The day after that, a sandwich. It became a quiet, unspoken routine. Whoever was behind it never said a word, and neither did I. But each day, I felt a little less invisible, a little more cared for. Those small acts of kindness gave me hope during a time when everything felt heavy.

Months later, my classmate Joy invited me over for dinner. I hesitated at first—I wasn’t used to going to friends’ houses anymore because I didn’t want them to see how different my life had become. But Joy insisted, and something about her smile made it hard to say no. When I walked into her home, I was struck by the warmth. The smell of fresh bread filled the air, and laughter echoed from the kitchen. As we sat down to eat, Joy’s mom placed a perfectly baked pie on the