A few months before his 36th birthday, I found him sitting at the kitchen table with a plastic surgeon’s website open on his laptop.
He tried to close it.
Too late.
« I’ve wanted to fix it forever, » he admitted.
He wouldn’t look at me.
« I just can’t justify spending that much. »
I had been saving for a newer car.
Mine still ran, mostly.
And if this could make Daniel happy in a way I hadn’t been able to, the car could wait.
So two weeks later, I handed him the clinic estimate.
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