Just like that.
She didn’t ask me. Didn’t tell me.
She just… saved me.
Because I had helped her.
Because I had seen her.
Because, in her words, “Women look out for women, especially when nobody else will.”
I broke then.
Completely.
Crying in the middle of the street, holding a letter from a woman who had nothing left to give—but gave anyway.
For me.
For my daughter.
For a future I thought had already been taken.
Later that day, my phone rang.
Lee.
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then I let it ring.
Because for the first time in months, I didn’t feel abandoned.
I felt… held.
That evening, I sat on my porch with her letter in my lap and my hand on my belly.
“We’re staying,” I whispered.
My daughter kicked again, softer this time.
Like she agreed.
