Instead, they reminded me of what had survived.
The company had launched a scholarship program for the children of shipyard employees. We had created an independent ethics committee, hired outside auditors, and placed safeguards around the family trust.
Tobias had joined the board as a rehabilitation and safety adviser. He was still learning to live openly after so many years of hiding, but he no longer used a wheelchair except when his doctors recommended it during recovery exercises.
Sometimes, I caught him standing near our father’s old office, looking at the photograph of our parents.
Neither of us spoke about that morning unless we were ready.
We were learning that healing did not require pretending the past had never happened.
That afternoon, Tobias came to my office carrying two cups of coffee.
“No warm milk?” I asked.
He gave me a crooked smile.
“Never again.”
I laughed, and the sound surprised me.
