I drove home that evening with the certificate on the passenger seat and my father’s watch marking every mile.
At a red light, I touched two fingers to the crystal out of habit.
Tap.
Then I stopped.
I did not need to create the rhythm anymore.
The watch was making its own.
I rested my hand on the steering wheel as the light changed and moved forward with the soft ticking at my wrist, no longer trying to prove that hesitation had vanished, only knowing I could meet the next difficult moment without letting the last one decide who I was.
