The airport was colder than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because of the stares. Carla pulled her jacket tighter around her, gripping her boarding pass like it was the only thing keeping her steady. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact as she moved through the terminal. Her scar was still healing, but already, it felt like it had become part of her identity. People didn’t see Carla anymore; they saw the jagged red line stretching from above her hairline, slicing through her brow and cheek,

Hilary stood in the church, her heart pounding with excitement and love. Dressed in a stunning white gown, she felt like the happiest woman alive. She was about to marry the man she adored, Myron. As she held his hands, looking deep into his eyes, the priest’s voice rang through the grand church. “If anyone has any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The church fell into a deep silence. Hilary’s heart raced as she anticipated the moment

David, a 78-year-old man, stood outside his house, drenched in the heavy rain, holding his two-year-old grandson, Noah, close to his chest. His heart ached as he watched the raging floodwaters tear apart the home he had built with love and hard work. Everything he owned was being washed away before his eyes, and he could do nothing to stop it. “Dear Lord, give me strength. What should I do now?” he cried out, his voice breaking with despair. David had suffered many hardships in life. He grew up in