Page 102 of Dose

“That does not make it easier.”

“No. Usually the true things are the least convenient.”

I look at her. “You stayed with Nikolai after he held you prisoner.”

Jenna’s expression does not change. “I did.”

“Did you forgive him?”

“No.” The answer comes without hesitation. “I love him. I chose the life we built afterward. I also know what he did to me, and I don’t rename it because I love the man he became.”

“How do you keep those things separate?”

“Some days I don’t.” She adjusts the cushion again. “Some days I’m furious. Some days what we have now feels bigger than what came before. Both are mine.”

I press the heel of my hand against my sternum.

“I keep thinking accountability should feel different from self-destruction.”

“It does from the outside.” Jenna’s gaze drops to my hand. “Accountability changes your behavior. Self-destruction just hurts you. The problem is that hurting can feel like proof you’re taking it seriously.”

I think of Cassandra multiplying the same children into different totals. I think of the untouched toast.

“Phoenix does not balance Site Nine,” I say.

“No. Those sixty-three children are not weights on your side of a scale.” Her voice sharpens. “They are alive. Medically supported. Away from the people who were dosing them. You don’t use them to purchase forgiveness, but you don’t get to declare their rescue meaningless either.”

The distinction settles somewhere I cannot reach yet.

Jenna takes my hand and presses it to the curve of her belly. A small movement meets my palm, then another.

“The past doesn’t become smaller,” she says. “Your life becomes larger. If you let it.”

We sit without speaking until the baby stops moving.

That evening, I find Nikolai alone in the Chamber.

Cascade’s live traffic fills the central display. The dormant access made its first connection without triggering an alarm. Dominic is still testing the path, and the Seattle gate remains closed until the full review tomorrow.

“I want to be considered for Seattle,” I say.

Nikolai turns from the display. “You are already part of the planning team.”

“I mean inside. With the medical and records group.”

“Why?”

The question is not a refusal. It is worse: room to answer badly.

“The pharmacy specifications from Cascade use Site Nine notation. I can reconcile them faster on site than anyone else. I know the cold-chain exceptions and the likely storage aliases. If a child’s records don’t match the stock, I can identify which discrepancy matters.”

“That is your operational case. What is your personal one?”

I look at Cassandra’s summary on the side display.

“I want to do something with what I know.”

“Action is not penance.”