Isabella’s throat tightened.
“I won’t let this happen to you,” she whispered.
Her voice shook.
She looked around the park.
No one was nearby. The rain had driven everyone away.
Who would leave babies here?
Why?
She didn’t know.
But she did know one thing.
If she walked away, the babies might not survive the cold night.
Isabella swallowed hard.
The basket was heavy, but she gripped the handle with both hands and lifted it.
Her arms trembled immediately.
“You’re heavier than you look,” she murmured.
Step by step, slipping on wet pavement, she carried the basket out of the park.
Her destination was the only place she had in the world—an abandoned warehouse near the edge of town.
It wasn’t really a home.
Just four cracked walls, broken windows, and a roof that leaked when it rained.
But it was shelter.
And tonight, it would have to be enough.
By the time Isabella reached the warehouse, her arms felt like they might fall off.
She pushed the creaky door open with her shoulder.
Inside, the air smelled like dust and damp wood.
A few old crates sat against the wall. Isabella had pushed them together weeks ago to make a place to sleep.
She gently set the basket down.
The babies stirred.
One of them began to whimper.
“Oh no… don’t cry,” Isabella said quickly.
She had never taken care of babies before.
But instinct pushed her forward.
She removed her own thin scarf and tucked it around them like another blanket.
“There,” she whispered.
The crying quieted.
She exhaled slowly.
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