Seven months pregnant and exhausted, I offered my seat to an older woman on the bus without a second thought. She sat beside me, smiling in a way that felt warm and familiar, like I reminded her of someone she once loved. We rode quietly, sharing small smiles as the city passed by.
When the bus reached her stop, she stood slowly and slipped something into my coat pocket. She didn’t explain—just gave me a soft, knowing smile before stepping off and disappearing into the crowd.
Curious, I reached into my pocket and found a delicate old locket. Inside was a faded photo of a young mother holding a newborn, and a small handwritten note: “Thank you. Years ago, someone offered me their seat when I carried my child. I never forgot.”
Tears filled my eyes as I held the locket against my palm. With one quiet gesture, a stranger had passed kindness forward through time. I rested my hand on my belly and promised myself I’d do the same—one gentle act at a time.
