“You took the worst things they did to you and turned them into something useful.”

“I just wanted to build something that lasts,” I said, looking at the restored sideboard.

I walked over to the cradle.

Maisie woke up, her blue eyes blinking in the soft light.

She reached her tiny hands toward me, gurgling softly.

I lifted her out of the cradle, holding her warm body against my chest.

She smelled of baby powder and clean cotton.

“Hello, Maisie Hartwell,” I whispered to her.

She rested her head against my shoulder, her breathing steady and calm.

Through the tall windows, the sun broke through the clouds, lighting up the dust motes dancing in the air of the workshop.

The rain had finally gone.

My father stood beside me, his arm resting gently on my shoulder.

We stood there together, looking out at the city, knowing we had finally found our peace.