Two days later, while rinsing dishes, my phone rang. My mom shouted for me to turn on the news, and suddenly Ruth was on-screen, sharing her story. The news anchor played footage of me kneeling beside her, and Ruth spoke directly to the camera, asking me to visit her family’s café so she could thank me properly. Before I could process it, Nina burst into the room excitedly, insisting that we go.

That weekend, Nina and I walked into a warm, bustling café filled with the smell of coffee and cinnamon. Conversations hushed as people recognized me, then applause broke out, leaving Nina beaming with pride. Ruth greeted us with open arms and a grateful smile before seating us like honored guests. As we talked, her daughter Virginia emerged from the kitchen with hot drinks and a kindness that felt instantly familiar. What began as a simple thank-you quickly shifted into an hour of conversation filled with laughter, stories, and a surprising sense of comfort. We visited again the next weekend, and then the one after that, until Saturday mornings at the café became a new tradition. Each visit brought more warmth, more connection, and slowly, a gentle widening of the world I had closed off after my wife’s death.