Chương 3
Not because the toy itself mattered.
Because of what happened when Lily reached for it.
Because for a few seconds, he had seen possibility instead of fear.
Emma entered carrying a folder.
Her expression changed when she noticed him.
“What is that?”
She placed it down carefully.
“The evaluation paperwork.”
Daniel’s shoulders tightened.
“You printed it?”
“I wanted us to go through it together.”
He looked at the folder but did not touch it.
Emma noticed.
“You don’t have to open it right now.”
“I should.”
“Should and want are different.”
Daniel gave a tired smile.
“You always know when I’m avoiding something.”
“You always know when I’m pretending something doesn’t bother me.”
They sat across from each other.
The folder stayed between them.
For several minutes, neither moved.
Then Daniel opened it.
The papers contained schedules, questions, medical notes, and instructions.
Nothing terrifying.
Nothing comforting.
Just information.
That was sometimes the hardest part.
The unknown could become anything.
Information forced it to become something specific.
Daniel read quietly.
Emma watched Lily playing with the edge of a blanket.
After a while, Daniel noticed something.
“What?”
Emma looked up.
“You didn’t tell me about the appointment request until last night.”
“I was waiting.”
“For what?”
He looked down.
“I don’t know.”
Emma leaned back.
“That’s the problem.”
Daniel frowned slightly.
“What is?”
“You think waiting means you’re giving something time.”
She touched the folder.
“Sometimes waiting just means you’re letting something happen without you.”
The sentence stayed with him.
He wanted to argue.
He wanted to explain.
Instead, he looked at Lily.
The baby had grabbed the corner of her blanket and was trying to pull it closer.
A simple movement.
A normal movement.
A reminder that life did not stop while adults were afraid.
“I hate that you’re right so often,” he said.
Emma smiled.
“I hate it too.”
That evening, Daniel received a call from his business partner.
He almost ignored it.
Then he answered.
“Hey.”
The voice on the other end sounded cautious.
“Daniel, I need to ask you something.”
Daniel walked toward the hallway.
“What happened?”
“There are rumors.”
Daniel stopped.
“What kind of rumors?”
A pause followed.
“The board thinks you’ve been distracted.”
He closed his eyes.
The word bothered him.
Distracted.
As if loving his daughter was a failure of attention.
“Did they say that?”
“They said they’re concerned.”
“Concerned about what?”
Another pause.
“Your ability to keep leading while everything is happening.”
Daniel leaned against the wall.
He had expected medical uncertainty.
He had expected exhaustion.
He had not expected his own company to become another place where he had to prove he was still himself.
“I’ll handle it.”
His partner sighed.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Don’t do what you always do.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means don’t disappear into work just because something at home scares you.”
Daniel looked toward the dining room.
Emma was sitting with Lily, showing her the yellow toy again.
The baby reached for it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
But she reached.
Daniel lowered the phone.
For once, he did not immediately search for a solution.
He simply stood there and watched.
Because maybe the hardest thing he had to learn was not how to fix every problem.
Maybe it was how to stay present when he could not.
The following morning, Daniel arrived at his office earlier than anyone expected.
The building was already awake.
Elevators opened and closed across the lobby.
Employees walked quickly while staring at their phones.
Someone near the entrance was arguing quietly about a delivery that had gone to the wrong floor.
The ordinary movement of the place continued, but Daniel felt like he was walking through a room where everyone knew something he did not.
He hated that feeling.
At home, uncertainty came with medical words and waiting rooms.
At work, it came dressed as polite conversations and careful emails.
His assistant looked up when he entered.
“Good morning.”
Daniel nodded.
“Morning.”
She hesitated.
That hesitation bothered him more than the greeting.
“What?”
She looked down at her tablet.
“The board meeting was moved.”
“To when?”
“Today.”
Daniel stopped walking.
“Who moved it?”
She swallowed.
“Mr. Carson requested it.”
Daniel knew exactly who she meant.
Richard Carson had been on the company board for seven years.
He was not a cruel man.
That almost made things harder.
Cruel people were easier to understand.
Richard believed he was practical.
He believed every decision could be reduced to numbers and risk percentages.
He rarely raised his voice.
He rarely needed to.
“I’ll be there,” Daniel said.
His assistant nodded.
When he reached his office, he closed the door and sat down.
The room looked exactly the same as it had the day before.
The same desk.
The same framed photos.
The same view of the city.
But everything felt slightly different.
On his desk was a picture of Lily taken three weeks earlier.
Emma had laughed when she saw it.
Daniel had spent twenty minutes trying to capture the perfect moment, only for Lily to turn away every time.
The final picture showed half of her face, one tiny hand covering her mouth, and Daniel looking completely defeated in the background.
It was not the kind of photo he would have chosen before becoming a father.
Now it was his favorite.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Emma.
Lily slept well.
Daniel stared at the words longer than necessary.
He typed a response.
Good.
Then deleted it.
Too short.
He typed again.
I’m glad.
Deleted that too.
Finally, he sent:
That’s good. I hope you both got some rest.
Emma replied almost immediately.
We did.
Then another message appeared.
Are you okay?
Daniel looked at the screen.
He almost lied.
He almost wrote yes.
Instead, he put the phone down.
A few minutes later, he stood and walked into the conference room.
Richard was already there with three other board members.
Nobody looked angry.
That made it worse.
“Daniel,” Richard said.
May you like
They shook hands.
“Thanks for coming in.”
