Her name was Megan Carter, though no one inside would have recognized her in that moment. Her face was pale, her lips trembling, her eyes darting over her shoulder as if she expected someone to come crashing through that door after her. But no one did. The storm swallowed her quickly, rain soaking through her clothes, her hair clinging to her face as she stumbled toward the far corner of the alley where a dented metal dumpster leaned crookedly against a crumbling wall.
The bundle in her arms shifted.
A soft cry broke through the rain.
Megan froze.
For a second, it looked like she might turn back, like she might run inside and undo everything—but instead, she dropped to her knees, her breathing uneven, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the blanket steady.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking apart under the weight of everything she couldn’t say out loud. “I wish… I wish I could do this differently…”
The baby cried louder, the small sound sharp against the storm, cutting through the noise like something fragile refusing to disappear. Megan squeezed her eyes shut, tears mixing with the rain, and for a moment she pressed the child closer to her chest like she couldn’t bear to let go.
