The man was rushing to the airport for yet another flight when something along the way caught his eye, forcing him to stop.
That day had been ordinary in every way, save for the relentless rain pouring outside.
He was in a hurry to catch his plane when he spotted a woman standing in the downpour, a small child clinging to her. For a moment, he tried to ignore it and press on, but a pang of guilt made him pull over. Stepping out of the car, he approached her.
“Hello there,” he said. “How can I help? Why are you out here with this little one?”
“I’ve nowhere to go,” the woman replied. “My husband turned us out, and I dont know what will become of us.”
Without hesitation, the man pulled his house keys from his pocket and instructed his driver to take them home, ensuring they had everything they needed until his return.
The driver helped them into the car and drove them to the house while the man carried on to the airport.
Two weeks later, he returned from his travels and went straight to his home. Knocking brought no answer, so he pushed the unlocked door open.
What he saw inside left him speechless.
He froze on the threshold, his pulse quickening. In the sitting room stood a woman with a childbut they were not the faces he remembered from the rain.
Toys were neatly arranged on the floor, a warm supper waited on the table, and atop the piano lay a small note: *Thank you for your kindness. Were home now.*
Then his gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where another child sat curled beneath a soft blanket.
The boy was a stranger to Edmund, yet oddly familiarhis eyes were the same as the toddlers from that stormy day, though now he appeared nearly seven years old.
The woman looked up with a gentle smile, though worry lingered in her eyes. “He found us on his own. We call him our little miracle.”
Edmund felt the tension leave his body, but something deeper stirred within him. This was more than gratitudeit was a mystery, a secret waiting to unfold.
