Therapy helped, and gradually Mason rediscovered old hobbies, joined his robotics club again, and laughed freely. Teachers noticed the change too, naming him “Most Resilient Student” at year’s end. Seeing his pride-filled smile, I knew healing had begun.
Today, Mason is home full-time. Music hums from behind his door, notebooks clutter his desk, and hopeful reminders line the walls. He teases me, negotiates for new hair dye, and asks for help when needed.
I’ve learned love isn’t just letting go—it’s knowing when to step in. Mason didn’t need distance; he needed stability, attention to quiet signs, and someone who would show up when silence became a cry for help. I am grateful every day that I listened.
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