*Ask what protects the most vulnerable person in the room. That question will rarely fail you.*
*I love you beyond language.*
*Mom*
I set the pages in my lap. The room was quiet except for the clock on the mantel. I expected to break down completely. Instead the tears came slow, almost peaceful.
Walter knelt in front of me — not like a chairman, like a grandfather asking to be forgiven. "I'm so sorry."
"You should have given it to me."
"Yes."
"I needed her."
"I know."
"You don't get to decide when someone's grief is ready."
"No," he said. "I don't."
I leaned forward and put my arms around him. He held on tight, his shoulders shaking once. "I missed her too," he whispered.
Something between us, damaged that morning, began — slowly, honestly — to mend.
---
My phone buzzed an hour later. Derek.
"Ravi—Arjun sent the archive index," he said. "Legal's assembling the rest. But there's something strange. The earliest ethical charter on file is labeled Version Two."
