We walked back to the shelter in silence, the warmth of the evening settling between us. When we arrived, a familiar face was waiting outside. It was her, the young woman who’d bumped into me earlier.
Her eyes widened with relief as she spotted us.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing over to Ben and hugging him tightly. “We were so worried about you. We should notify the police you’re back.”
Ben squeezed her hand, mumbling, “I was okay.
Dennis helped me.”
The woman looked up at me, her expression softening. “Thank you so much for bringing him back.” She let out a breath, then added with a tired smile, “I’m Sarah. I volunteer here.
We’ve been searching for him since this afternoon.”
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” I said, realizing this must be more than a chance meeting. We stood there for a moment, caught in a quiet, shared relief. She looked exhausted, her face a mix of worry and something else—hurt, maybe.
I hesitated, then asked, “Rough night?”
She nodded, looking away.
“I found out my boyfriend… well, he was cheating on me. Tonight, of all nights.” She laughed sadly, brushing a tear away. “But I guess that’s how it goes.”
On impulse, I blurted, “Well… would you maybe like to get a coffee?”
She looked down at Ben, then back at me.
“Actually… I’d love that.”
Over the next few months, I found myself at the shelter often. Sarah and I would meet there, talking for hours and helping out together.
The more time we spent, the closer we grew, both to each other and to Ben. He seemed to shine whenever we were all together, and soon the shelter felt like the home I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.
By the time the next Christmas rolled around, everything had changed.
Sarah and I were now married, and Ben had officially become our son. That Christmas Eve, we went back to the square, the three of us hand in hand, surrounded by laughter and lights.
We watched the skaters, sipped our hot cocoa, and felt at peace as our own little family, a miracle in the making.
Source: amomama
