The city was moving at its usual late-afternoon pace — horns in the distance, the hum of traffic, people trying to get home before the evening settled in. I climbed onto the bus with a hand resting on my belly, feeling the gentle kicks of the little life growing inside me. At seven months along, every movement felt like a quiet hello. I was tired, but also deeply grateful for this new chapter that was slowly unfolding.
The bus was crowded, every seat taken, every aisle narrow with bags and bundled jackets. I found a seat near the middle and sank into it, enjoying the brief moment of stillness. When the next stop arrived, an elderly woman stepped aboard. She held her handbag close and paused to steady herself as she looked around for a place to sit.
