They arrived two days later. Same A-road that evening.
About six miles in, an SUV came over the brow of the hill. Full LED matrix. High-set. The exact type that had taken away my four seconds last October.
I gripped the wheel out of habit.
The light hit the lenses.
Amber. Soft and completely manageable — not blinding white. The road stayed exactly where it was supposed to be. White line clear. Verge visible. The bend ahead already in sight.
I kept driving.
Got home forty minutes later and my wife looked up from the sofa.
"You're not doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you come in and stand in the kitchen for a bit. You do it every night when you've driven home in the dark. I never said anything but I always noticed."
I hadn't realised I was doing it. Decompressing from the tension, I suppose. From forty minutes of waiting for the next set of headlights.
That night I went straight to the sofa.