I saw my daughter begging in the street while carrying her baby… She told me her husband had… When I stopped at the red light, I saw my daughter begging, counting coins while holding her baby in her arms.

I opened the door and stepped out without thinking, the heat of the pavement seeping through the soles of my shoes as I wrapped my arms around her. She felt smaller than I remembered, lighter, like a part of her had been worn away by time and hardship. The baby stirred between us, letting out a sharp cry that cut through the noise of traffic.

I guided Natalie into the passenger seat and closed the door, my movements careful and deliberate, as though the wrong gesture might cause her to disappear. When I sat back behind the wheel, my hands were shaking so badly that I had to rest them on my thighs until I could trust them again.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Natalie stared straight ahead, her eyes glossy with tears she seemed determined not to release.

“They took everything,” she finally whispered. “The money, the car, even my identification. My husband said it was for security, that he would handle it better than I could. His mother said I was weak, that I would never survive on my own. And I believed them, Dad, because I wanted my family to work.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing against my chest.