Stanley had learned, somewhere between leaving Derry and building a life that stayed built, that fear was a habit you could break. Twenty five years on, he stood at the edge of the old town line with his wife beside him, the July air warm and unremarkable, and felt nothing claw at his chest. Derry looked smaller. Ordinary. He didn’t come back like a man bracing for impact. He came back like someone who knew the map and trusted his feet. The reunion invitation sat folded in his jacket pocket, unnecessary but real.

They met at a rented hall off Main, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead. Bill saw Stanley first and smiled, wide and startled. “You actually came,” Bill said, half laughing. “Of course I did,” Stanley replied, easy. Richie whistled low. “Holy hell, you look… stable.” Ben shook Stanley’s hand, solid and familiar. Bev hugged him. Eddie hovered, then nodded, relieved. Stanley introduced his wife simply, a hand warm at their back, a presence that needed no explanation.

They took a long table near the windows. Glasses clinked. Old stories surfaced without ceremony. “Remember the dam?” Ben said. Richie groaned. “I was young. I was stupid.” Stanley smiled. “You were loud,” he said. Laughter moved through them, not forced, not sharp. When silence came, it didn’t bite. Stanley noticed how the town failed to lean in, how nothing watched from the corners. He felt the quiet and trusted it.

Eddie finally asked it. “So you’re really okay being here?” Stanley didn’t dodge it. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m done being afraid of a place that doesn’t get to own me.” Bill studied him, something like gratitude in his eyes. Bev glanced at Stanley’s wife, then back at him, and nodded once. “That makes sense,” she said. No one argued. The weight they used to carry had learned to set itself down.

Later, outside, dusk cooling the pavement, Richie lit a cigarette he didn’t finish. “Guess we all made it,” he said. Stanley looked at his wife, then at the others. “We did,” he said. Cars passed. Derry stayed quiet. There was no final stand, no pulse under the street. Just people who had survived and kept going, who could stand together without flinching.

When they parted, promises were light but sincere. “Next time,” Ben said. “Somewhere else,” Eddie added quickly. Stanley laughed, genuine. He walked away with his wife, hand steady, back unguarded.