Ever wonder how NBA legends handle the moments that are not seen on the cameras? Behind all that slam dunks and championship dreams and on-court hardships, there are quiet moments that speak even louder. Moments where the jersey is off, the spotlight fades, and the real person steps forward. It’s in these spaces that vulnerability often replaces victory, and truth takes center stage. And, now, at the recent New York Times Wells Festival, Dwyane Wade opened a small but deeply emotional window into one of those moments…and it had nothing to do with basketball but his own blood.

Sitting comfortably on stage, Dwyane Wade wasn’t just reflecting on trophies or teammates. The conversation shifted when the co-host brought up something more intimate: “You talked about how way back when you would leave a blank notebook… to your son, Zaire.” That single detail cracked open a powerful story of fatherhood and his learnings to connect with his boy. Back in 2011, following a tough custody battle with his ex-wife Siohvaughn Funches, Dwyane Wade was granted full custody of his kids, Zaire and Zaya.

Nine-year-old Zaire was struggling with the transition. “That’s hard. That’s hard on the kids to separate the kids from either parent, and specially their mother,” Wade explained at the festival. But for him, the problem was different. “So I did not, I couldn’t even say I understood Zaire, I don’t even know if he had the words to be able to express,” He added. Solution? A unique one. “I just said this is how we would communicate: write your words down, and every morning I get it I read and I’ll write something back because it’s easier sometimes to express yourself through a pen and a pad.” For Wade, every move had a reason; this, too, had one.

“So at a at 9 years old I’m sure he didn’t have the words that he can verbally say to his father and I’m 6’4 i’m 200 and some pounds i’m a little you know it’s a little intimidating but I wanted him to have a space where he felt safe that he can express himself about his mother about the transition about life.” It wasn’t about fixing things overnight. It was about giving his son space. The outcome? “It was good for me to wake up and kind of read the thoughts and the feelings and saw him over time, things that he was concerned about early, started getting less and less and less as he was writing.” Dwyane Wade said.

What started as a father trying to understand his son became a quiet exchange of love and growth. Slowly, the notebook helped Zaire open up. Dwyane Wade, in return, learned how to show up, not as a basketball star, but as a dad.

And through it all, the notebook stayed constant. No matter where Wade was…on the road….in the playoffs or home late at night, it always found its way between their doors. “It became our thing,” Dwyane Wade said. “Even when I was exhausted, I made time to read it, to write back.” That small act, just pen and paper, became the thread that kept them connected.

Every story has two sides, and Zaire, too, had notebook memory

That notebook? It became their secret language. “I would leave it under his door,” Zaire shared in a previous interview, “and then, whenever he got back from a road trip, he would see it, open it, write his own thing, and leave it back under my door.” No conversation was forced. No feelings were judged. Just paper, ink, and honesty.

“It was good,” Zaire said. “Cause I never really knew how to express by talking.” The blank pages gave him control over his feelings. The quiet made room for truth. “It wasn’t just a notebook,” he added as he emphasized that the notebook became their way of understanding each other.

The back-and-forth created a bond that outlasted seasons. “You saw him over the course of time,” Wade said. The more Zaire wrote, the lighter his heart became. Dwyane Wade showed up in the only way he could, consistently, and with love.

And Wade himself changed, too. “I just was like—alright, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he told The Atlantic. But he knew one thing—he didn’t want to repeat the emotional distance he felt growing up. “Me, I’m kissing you on the forehead,” he said. “I’m coming off the road at three in the morning. I’m tucking you in. I’m showing you love.”

A blank notebook. A pen. Two hearts trying to reach each other. And every night, they got a little closer.