AISLYN The hall empties slowly after the kneeling ends.

I let them go without stopping anyone. This moment isn’t for ceremony anymore. It’s for reckoning.

My father waits near the far archway.

He looks smaller than I remember.

Not physically, he’s still tall, still broad-shouldered, but something essential has caved inward.

I walk toward him anyway.

Dyer moves with me without question, his presence a steady heat at my side. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His hand brushes mine ...