In the Dark, We Chose - the Valentine Reset
Copyright© 2026 by Sci-FiTy1972
Chapter 4: Fault Lines
The rain started before dawn.
Not the kind that washed things clean— the kind that soaked in slowly and stayed.
Tom stood in the doorway of the garage watching it fall, the gray sky pressing low over the neighborhood like a lid. The street looked smaller in rain. Narrower. The houses leaned toward each other, no longer separate, just clustered shapes holding secrets.
Three days ago, this had been a place where people argued about parking spots and yard lines.
Now it felt like a place where every window hid a question.
How long do you have?
Sarah stood beside him, hands tucked into the sleeves of an old hoodie she’d borrowed from his mom. It was too big on her, the fabric hanging off her shoulders in a way that made her look younger than she was. Or maybe just more human.
“They’re going to notice the generator again tonight,” she said.
Tom nodded. “I know.”
“We can’t keep pretending we’re invisible.”
“We’re not,” Tom replied. “We’re just not loud.”
Sarah glanced at him. “That only works for so long.”
The rain hit harder against the pavement, a steady whisper of water and consequence.
The argument came before lunch.
Tom heard it from the basement—his mother’s voice rising, then his own answering back in a tone he didn’t like hearing from himself.
By the time Sarah reached the top of the stairs, the air in the kitchen was thick with words that hadn’t been said kindly.
“We can’t just sit here,” Nora Bryan said, hands braced against the counter. “People are freezing. They’re scared. We have power, Tom. We have warmth. We can help.”
Tom stood across from her, arms crossed, posture already defensive. “We can help quietly. We can’t open the house to everyone.”
Her eyes flashed. “That’s not who we are.”
Tom’s jaw tightened. “It is now.”
Silence dropped between them like something fragile breaking.
Sarah stepped in before it could cut deeper.
“Nora,” she said gently, “Tom’s not saying no to helping. He’s saying yes to staying safe.”
Nora turned to her, pain and confusion mixing in her eyes. “I raised him to believe in people.”
Sarah met her gaze. “You raised him to protect people too. Sometimes that means choosing how you help.”
Nora looked at her son again.
And for the first time since the blackout, Tom saw something shift in his mother’s face—not defeat, but understanding.
She exhaled slowly. “I don’t want him to become hard.”
Tom’s voice softened. “I don’t want to become careless.”
Nora nodded once.
That was the end of the argument.
But not the end of the fault line it revealed.
Later, when the house had settled into its new quiet rhythm, Sarah found Tom sitting alone in the living room, staring at the rain sliding down the darkened windows.
“You hate fighting with her,” Sarah said.
He didn’t look at her. “I hate that I sound like my dad when I do.”
She crossed the room and sat in the chair across from him. “Your dad made choices for control. You’re making choices for protection. They’re not the same.”
Tom shook his head. “They feel the same.”
Sarah leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Then let me tell you what I see.”
He finally looked up.
“I see a man who stayed up all night checking the generator so his mom wouldn’t panic. I see someone who walked into the rain yesterday to help a neighbor breathe. I see someone who doesn’t like the idea of power but keeps taking responsibility anyway.”
She held his gaze.
“That’s not control. That’s courage.”
Tom swallowed.
He looked away again, but the tightness in his chest eased just a little.
That evening, the rain turned colder.
The house dimmed early. They shut down everything but one lamp upstairs and the basement light below. Shadows filled the corners like they belonged there now.
They gathered in the basement—not because it was warm, but because it felt like the center of their world had moved underground.
Sarah sat on the couch, knees tucked under her. Tom leaned against the wall across from her, arms folded, eyes distant.
The tablet lay on the table between them.
They hadn’t touched it since his father’s message.
“You ever think about what you’d be doing right now if this hadn’t happened?” Sarah asked quietly.
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