He came home shattered.
Not crying loudly. Not screaming. Just… empty. The kind of silence that hurts more than anything else. That night, he cried himself to sleep. And the next morning? He refused to go back. One day turned into two. Then three. Then five. And with each day, I watched him retreat further into himself, like he was trying to disappear from a world that suddenly felt too big, too harsh, too unforgiving.
