I kept myself busy in small ways—shopping for groceries, attending weekly book club meetings, and exchanging pleasantries with neighbors. But underneath the routine was an aching loneliness that I had learned to mask with a polite smile.

One ordinary afternoon, while coming back from the grocery store, I saw her. A young woman, sitting by the roadside, cradling a small baby wrapped in a worn blanket. There was something about the way she held the baby, so protectively, that tugged at my heart. She reminded me of Gianna, in a way—vulnerable but strong. Her face was hidden, but her posture told a story of exhaustion and desperation. I felt a pull to approach her, a feeling I couldn’t ignore.