I replayed the moment over and over, realizing how close fear had come to rewriting the truth. In the dark, my instincts had filled the silence with danger, turning kindness into threat. Yet that man had chased me not to harm me, but to protect something precious—my memories, my identity, my connection to someone I loved and lost.
The next morning, the city looked different. The same streets felt softer, the same faces less distant. I still stayed cautious—because caution matters—but I carried something new with me alongside it: perspective.
Not every shadow hides danger. Not every stranger has bad intentions. Sometimes, the person running toward you is only trying to give something back.
And whenever I think the world is growing colder, I remember a taxi driver at 3 a.m., breathless on a stairwell, choosing honesty over convenience—choosing kindness, even when it scared someone first.
That lesson stayed with me longer than the fear ever did.
