He had heard the equivalent already, in the absence that defined the first five years of his life.

Words had failed him once.

What Leo demanded instead was the one thing that cannot be faked: showing up, repeatedly, reliably, over time, in small ordinary ways, until the accumulated weight of the showing-up became its own kind of proof, undeniable, unfakeable, earned.

And Alex understood the assignment.

He did not argue with the boy, did not insist on his own sincerity, did not try to talk his way past a five-year-old’s entirely justified skepticism.

He accepted the terms Leo set, which were the correct terms, the only terms that could possibly rebuild what had been broken: not I promise, but watch me.