I Gave Money to a Poor Woman with a Baby — The Next Morning, I Was Shocked to See She Was Doing Something at My Husband’s Grave

Just the ghost of him, now splintered into pieces I didn’t recognize.

By the third sleepless night, something shifted in me. And the air around me felt different.

The anger sort of ebbed, leaving only a strange ache for the baby. He was just an innocent little boy caught in the storm that his parents had created.

The next morning, I drove back to the cemetery, hoping to see her again. I didn’t know why… maybe I needed proof. Or maybe I just wanted closure.

But she wasn’t there.

I made my way to her house after that. I remembered her saying something about living in an apartment above the local supermarket. There was only one in town, so that narrowed it down perfectly.

I parked outside and stared at the cracked windows, the peeling paint, and my stomach turned. How could she raise a baby here?

How could James have let her live in these conditions? Hadn’t he cared more? The thought made me sick. I was already struggling with his infidelity, but this just made everything seem worse.

Before I knew it, I was walking into the grocery store, buying a cartful of groceries and a stuffed bear from one of the displays. And then I made my way up the dingy staircase in the alley between two buildings.

She answered the door, her face a mask of shock when she saw me.

“I don’t want anything,” I said quickly. “But I thought… you might need help. For him.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she stepped aside, letting me in. The baby lay on a blanket on the floor, gnawing on a teething ring. He looked up at me with James’ eyes.

As I set the groceries down, something in me loosened. Maybe James had betrayed me, yes. And maybe he’d lived a lie. But the baby wasn’t a lie.

This child was real, and he was here.

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