On Saturdays he was drafted into roles: goalie, dragon, horse. Ethan fired shots with reckless precision; Leo shrieked gleefully as he clung to Daniel’s shoulders. Claire watched from the porch, phone in hand, capturing their noise. Later, when Daniel flipped through those pictures, he thought: this is what joy really means.
Their marriage had rhythms, the kind you never noticed until you stepped outside them. Claire scribbled grocery lists; Daniel carried bags. She cooked; he stirred. At night, folding laundry side by side, he sometimes caught himself smiling for no reason. He thought it was rare, maybe even miraculous, to feel this steady.