Charlotte had rebuilt her life the same way.
People later described what I did as rescuing the girl who had once rescued me.
That version made a better story, but it was not true.
I did not give Charlotte her dignity.
She had carried it through grief, debt, closed doors, exhausting shifts, and every stranger who treated her uniform as proof that she mattered less.
All I did was recognize her at a moment when the world had stopped looking closely.
She had done the same for me first.
That was the chance I used—not to make her feel indebted, not to display my success, and not to turn one kind night into a lifetime obligation.
I used it to open a door without dragging her through it.
Charlotte walked through on her own.
