Under the flickering light of a closed shop’s awning stood two little girls — twins, no older than eight or nine, drenched from head to toe, clutching each other in silence. Their hair was plastered to their faces, their lips pale from the cold.

“Dad,” Ethan whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “They look scared.”

Daniel hesitated. Life had taught him to be careful — he barely earned enough to feed himself and his son. But something in the twins’ faces — that raw fear, that quiet plea — struck a chord deep within him.

He approached slowly. “Hey there,” he said softly. “Are you lost?”