Chapter 4 - FIVE SIMPLE WORDS
“Who are you?” Shiomara whispered, her voice cracking as she looked from the elegant woman to the two powerful men flanking her.
The silver-haired woman tried to speak, but her throat tightened completely, and a choked sob caught in her chest as tears finally spilled over her lashes and traced down her cheeks.
One of the men stepped forward, placing his palms flat on the metal edge of the cart. His eyes were bright with unshed tears. His voice was remarkably soft when he broke the heavy silence.
“You gave the three of us food.”
Shiomara stared at him blankly, her mind struggling to process the impossible sentence. The words hung in the warm afternoon air, refusing to settle into her rational thoughts.
The woman covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking softly as she wept openly.
Shiomara’s heart slammed violently against her ribs. Fed them? When? Where? Could it really be...?
Then the second man—tall, with sharp, distinguished features and an expensive tailored suit—spoke up, uttering five simple words that instantly bridged over forty years of history, tearing down every wall of time:
“We were those kids... under the bridge.”
The color drained entirely from Shiomara’s face. Her grip on the food cart loosened, her fingers going completely numb.
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As she looked between the elegant woman and the two powerful men, the staggering, breathtaking realization washed over her in a tidal wave. These strangers weren't health inspectors, corporate land grabbers, or dangerous creditors. They were the three desperate, starving children she had fed out of a paper bag on a freezing sidewalk when she had nothing left to give the world.
And as the stunned, pin-drop silence deepened around them on the crowded street, the silver-haired woman slowly reached one trembling hand inside the deep pocket of her cashmere coat...
