‘Not that we can skip proving it.’

By then I had returned to work most weekdays.

My supervisor, Mr.

Shah, gave me a seat near the window and a stack of ordinary reconciliation files.

A shipping business had reported inconsistent fuel charges.

For three hours I matched invoices with dates and vehicle logs, a task so routine it almost felt sacred.

I was no longer a frightened daughter staring at a green notebook.

I was a professional with a job to do.