The sun was unusually warm that day, yet my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
It had been weeks since that rainy night, weeks since I'd stood up with his help. But in all that time, I couldn't get his words out of my mind.
"Sometimes, the hardest part isn't standing up. It's believing you still deserve to."
That one sentence had carved itself so deeply into me, I felt it in every breath.
I had started taking small steps—literally and figuratively.
I found a part-time cleaning job at a small bakery. The pay was barely enough for food, but at least it was honest work. And every morning, with my son strapped to my chest and my two daughters holding my hands tightly, I walked through the same streets that had once swallowed me whole.
The stares still came.
Pity.
Judgment.
Some people even whispered when they thought I couldn't hear.
But I kept walking.
Because if I stopped, I might never start again.
It was during one of those exhausting mornings, right after I'd finished scrubbing the bakery floors, that fate decided to remind me it wasn't done with me yet.
The small church bell rang nearby, a familiar sound that always made my heart ache with both comfort and pain.
Emma tugged on my sleeve.
"Mommy, can we go light a candle again?" she asked, her voice soft, her eyes hopeful.
I hesitated.
My legs ached, my back screamed from hours of bending over, and all I wanted was to collapse.
But then I saw May, her little face turned toward the church, her small hands clasped together as if she were already praying.
I forced a smile. "Okay. Just for a little while."
The church was quiet and warm.
For a moment, it felt like stepping into a place untouched by the harshness of the world.
As we walked down the aisle to the small altar, I didn't notice the man seated quietly near the back.
Not until I turned to leave.
Our eyes met.
My breath hitched.
It was him.
The same man from that night… and from the market before.
But this time, something shifted.
He didn't look at me like I was broken.
He looked at me like I had already survived.
And for the first time…
I allowed myself to believe that maybe…
He was right.