Chapter 10: Words Left Unsaid
Winter approached, painting the ridge with thin layers of frost each morning. The small apartment above the shop began to feel like a real home. A small TV sat in the corner, and school drawings were pinned to the refrigerator door.
One evening, while going through a box of Lara's belongings that had been shipped from her old apartment, Jax found a small leather journal tucked at the bottom.
He sat by the window while Leo slept, turning the yellowed pages. It was a diary Lara had kept during the years after he left. Page after page detailed her struggles, her moments of doubt, but above all, her unwavering love for their son.
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“I don't hold anger against Jax,” one entry read. “He was a boy raised by storms, so he thought he was a storm himself. I only hope that one day he realizes he is capable of building a shelter instead.”
Jax pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, tears silently escaping his eyes for the first time in decades. She hadn't hated him. She had understood him better than he had understood himself.
