On a crowded tram, a weary woman with a baby and heavy bag boarded, her exhaustion palpable. Despite the packed carriage, no one offered her a seat. Despite my own aching back, I stood and gestured for her to sit. She hesitated, then accepted with a faint nod, clutching her child tightly, whispering softly to them. Her eyes, full of gratitude and sorrow, stayed with me. At her stop, she left without a word. Later, I found a rain-soaked cloth

bundle in my bag—a wooden carving of a mother and child, with a note: “Thank you for your kindness. This charm was my grandmother’s. May it protect you and your child.” Tears welled as I realized she’d noticed my pregnancy. That small act of kindness, a single seat, became a profound lesson in hope and connection.