The city bus rattled through the afternoon traffic, and I sat there with one hand on my belly, feeling the gentle kicks of the little life growing inside me.
Seven months pregnant, I was exhausted but filled with quiet excitement about the journey ahead. When an older woman stepped onto the crowded bus, clutching her handbag and glancing around for a seat, I stood up right away and offered mine. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled and sat down, thanking me softly. I thought that was the end of it — just a small act of kindness on an ordinary day — but it turned into something far more meaningful than I ever expected.
Throughout the ride, I noticed her glancing at me occasionally, her expression warm and thoughtful. It wasn’t uncomfortable — it was almost as if she saw something familiar in me. When the bus slowed at her stop, she gathered her things and steadied herself. Then, before stepping off, she reached over and slipped something into the pocket of my coat. “Take care of yourself, dear,” she whispered. The doors closed behind her, and I sat there stunned, unsure what she had just given me.
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