I didn’t think. I didn’t calculate. I simply opened my purse and pulled out the emergency cash I kept tucked away for situations I hoped would never come.
I counted out nine hundred dollars and placed it in her hand, gently folding her fingers around it before she could object.
“Take this,” I said firmly but kindly. “It’s not a loan. You don’t owe me anything. Just use it to get through the next few weeks.”
Her eyes widened.
“I can’t,” she said. “That’s too much. I wouldn’t even know how to pay you back.”
“You don’t need to,” I replied. “Just focus on yourself and your baby. That’s what matters.”
She stared at the money for a moment, then pulled it close to her chest, tears spilling again—this time quieter, softer.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I watched her walk slowly back to her house, shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
When I went back inside, Tom was waiting.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “People have to learn to handle their own problems.”
I didn’t argue. I’d learned that kindness and logic didn’t speak the same language to him.
