Jacob leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. "Son," he began carefully, choosing his words with visible effort, "there's something else we need to talk about."
Micah's gaze flicked up warily.
"We've noticed changes," Jacob continued. "You're not sleeping properly. The lights in your room stay on until late. You barely eat at dinner."
He swallowed hard, his voice softer now. "You've stopped going out unless it's for university. You don't see your friends. You don't answer calls. You lock yourself in your room for hours." He hesitated briefly before adding, "You won't even go on a date with your… friend."
Micah blinked.
Elina nodded gravely. "When you broke down and cried that day, we thought maybe it helped. That afterwards, slowly, you would begin to return to yourself." She exhaled slowly. "But you haven't. You still isolate yourself. You barely speak at meals. You avoid eye contact."
Elina's eyes filled with tears. "We're scared, Micah."
