The Weight of Karma
Gabriel drove home like a man chasing the end of something. The city lights passed in streaks. He didn’t remember traffic lights. He didn’t remember turns. All he could see was Michael’s face. The pause. The silence. The truth. And Daniel, not his blood. But his son. That word still belonged to him. No test could take that away. By the time he pulled into the driveway, his anger had changed shape. It wasn’t loud anymore. It was heavy. Inside the house, Prisca was pacing. She had been walking in circles for almost an hour. From the window to the couch. From the couch to the door. Her mind would not stop racing. Michael would crack. She knew that. He had never been good under pressure. She had hoped Gabriel would think first, calm down and sleep on it. But Gabriel did not slee
- Writer
