And I noticed something about my own reaction to her shifting stories: that I felt no urge to argue with any of them, no pull to correct the record or win the exchange.

Because the truth of what had happened did not depend on Pamela’s agreement.

My daughter had told me what was done to her, and I believed her, completely, and that belief was not a position in a debate that Pamela’s denials could weaken.

It was simply the ground I now stood on.

There is a particular freedom in that — in no longer needing the person who harmed your child to admit it.

Her denial could not touch my certainty.