His jaw tightened. “Instead I was damaging him.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“I see that now.”
There was accountability in his voice.
Yannis finally moved.
He raised his hands slowly.
His fingers formed deliberate shapes.
He signed carefully:
Is he ever coming out?
The question hit harder than anything spoken aloud.
I reached over instinctively and gently ruffled his hair.
My touch was reassuring — grounding.
“No, sweetheart.”
My voice softened. “It’s a life sentence.”
Yannis’s hands froze mid-air.
“He’ll be here for the rest of his life.”
The words were factual.
They weren’t delivered with cruelty — but with honesty.
Yannis’s face crumpled.
The realization landed on him fully.
This wasn’t temporary.
This wasn’t “maybe someday.”
His father would not walk free.
A single tear slipped down his cheek.
He had been holding that question inside for weeks.
He stood abruptly.
His chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Without looking at Ruslan —
Without saying goodbye —
He turned and walked toward the exit.
