The first morning, Sebastian told himself it was a mistake.
A moment of weakness.
Nothing more.
The second morning, he told himself it was because the cravings hadn't stopped.
Because recovery was hard.
Because he was struggling.
The third morning, he stopped trying to justify it.
Instead, he simply waited.
Waited for Lillian to take Ellie to school.
Waited for the apartment door to close.
Waited for the silence.
And then he went to Lillian's room.
A few days passed.
The routine settled in.
A routine he hated.
A routine he couldn't seem to stop.
Every morning followed the same pattern.
Breakfast.
Ellie talking endlessly.
Lillian reminding him to take his medication.
The school run.
The front door closing.
Silence.
Then the pull.
The craving.
The voice in his head.
Just one sip.
Just enough.
Just today.
Every day it was "just today."
And every day he believed himself.
The guilt followed immediately afterward.
Without fail.
Yet somehow it wasn't enough to stop him.
On Thursday morning, Sebastian stood in Lillian's room again.
The box sat in front of him.
Hidden exactly where she'd left it.
The sight made his stomach twist.
Because he knew exactly what he was doing.
And he knew exactly how wrong it was.
Still, his hand reached for the bottle.
The cap twisted open.
One sip.
The familiar burn spread through his throat.
Then came the relief.
Brief.
Temporary.
Dangerous.
He hated himself for needing it.
But he couldn't deny the truth.
The cravings eased afterward.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough that he could think again.
Enough that he could get through the day.
Enough that he could pretend everything was fine.
And that terrified him.
Because part of him had started looking forward to it.
That was the worst realization of all.
By Friday, Lillian had noticed changes.
Not the real changes.
The wrong ones.
The ones Sebastian wished she wouldn't notice.
"You seem better."
The words came during lunch.
Sebastian immediately froze.
Lillian looked genuinely pleased.
"You've been sleeping more."
A lie.
"You're less tense."
Another lie.
"The tremors seem slightly better too."
Sebastian stared at his plate.
Unable to meet her eyes.
Because she wasn't wrong.
He did seem better.
At least on the surface.
The problem was that it wasn't recovery helping him.
It was alcohol.
A tiny amount.
But alcohol all the same.
The realization made him feel sick.
Lillian smiled.
"I'm glad."
Sebastian forced a smile in return.
Then looked away.
Unable to say anything.
That afternoon Ellie decided they were building a castle.
A very large castle.
One that apparently required every block she owned.
Sebastian sat on the floor beside her.
Following instructions.
Because Ellie had many instructions.
And she expected them to be followed.
"Daddy."
"Hm?"
"That goes there."
Sebastian looked at the block in his hand.
Then at the tower.
Then back at the block.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep."
"It doesn't seem structurally sound."
Ellie frowned.
"Daddy."
"Okay."
Sebastian immediately obeyed.
Because apparently he answered to a three-year-old now.
The castle slowly took shape.
Crooked.
Unstable.
And according to Ellie, perfect.
She sat back and admired it proudly.
Then looked at Sebastian.
A bright smile spread across her face.
"I'm happy you're here."
The words were simple.
Innocent.
Yet they hit harder than anything else that day.
Sebastian felt his chest tighten.
Ellie smiled again.
"I'm happy you're staying with us."
For a moment he couldn't speak.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Because she meant every word.
And she had no idea what he was hiding.
Eventually he managed a small smile.
"I'm happy too."
The guilt lingered long after the conversation ended.
That night he barely slept.
Again.
By Monday morning the routine repeated itself.
Breakfast.
School.
Goodbye hugs.
The apartment door closing.
Silence.
Sebastian found himself standing outside Lillian's room before he'd even consciously decided to go there.
That realization alone scared him.
Because it meant he wasn't choosing anymore.
He was following a habit.
Slowly he entered.
Opened the wardrobe.
Pulled out the box.
Then froze.
Something was different.
At first he couldn't identify it.
Then he looked closer.
The bottle.
The level had dropped.
Noticeably.
Not empty.
Not even close.
But lower.
Much lower than before.
Enough that somebody familiar with the bottle might notice.
Sebastian stared.
His pulse quickened.
For the first time real panic settled into his chest.
Because this wasn't invisible anymore.
There was evidence.
Physical evidence.
Proof.
Lillian might notice.
Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But eventually.
And if she did—
Sebastian didn't want to think about it.
His stomach twisted.
He considered pouring some out of another bottle.
No.
That was ridiculous.
He considered moving the box.
Worse.
Replacing it somehow.
Impossible.
Every solution required another lie.
Another secret.
Another mistake.
The realization left him feeling exhausted.
Yet despite all that—
Despite the guilt.
Despite the fear.
Despite the panic.
He still reached for the bottle.
And that frightened him more than anything else.
Afterward he returned everything exactly where it belonged.
Closed the wardrobe.
And stood there.
Staring at the cupboard door.
The apartment suddenly felt far too quiet.
Far too still.
For the first time, Sebastian allowed himself to acknowledge the truth.
This wasn't a mistake anymore.
It wasn't one bad day.
It wasn't one moment of weakness.
It wasn't even one sip.
It was becoming a habit.
A habit that looked disturbingly familiar.
A habit that had ruined his life once already.
The thought made his chest tighten.
Then suddenly—
The sound of a key turning in the front door echoed through the apartment.
Sebastian froze.
His heart immediately jumped into his throat.
Lillian wasn't supposed to be home yet.
Not for another hour.
The apartment door opened.
And Sebastian stood perfectly still in the middle of the bedroom.
Listening.
Not knowing whether she'd noticed where he was.
Not knowing whether she'd seen anything.
Not knowing if his secret had finally caught up to him.