Leo nodded. He was good at not overthinking. He was excellent at not feeling.
For the first time, Leo’s eyes welled. Not from sadness. From the terror of being truly seen.
Outside, the winter sun cut low through the blinds. The test lay between them—not a diagnosis, but a door. On the other side was not a cure, but a beginning: the slow, unglamorous work of learning that a person is not a blueprint. A person is a question that never ends.
Leo nodded. He was good at not overthinking. He was excellent at not feeling.
For the first time, Leo’s eyes welled. Not from sadness. From the terror of being truly seen.
Outside, the winter sun cut low through the blinds. The test lay between them—not a diagnosis, but a door. On the other side was not a cure, but a beginning: the slow, unglamorous work of learning that a person is not a blueprint. A person is a question that never ends.
