Daniel

Daniel didn’t rush when her name lit his phone. He let it ring once, twice, then answered like it was any other call, voice calm, controlled. Still, his fingers tightened slightly against the table.

She didn’t stall. The words came out uneven—pregnant.

There was a pause. Not long, but enough. Daniel leaned back, exhaling quietly, eyes drifting to the window as if placing the weight somewhere distant.

“Okay,” he said, softer than usual.

He didn’t panic. Didn’t raise his voice. That wasn’t him. But he didn’t brush it off either. His jaw set slightly, the only hint something shifted.

“Are you alright?” he asked, tone low.

She hesitated, like she hadn’t expected that. He listened this time, quiet but present, letting her speak without interruption.

“We’ll figure it out,” he added, steady. “You’re not alone in it.”

Later, at home, everything looked the same. His wife laughed at the TV, the room warm and familiar. Daniel sat beside her, arm resting behind her, but his focus wasn’t fully there.

He seemed composed, untouched even.

But beneath that calm, something real settled in— and whether he showed it or not, he cared more than he let on.