Rachel’s expression softened.

“That’s a question the evidence may never answer.”

I hated that.

Not because I expected the answer to be yes, but because some part of me still wanted a simple explanation for fourteen months of ordinary tenderness.

She had remembered my coffee order and warmed my hands when I came in from winter work.

She had sat beside me when I spoke about Elena.

It was difficult to accept that kindness could be practiced by someone capable of calculating harm.