eventually Mia nudged him gently.
''You know you keep steering us into the forest, right?''
He blinked, looking around.
They stood several feet off the main path.
''Sorry,'' he said. ''Didn't realize.''
She smiled, but her eyes lingered a moment.
''It's cooler here,'' he added.
Which was true.
Mostly.
They found a bench beneath a sprawling oak and sat.
Wind threaded softly through the branches. For a long while, neither spoke.
It was the comfortable kind of quiet now.
Not the suffocating kind.
Mia leaned her head briefly against his shoulder.
''I missed this,'' she said.
''Me too.''
And he meant it.
For the first time since the cave, the world felt aligned again, colors steady, sounds anchored where they belonged.
No distortion. No pressure. Just a day unfolding.
He watched a cloud drift lazily across the sky.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if fear was simply something the mind rehearsed until it forgot how to stop.
Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe trauma just echoed.
Beside him, Mia squeezed his hand once.
''You're coming back,'' she said quietly.
He turned toward her.
''Yeah,'' he replied.
And this time, he almost believed it.
Above them, the leaves stirred.
Though the air around the bench remained perfectly still.