Dess squats in front of Kayden, cleaning his ice-cream-smeared cheeks.
She's talking a lot, trying to get him to do the same, but he's unresponsive.
He just keeps staring. Communicating by either nodding, shaking, or pointing.
He's mute.
No, not dumb—of course not—but a selective mute.
I knew something was off when Dess got emotional last night when he rushed into the kitchen to announce my arrival.
Thirty minutes with them, and my hunch proves correct beyond reasonable doubts.
Kayden doesn't speak.
He shies away from doing so, but for some reasons, he trusts me enough to speak when I'm around.
Maybe it's that father-son bond.
Or maybe it's a sense of resonance.
Not many people know this, but I was mute for a while when I was younger.
My mom died in an accident that I survived,
