For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel all of it.
Maria looked away respectfully, but Jason turned to her.
“How long have you been doing this with him?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Several weeks.”
“Several weeks?” Jason repeated, stunned. “And he’s already—”
“He’s stronger than he knows,” Maria said quietly. “He just needed someone to stay beside him. Someone patient. Someone who believed he wasn’t broken.”
Jason felt the words slice straight through him. For years, he had thrown money at doctors, therapists, equipment. Everything except time. Everything except presence.
And Maria—this gentle stranger—had filled the void he hadn’t realized was hurting his son the most.
He hugged Ethan tighter.
“I’m here now,” Jason murmured. “I promise.”
Maria rose slowly. “Let me prepare warm towels.”
Jason watched her disappear into the house. When she was gone, he whispered to his son:
“How did you get so brave?”
Ethan pointed to the water. “Water makes it easier. I don’t fall so hard.”
Jason felt tears slip down his face. He brushed Ethan’s wet curls. “You can fall a thousand times,” he whispered, “and I will always catch you.”
Ethan blinked. “Even if I’m loud?”
“Even if you’re loud.”
“Even if I cry?”
“Especially if you cry.”
Ethan smiled, pressing his head to Jason’s chest.
Jason breathed in the moment, wishing he could hold time still.
