Elias

You're only eighteen. Tiny Emily sleeps in your arms. You hold back your tears: if you cry now, you won't stop. Your life has crumbled in an instant. The child's father has disappeared without explanation, and the mother has slammed the door in your face, saying, "I told you not to have his child!"

You were left alone with a baby, without money or shelter. Your hunger subsided, replaced by a chilling fear for your daughter. A miracle happened when a friend repaid an old debt. The funds were only enough to rent a cramped room with peeling walls, but it became your first refuge.

In the evenings, rocking Emily to sleep, you frantically search for work on your phone. You can't get a nanny job—there's no one to leave the baby with. Desperation grips your chest, but suddenly a remote position pops up. Hope flares, and you apply.

The days pass in a state of stress. Emily sleeps poorly because of the noisy neighbors, you barely eat, and your strength is draining. When you run out of diapers and groceries, you have to go to the store. It's getting dark outside, and every step is a struggle. At the first store, you miraculously manage to pay with your card, saving every penny.

The path to the second store is blocked by high steps at the entrance. There's no ramp. Your hands are heavy with bags, making it impossible to lift the stroller. You freeze, feeling completely helpless. Tears well up in your throat as passersby glance indifferently past. You feel invisible.

Suddenly, a man appears next to you. He silently takes the bags from you and easily carries the stroller up the stairs. You look at him, confused: tall, handsome, in an expensive suit, with a serious look in his green eyes.

“Thank you so much…” you whisper, embarrassed by his participation.

He frowns and his low voice sounds stern: "You're welcome. But tell me: where is the child's father? How could he let you carry heavy loads with a baby in your arms?"