Supervised playrooms. Peace. I posted photos.
Tagged him. Smiled genuinely for the first time in months. When Gregory returned home, tan and smug, he found silence.
And a note. When I came back days later, he was different. Quieter.
Smaller somehow. He cried that night. He apologized—not defensively, not hurriedly—but deeply.
I don’t know what happens next. But I know this: I will never accept being invisible again. And he will never forget the lesson I taught him.
