“We haven’t eaten since yesterday,” she admitted quietly, barely meeting my eyes.

My chest ached.

“Is there someone you can call?” I asked gently. “Family? Friends?”

She shook her head. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it. But… thank you. Truly.”

I could tell she was frightened—not just cold, but wary. Like too many questions might send her running. So I didn’t push. I didn’t pry.

I just made sure she ate. That the baby stayed warm.

Before we parted ways, she held my coat tighter around her and whispered, “I won’t forget this.”

I watched her walk away, the coat nearly dragging on the ground, and felt something strange in my chest—like my wife had just nodded in approval.

I believed that was the end of it.