Isayanna I watch him struggle with his words. Each one feels like it’s being dragged out of him, a weight he’s carried for too long. He recounts everything—leaving no detail hidden, no stone unturned. I can see it in the way his voice wavers, how his shoulders tense as if bracing for an invisible blow. He’s trying so hard not to cry in front of me, and all I want to do is reach out, wrap my arms around him, and tell him it’s okay to fall apart. But I hold back. Time, they say, heals all wounds. But as I sit here, listening to Jaydon pour out his pain, I know that isn’t entirely true. Time doesn’t heal—it only dulls the edges, makes the pain a little easier to carry. Jaydon is healing, though he doesn’t seem to realize it. For the entire year I’ve worked for him, I had no idea he was carrying this kind of burden. All I saw was a man who was distant, harsh, and unapproachable. I thought he was cold by choice, not because he was drowning in grief. Now, hearing his story, it’s as if
Last Updated : 2026-05-11
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