Baking Pies for Others Led to a Life-Changing Gift I Never Expected

In the weeks that followed, my life became unrecognizable. With no immediate family left to care for me, I was placed in a youth housing program. It was safe enough — clean, organized, structured — but it wasn’t home.

The building felt more like a waiting room for broken lives than a place of belonging. And while the staff did their best, grief wrapped itself around me like a fog I couldn’t shake.

My only living relative, an aunt named Denise, took half the insurance money that was supposed to help me. She promised to support me, to step in as family. Instead, she used it for herself.

Alone, untethered, and adrift, I wondered if life would ever feel full again.

Finding Comfort in Flour and Sugar

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