Michael Dawson now lived alone outside Providence, working sporadically, his name stripped of influence. When asked about the incident, he called it a misunderstanding that had been exaggerated.
Ana finished her program the following year. She worked nights at a rehabilitation center, saving steadily. Her coworkers knew nothing about the accusation, nothing about the footage.
They only knew she was dependable. Careful. Unbreakable in quiet ways.
And somewhere, time-stamped and untouched, the truth remained exactly as it had been.
