They carried the chair into the living room together.
Tom grabbed a few tools and began removing the worn upholstery while Maria prepared fabric she had saved from years ago when she worked at a furniture workshop.
He had barely started when he suddenly froze.
“Maria… come here!” he called.
She hurried over, worried something had gone wrong.
But when she saw what had made him stop, she stood there speechless.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Tom slowly sat back, looking stunned.
“Tom… are you alright?” Maria asked gently, touching his shoulder.
“I think so,” he replied quietly.
“Come to the kitchen. Breakfast is ready.”
Tom washed up and sat at the small kitchen table. The apartment was simple, but it had always been warm and welcoming.
He sighed.
“It doesn’t look like the pension payment will come before Christmas,” he said sadly. “We might not even be able to buy presents for the grandkids.”
Maria sat across from him with worry on her face.
“I only have about twenty dollars left,” she admitted. “And today’s already the twenty-ninth. My pension won’t arrive for another two weeks.”
Tom remained calm.