She stammered, clearly caught off-guard by his intervention. “It’s just policy, sir…”

“Then perhaps it’s time to reconsider policies that lack compassion,” he replied, his voice carrying a conviction that seemed to resonate with those around us. Heads turned, and murmurs of agreement spread through the café.

The manager appeared, alerted by the commotion, and after a brief exchange with the man, offered a sincere apology. It turned out that our unexpected advocate was a well-respected local lawyer named Mr. Gilmore, known for his work on family rights. He’d seen us and felt compelled to step in.

Thanks to him, Amy and I were offered a seat by the window, where we could watch the rain dance on the pavement while I finished feeding her. The warmth returned, not just from the tea I sipped, but from the kindness of a stranger who reminded us both that justice, though rare, could walk in unannounced and change everything.