Elena hesitated. Her job, her safety, her future balanced on the next words. Leo’s fingers tightened around hers. She lifted her chin.
“Not afraid of something,” she said. “Afraid of someone.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Images collided in Alexander’s mind—the bruises explained away, the way Leo went rigid whenever Charlotte entered a room, the constant insistence on sedation. He remembered how Charlotte always placed a hand on Leo’s neck during appointments.
“To calm him,” she said.
Now the memory tasted rotten.
“Explain,” Alexander whispered.
“When she’s here,” Elena said quickly, “he disappears. He stops reacting. The doctors only see that version of him because she’s always there. Talking. Touching. He freezes.”
Alexander stood, nausea rising in his throat.
“I need to see him,” he said. “Without her.”
Elena hesitated.
“I’m not trained—”
“Please,” he interrupted, his authority gone, replaced by desperation. “I need to know if my son is still there.”
Elena slipped off her gloves and placed them on the grass, as if shedding fear itself. She straightened, hummed softly, a simple lullaby. She opened her arms.
“Leo… the plane is leaving.”
Leo looked at her. Then at his father.