“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just came to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” I asked. “For what?”
The Story I Never Knew
His name was Mike. He told me he was a mechanic — a single dad. Years ago, his daughter, Kaylee, had been diagnosed with leukemia. She was nine at the time.
Insurance covered some of her treatment, but not all. Mike worked double shifts, sold his house, even organized fundraisers through his motorcycle club. Still, they were $40,000 short of what they needed.
“I was breaking,” he said. “I thought I was going to lose her.”
One day, in the hospital corridor, he’d broken down completely. Sarah — who wasn’t even assigned to his daughter’s unit — found him sitting on the floor.
“She asked if I was okay,” he said. “And I told her everything — that my baby was dying and I couldn’t afford to save her.”
Sarah, being Sarah, had listened. No judgment. No platitudes. Just that soft, steady kindness she was known for.
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