Peter led them through his property to the garage. Inside, he grabbed blankets and pillows, hastily arranging a corner into a makeshift bed. The children, Ben and Lucy, clung to their mother, their wide eyes darting around nervously. “I’m Peter. You’ll be safe here,” he reassured them. The mother’s name was Natalie.
That night, Peter found sleep elusive. He lay awake in his king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, questions swirling in his mind. Had he done the right thing? Was this kindness, or naivety? A small voice within whispered that it didn’t matter—helping was what mattered.