He reached for the high shelf without thinking, the way you reach for the light switch in your own hallway in the dark.

It was not knowledge he had acquired.

It was muscle memory he had never lost.

And watching my daughter beam over a recovered toy, delighted by a kindness from a man she called Daddy Sebastian, I felt the last of my doubt go quiet, replaced by a grief and a fury I had to work very hard to keep off my face.

Sebastian could not have known it.