"That's a useful distinction."
Nia continued.
"I don't need Derek to become my friend. I don't need the academy to make me a symbol. I want the same rules to apply whether the student is a beginner, a champion, or someone nobody has heard of."
Nia stopped to read it.
But she knew that writing a policy was only the beginning.
Would Victor still stand by the policy then?
Nia could not answer those questions yet.
Adrian Cole replied to Nia's email on Friday morning.
His message was polite, carefully worded, and almost entirely unhelpful.
Nia read the email twice.
She recognized the language.
She replied with one question.
But it was not proof of intimidation, either.
Then she called Marcus.
"That sounds familiar," he said.
"Do you think he was trying to threaten you?"
"I don't know whether he thought of it that way. He was very good at making pressure sound like practical advice."
"Can you explain?"
"He never said, 'Do this or you'll lose your opportunities.' He said things like, 'You need to understand how the industry works,' or, 'People remember who creates difficulties.'"
Nia listened.
"That leaves you wondering whether he's warning you about other people or telling you what he intends to do."
"Exactly."
"Did he ever identify anyone who might refuse to work with you?"
"No."
"Did you have evidence that he interfered with your opportunities?"
"No."
"That's why I never made a formal accusation against him. I knew what he had said. I knew how it made me feel. But I couldn't prove that he was responsible for what happened afterward."
Nia understood.
The truth required more than choosing the explanation that felt most satisfying.
That afternoon, Dr. Shaw contacted Nia to confirm that the correspondence had been added to the review file.
Nia agreed.
Derek had begun attending regular training sessions again, although he was not permitted to supervise other students.
When a student declined a difficult round, he accepted the decision.
Melissa remained uncertain.
She watched him carefully but did not make a point of avoiding him.
One evening, Derek approached her after class.
"Can I ask you something?"
Melissa tightened the strap on her gym bag.
"Sure."
"I heard you spoke with Dr. Shaw."
Melissa's expression changed.
"Who told you that?"
"No one. I assumed you might have."
"Why?"
"Because I know I made you uncomfortable."
She studied him.
"Are you asking me what I told her?"
"No. I'm asking whether there's anything you think I should understand."
Melissa considered the question.
Instead, she said, "You made people feel that being accepted by you was more important than feeling safe."
Derek looked down.
"I didn't think of it that way."
"That's the problem. You didn't think about what it felt like from the other side."
He nodded slowly.
Melissa continued.
"When you joked about people tapping, everyone laughed because you were the person who decided whether someone was tough enough. If you laughed at them, other people knew they could laugh, too."
Derek rubbed his hands together.
"I understand."
"No, you understand the words. Whether you understand the effect is something else."
He accepted the criticism.
Melissa was surprised by how much that mattered.
But it gave her a reason to wait before deciding that nothing could change.
Across town, Nia received another message from the unknown account.
Instead, she took a screenshot, saved the message, and forwarded it to the appropriate people.
Then she placed the phone on the table.
She would not allow an anonymous message to determine what she believed.
He asked how the review was progressing.
"I'm glad someone independent is looking at the records," he said.
"So am I."
He hesitated.
"Have you thought about what you'll do if they never establish who sent the messages?"
Nia looked at him.
"Yes."
"And?"
"I'll still have to decide how I want to live."
"That sounds like something your mother would have said."
Nia laughed.
"She probably said it to me a hundred times."
Then Thomas said, "I owe you another apology."
"For what?"
"For teaching you that being strong meant handling things yourself."
Nia studied him.
"You also taught me to ask for help when I needed it."
"Perhaps. But I praised you so often for being independent that I didn't always notice when you were lonely."
"When Ironbridge pushed you out, you acted as though you were fine. You kept training. You found other opportunities. You never asked anyone to rescue you."
"Because I didn't want to be rescued."
"I know. But sometimes I mistook your determination for proof that you weren't hurting."
Nia looked down.
She remembered how angry she had been during those years.
She had not wanted anyone to see her disappointment because she feared they would interpret it as weakness.
But composure could become another form of isolation.
"I was hurting," she admitted.
"I know that now."
They sat quietly.
Then Nia reached across the table and touched his hand.
"You were trying to help me."