After a long shift, I stopped to help a young woman, Miranda, stranded on the side of the road in labor. She was a fortune teller, running from an abusive husband. I offered her shelter at my home, where she could rest with her newborn until she was ready to move on.

The next morning, I woke to find my daughter, Sarah, missing from her room. Panic surged through me, but when I checked Miranda’s room, I found Sarah fast asleep beside her. Miranda explained that she had comforted Sarah, who had been crying in her sleep, talking about her late mother. Miranda had told her a comforting story about a guardian who kept bad dreams away, soothing her enough to fall asleep in her arms.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Sarah had been struggling since her mother’s death, and Miranda’s gentle presence seemed to offer what I couldn’t—a mother’s touch. I asked Miranda to stay longer, knowing it would help Sarah heal. She agreed.

Over time, Sarah grew closer to Miranda, finding comfort in her stories. One morning, Sarah woke, excited to hear more. The atmosphere in our home shifted, lighter and warmer than it had been in years.

In an unexpected twist, Miranda, who had come into our lives by chance, brought us peace. She had become a motherly figure to Sarah, and in doing so, healed both our broken hearts.