I stopped.

 

The sound came from the bus stop up ahead.

 

I walked closer and froze. There, on the metal bench, lay a newborn baby, wrapped in thin, dirty blankets that did nothing against the freezing air. His tiny face was red from crying, his little body shivering. There was no mother, no note, no bag — nothing. Just a helpless child abandoned to the cold.

 

Without thinking, I ripped off my own coat, wrapped it around him, and cradled him against my chest.

 

“You’re okay now,” I whispered, my heart racing. “I’ve got you.”

 

I ran home as fast as I could. My mother-in-law, Margaret, was there; together, we warmed him, fed him, and called the police. When the officers finally took him into their arms and carried him away, an ache opened inside me — sharp and unexpected, as if I’d just lost someone I was supposed to protect.