I was seven months pregnant, exhausted and aching, just trying to get through the ride home.<\/p>\n
The bus was packed\u2014shoulder to shoulder, nowhere to move. Somehow, I\u2019d managed to get a seat, one hand resting on my belly, the other gripping the edge as the bus lurched forward.<\/p>\n
At the next stop, an old woman climbed in.<\/p>\n
She looked fragile. Thin, slow, holding onto the pole like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her eyes moved across the bus, silently asking for a seat.<\/p>\n
No one moved.<\/p>\n
Not the teenagers. Not the office workers pretending to sleep. No one.<\/p>\n
I hesitated for a second\u2026 then stood up.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, ma\u2019am,\u201d I said softly. \u201cYou can take my seat.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at me\u2014then at my stomach.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re pregnant,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be fine,\u201d I replied. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
After a moment, she nodded and sat down.<\/p>\n
I grabbed the overhead rail, trying to steady myself as the bus jerked along. My back throbbed, but I ignored it.<\/p>\n
What I couldn\u2019t ignore\u2026 was her.<\/p>\n
She kept staring at me.<\/p>\n
Not casually. Not kindly.<\/p>\n
Deep. Intense. Like she was trying to read something inside me.<\/p>\n
It made me uneasy.<\/p>\n
I avoided her gaze, but every time I looked down\u2026 she was still watching.<\/p>\n
Finally, her stop came.<\/p>\n
She stood up slowly, adjusting her coat. As she passed me, she leaned in closer than necessary\u2014and slipped something heavy into my coat pocket.<\/p>\n
I froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cWait\u2014\u201d I started, but she was already stepping off the bus.<\/p>\n
The doors closed.<\/p>\n
She was gone.<\/p>\n
My heart started pounding as I reached into my pocket.<\/p>\n
I pulled out a thick envelope.<\/p>\n
Old. Worn. Heavy.<\/p>\n
For a moment, I just stared at it, confused.<\/p>\n
Then I opened it.<\/p>\n
Inside\u2026 was cash.<\/p>\n
A lot of cash.<\/p>\n
More than I\u2019d ever held in my hands.<\/p>\n
My breath caught.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2026?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
But that wasn\u2019t the worst part.<\/p>\n
Behind the money\u2026 was a photograph.<\/p>\n
I flipped it over.<\/p>\n
And my blood ran cold.<\/p>\n
It was me.<\/p>\n
Standing outside my apartment building.<\/p>\n
Taken recently.<\/p>\n
My hands started shaking.<\/p>\n
How did she get this?<\/p>\n
Why did she have this?<\/p>\n
I turned the photo over.<\/p>\n
There was a message written on the back:<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been watching you. You remind me of someone I lost. You needed help, even if you didn\u2019t know it. Take it. Don\u2019t look for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
A chill ran down my spine.<\/p>\n
Watching me?<\/p>\n
For how long?<\/p>\n
Why me?<\/p>\n
Nothing about this felt right anymore.<\/p>\n
When I got home, I locked the door and counted the money.<\/p>\n
It was enough to cover my rent for months.<\/p>\n
Enough to take care of my baby.<\/p>\n
Enough to change everything.<\/p>\n
But I couldn\u2019t shake the feeling in my chest.<\/p>\n
This wasn\u2019t just kindness.<\/p>\n
It felt\u2026 intentional.<\/p>\n
Days passed.<\/p>\n
Then weeks.<\/p>\n
No sign of her.<\/p>\n
No explanation.<\/p>\n
Life slowly returned to normal.<\/p>\n
Until one night, I was going through the envelope again.<\/p>\n
Looking at the photo more closely.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when I saw it.<\/p>\n
In the reflection of the glass behind me\u2026<\/p>\n
There was someone else.<\/p>\n
Standing just a few feet away.<\/p>\n
Watching.<\/p>\n
My heart dropped.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t just her.<\/p>\n
And suddenly\u2026<\/p>\n
I realized something that made my stomach twist.<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t been chosen.<\/p>\n
I had been\u2026 followed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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