He rarely spoke during their meetings. Most days, Hayden simply sat across from her, elbows on his knees, knuckles folded together as if in prayer. His eyes weren’t angry anymore. They weren’t soft either. They just… were. Still. Heavy. Tired.

He didn’t need to scream or shatter furniture for Lidia to know the storm still lived inside him. It sat right behind those eyes. Every time she glanced into them, she saw it, those five years compressed into a single ache he refused to name. And he never asked about Evelyn. Not directly. But sometimes he’d pause mid-thought, or silence would stretch longer than usual… and Lidia would know.