Margaret shook her head, crying.
“I didn’t help you for this.”

“I know,” he said, holding her hands. “That’s why you deserve it.”

Later, Margaret lived in a small, sunny house with a garden. But she still woke early every morning, baked bread, and shared it with those who had nothing.

And Henry—every time he passed that old market—lowered his head.

Because he knew a single act of kindness had saved his life.