She was always punctual, always quiet, commuting nearly two hours every day by bus and train from a distant suburb. She never complained. And now she stood in his kitchen, whispering into her phone, asking her own mother for help just to buy a single can of milk for her baby.
Just a few feet away, a young mother didn’t even have 450 dollars for lactose-free formula for her eight-month-old son. Daniel stood there, stunned.
“Four hundred fifty dollars…” he thought. “How can someone not have that?”
Something stirred in his chest—something unfamiliar. Not pity. Something deeper. A harsh realization that there are struggles no amount of wealth shields you from.
Quietly, he stepped away and walked to his private office. His mind, trained for business, immediately began breaking things down into numbers. Rent, transportation, food, formula. Maria’s words echoed: “This formula is too expensive… I’ll figure something out before I get paid.”