yourmyloutus
He has everything people are supposed to want. Money that never runs out, a glass house that stays spotless, a life built so carefully it looks untouchable from the outside. But inside, it's quiet in the wrong ways. His wife is gone, taken in an accident that didn't leave anything behind except a child too small to understand and a man who doesn't know how to be what's needed.
His son doesn't speak much. He cries instead, loud and constant, overwhelmed by a world that never softens for him. The doctors call it autism. The staff call it difficult. He doesn't call it anything at all. He just works longer hours, signs more papers, fills the silence with everything that isn't what he lost.
The house runs on routine. Nannies come and go. Lights turn on and off at the same time every day. The crying never stops.
Until one day, it does.
It isn't gradual. It isn't better. It just... stops.