Running Toward Home

Chapter Eight ~ The Warning (PART 1)

(PART 1)

Lyn hadn’t meant to be there so long.

The girls were off on the playground. Their laughter carried faintly through the crisp morning air.

She had stayed behind for a moment, slumping against the cold wall of the social services office. Her stomach fluttered with the baby’s movements, but it did little to calm the storm of panic and despair building inside her.

She pressed her face into her hands, trying to hold back the tears, but they came anyway.

Hot, uncontrollable, a release she had been denying herself since everything had fallen apart.

She felt utterly exposed, utterly alone.

“Hey,” a voice said softly from behind her.

She jumped slightly, wiping at her eyes. A woman, maybe in her early thirties, with a kind but sharp face, stood a few feet away, holding a clipboard. “It’s okay,” the woman said gently. “You can cry. Nobody’s judging you here.”

Lyn shook her head. “No . . . I . . . I don’t even know where to start. Everything . . . everything’s gone.”

The woman knelt down beside her on the bench, keeping a respectful distance but close enough to be steadying. “Tell me,” she said. “Start anywhere. Just . . . tell me.”

And Lyn did.

She told her about Ethan, the betrayal, Vivian, the divorce papers, the cut-off bank accounts, and the for-sale sign outside her home. She told her about the baby she carried, the girls, the feeling of having the floor ripped out from under her life. She spoke in broken, jagged sentences, her voice quivering but urgent.

The stranger listened quietly, never interrupting. Only nodded. Only offered a soft, grounding presence in a world that had stopped making sense.

After a long silence, the stranger spoke again. “Can I see your ID?”

Lyn froze. “What?”

“Your driver’s license, your birth certificate, anything that proves who you are,” the woman said gently. “I want to help you, and I can’t do that without knowing exactly who you are.”

Lyn hesitated, instinctively pulling her hands into her lap. But something in the woman’s calm, steady eyes made her hand over her wallet, her trembling fingers pulling out her license.

The stranger held it carefully, snapping a quick photo with her phone. “Don’t worry,” she said, laughing softly at Lyn’s shocked expression. “I work for a lawyer. That’s it. I need this so I can set you up with an appointment. Tomorrow, ten o’clock. Be there. No excuses. I’ll be there to make sure you get in.”

Lyn blinked, overwhelmed, the weight in her chest shifting slightly. “You… you’ll help me?” she whispered as though the word itself had been lost to her for years.

“Yes,” the woman said simply, handing her a small, neat card. “Ten o’clock. Come alone, if you can. Don’t let anyone else know yet. Tomorrow, we start figuring out how to protect you and your children. For now… take a deep breath. You’re not completely alone.”

Lyn nodded, clutching the card as though it were a lifeline. She watched the woman walk away, her figure retreating into the crowd of people bustling past the office. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of hope.

(To Be Continued)