Alex felt it in his chest, that slow press of helplessness that came whenever someone was broken in a way he couldn’t reach. He nodded, jaw tight, and followed her down the hallway with Brad at his side. The closer they got, the more the knot in his stomach pulled taut. When they reached the room, the door was open.
Mara was sitting in a chair by the window. Still. Silent. Pale. She looked like a girl caught mid-thought and then abandoned by her own mind. Her eyes didn’t track as they entered. Her hands rested limply in her lap.
Alex stepped in first, something like guilt clawing its way up his throat. He crouched down in front of her, close but not invasive, trying to find any flicker in her eyes.
“Hey, Mara,” he said gently. “I’m Alex. You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you. We’re just here to be with you. That’s all.”
Her eyes didn’t move. No blink. No flicker. Just the shallow rhythm of her breathing, as steady and mechanical as Sophie described.
Alex kept his voice low, soft. “You’ve been through more than anyone should. And I don’t expect you to do anything you’re not ready for. I just want you to know—we’re here to spend time with you.”
Nothing. Not even the smallest shift.
He stayed there a little longer, but the silence began to feel colder. It wasn’t rejection. It wasn’t fear. It was absence.
He swallowed hard and slowly stood. Brad stepped in next. He didn’t crouch—he stood tall but softened his tone, his movements. A different kind of energy. Not gentle like Alex. Guiding. Present. Assured. Dominant.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Brad said, voice firm but kind. “Look at me.”
There was a pause. And then—so slight, it could’ve been imagined—Mara’s head tilted, just a fraction of an inch.
Alex saw it.
Brad kept going. “You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But I need you to hear this. You are still here. You’re not invisible. You’re not gone. And I’ve got you.”
Another pause. Then, barely perceptible, her fingers twitched in her lap. Not fidgeting. Just a signal that some part of her felt that voice. That tone. That presence.
Alex felt the lump in his throat tighten. It wasn’t much. But it was something.
Brad backed off carefully. No celebration. Just quiet understanding. They exchanged a look—both men feeling the exact same thing: heartbreak and the tiniest flicker of hope. The kind that hurt even more because it asked you to believe again.
Sophie stood near the doorway, arms still crossed, chewing at her thumbnail without realizing it. Her eyes were glassy, darting between Mara and the two men like she was keeping watch for something she couldn’t name.
Alex moved beside her, keeping his voice low. “She responded to him.”
“I saw,” Sophie whispered, voice cracking. “It’s the first time she’s done anything on her own.”
Alex glanced back at Mara, still unmoving in her chair, the faintest trace of life slowly bleeding back into her shape. He said quietly, “We will get her back. Whatever it takes.”
Sophie just nodded, her arms still tight across her chest like she was holding herself together with sheer will. Inside the room, Mara sat silent, haunted. But for the first time since admission, she wasn’t entirely gone.
Brad turned back to her. “You did well, Mara. I’ll see you later.”
When they stepped into the corridor, Sophie turned to Brad. “You broke through. She responded.”
“I’ll come back this afternoon and try again,” he said.
“I think it would be good for both of you to come back. You have two different styles. Styles that may work.” She inhaled hard and turned to Alex.
“Is my mom still giving you hell?” Sophie let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh, but there was no real humor in it. “Honestly? I’m more worried about her than anything she’s saying. She’s shutting down, Alex. Pushing people away.” She hesitated, then looked at him. “Especially you.”
Alex nodded slowly, the words hitting something familiar inside him. “Thanks for telling me. But… I won’t talk about my relationship with your mom.”
Sophie didn’t press. Just looked at him with those sad, knowing eyes—the kind that had already seen the potential ending before anyone else admitted it was coming.
“I just don’t want her to lose the one person who’s actually stayed,” she said softly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
