Michael broke down in tears. In the days that followed, Noah explained what had happened weeks earlier. A jostle in the hallway. A pen cap between his teeth. A sudden start. A moment he had thought insignificant.
The recovery was slow, but it happened. Michael didn’t forget Owen. Six months later, Harbor Hands reopened in a new form. Bright rooms. Real beds. A library. A place where children were no longer invisible.
One evening, Michael was sitting with Noah under the stars.
« Is it still complicated? » Noah asked softly.
Michael smiled, finally understanding.
« No. It never was. »
Inside, Owen laughed with the other children, and a man who had long believed that success was the only thing that mattered was finally learning what it really meant: seeing others.
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