During those four hours, we shared bread, juice, stories, and laughter.
Little by little, Élodie and Clara began to open up. Three months later, we officially became their foster parents.
Thomas built bunk beds in their room, decorated with white flowers on a pink background. Élodie will start kindergarten soon, and Clara now talks nonstop.
They call us “Mr.
Thomas” and “Mr. Thomas-Marie.”
We never found their mother. The authorities discovered an abandoned car, but not her.
Their birthdays have become family celebrations — with our entire biker club joining in.
Clara still keeps her blue balloon, a reminder of the day she chose us. Today, they are our daughters.
And every time I see Thomas cry tears of joy, I think back to that morning at the bus stop — the day our lives changed forever, simply because we decided to stop.
