The next morning, I woke before Jesse, determined to make a plan. The garage was still, save for the soft rustling of leaves outside. I pulled out my phone and began searching for resources — shelters, hotlines, community support groups. I refused to let pride prevent me from asking for help. I realized that strength didn’t mean facing everything alone; it meant knowing when to lean on others.
Later, Jesse and I met with a social worker at a local community center. She was kind, her eyes filled with empathy as she listened to our story. “You’re not alone,” she assured us, handing me a list of resources and contacts. “There are people who can help you rebuild.”
