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I thought pulling over that afternoon was nothing more than basic human decency. An elderly woman had been in an accident, alone on the side of the road, and I did what any responsible person would do. At least, that’s what I told myself at the time. I had no idea that stopping for a stranger would quietly reroute my entire life, reshaping grief, family, and hope in ways I never could have planned .
Three years earlier, cancer had taken my wife. Not gradually, not gently, but with a speed that left no room for preparation. One day we were arguing about paint colors for the kitchen, the next I was standing in a hospital hallway staring at a wall I couldn’t bring myself to touch. Losing her didn’t just break my heart; it dismantled the future we had built together piece by piece.
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