Bright Steps Learning Center.
The same one Zayd had mentioned that night.
Amrita had already pieced it together. “He worked there. That was his job.”
I felt sick.
We watched his acceptance speech. His voice was deeper now, but still carried that calm. He thanked his foster mother, mentors, and then said something that made Amrita cry again:
“To those who believed in second chances—I remember you.
And to those who shut doors—I remember you, too.”
No bitterness. Just quiet resolve.
I hadn’t known I’d hurt him. That center closed three months after I flagged it. For me, it was a file. For him, maybe it was rent. Maybe survival.
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