The apology came together faster than Miranda expected—but the weight behind it didn’t.

Arnold handed over the draft. Miranda took it, her eyes moving across each line, slower and slower the further she read.

Every word felt like it was pressing her down.

Admitting fault. Acknowledging harm. Promising accountability.

None of it was easy.

“Post it,” she said at last, her voice tight.

Arnold hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded and stepped out to handle it.