The silence that followed was heavier than any mortar blast Daniel had ever survived.
Michael’s hand began to shake. He looked from the silver ring to the open hallway, his eyes darting like a cornered animal.
“Daniel,” Michael stammered, backing away until his spine hit the bookshelf. “Listen to me. It wasn’t like that. We were desperate.”
“You weren’t desperate,” Daniel said.
His voice was terrifyingly calm. The manic adrenaline of the front lines had faded. It left behind only a cold, hollow certainty.
“You were greedy.”
Emma fell to her knees on the rug. She reached out, her hands trembling, trying to grab the hem of his damp, mud-stained trousers.
“Daniel, please!” she sobbed, the tears ruining her makeup. “He lied to you. I love you. I’ve always loved you!”
Daniel took one deliberate step backward. Her fingers brushed only empty air.
“He didn’t lie,” Daniel whispered. “He died with my tourniquet around his thigh, begging for God’s forgiveness. He gave me the dates. The bank accounts. The insurance paperwork. Everything you two promised him to make sure I caught a bullet.”
Michael’s face went entirely pale. The weight of the truth hit him like a physical blow.
“The military police know,” Daniel continued, looking at his oldest friend. “They met me at the tarmac. I asked them for five minutes alone in my house. Just to see it one last time.”
Outside, a sudden flash of red and blue lights cut through the dark rain. The colors washed over the beige couch and the wedding photograph. The distant, rhythmic wail of sirens grew louder, shattering the quiet neighborhood.
Daniel looked down at the crushed music box on the floor. He didn’t pick it up.
He looked at Emma. Then at Michael.
“You wanted my life,” Daniel said softly.
He turned toward the door, his posture straight, his heavy boots steady.
“You can keep it. It’s already rotting.”
He walked out into the rain.