We sat at the same kitchen table, though it had been replaced years ago. He talked about what happened after that night. About shelters. Long days of work. Nights spent studying. Failures, setbacks, and the memory that kept him going when he wanted to quit.
“That night,” he said quietly, “reminded me I still mattered.”
“Open it.”
I took a breath and lifted the cover.
And in that moment, as I scanned the first page, my heart began to race—because whatever was inside that folder was far bigger than I ever could have imagined.
