Ethan was standing by the window, still in yesterday’s dress shoes, exhausted but calm.
Victor turned his head slowly.
“You saved my life,” he whispered.
Ethan looked at him.
“No,” he said. “I did my job.”
Victor’s eyes filled again.
“I don’t deserve that.”
“No,” Ethan answered. “You don’t.”
Then he placed a folder on the bedside table.
Victor stared at it.
“What is that?”
“My graduation speech,” Ethan said. “The full version. I cut some of it short after you collapsed.”
Victor’s lips trembled.
Ethan walked to the door, then paused.
“You taught me something important,” he said. “You taught me what kind of man I never wanted to become.”
