On my 76th birthday, my grandson handed me a small envelope, his hands trembling slightly as he offered it to me. I could tell something was troubling him, but I didn’t want to press him in that moment. His eyes darted around nervously, avoiding mine. ‘Thank you, Alex,’ I said warmly, giving him a slight hug. He just nodded, barely meeting my gaze before quickly moving on.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right… That morning, I woke up to find my entire family gathered to celebrate my birthday. Balloons and streamers decorated the living room, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. Everyone was there—Emma, Dave, the grandkids, and even some close friends. I was touched by the effort they had put into making my day special. Laughter and light-hearted banter filled the room, creating a warm, joyful atmosphere. There was an elaborate breakfast spread, and the room was filled with cheerful chatter. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and an assortment of pastries were laid out on the dining table. Emma had even made her famous blueberry muffins, which were my favorite. From the corner of my eye, I saw Alex nibbling on a piece of toast, looking more subdued than usual. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern for him. My favorite part of these gatherings was always seeing my grandson, Alex. His presence brought an extra layer of joy to any occasion. He had a way of making everyone laugh with his clever jokes and infectious smile. But today was different; his usual spark seemed dimmed. I decided to keep an eye on him, hoping it was just a passing mood. Still, it was hard to ignore the contrast from his usual self. When Alex finally arrived, I noticed he seemed unusually subdued. His shoulders were slumped, and he gave a weak smile as he entered the room. ‘Hey, Grandma,’ he said softly, barely audible over the lively conversations. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ I replied, giving him a gentle hug. He pulled away quickly and went to sit quietly in a corner. The unease settled deeper in my chest, and I knew something was bothering him. During the gift-giving, Alex handed me a small envelope, his hands trembling slightly, and I sensed something was off. The room was filled with laughter and the sound of wrapping paper being torn, but Alex’s demeanor stood in stark contrast. ‘Happy Birthday, Grandma,’ he muttered, avoiding my eyes. ‘Thank you, Alex,’ I replied, giving him a reassuring smile. Nonetheless, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this small envelope. I decided to set the envelope aside, planning to open it later when I had a moment to myself. There was too much commotion around to focus on it properly. Instead, I tried to immerse myself in the joyful atmosphere. However, the envelope weighed heavily on my mind. I tucked it into my purse and resolved to look at it later. In the meantime, I hoped to get a chance to talk to Alex. Throughout the day, I tried to engage Alex, but he remained distant. I approached him several times, hoping to spark a conversation or at least a smile. ‘Want to help me with the cake, Alex?’ I asked. ‘Sure, Grandma,’ he replied, but his actions were mechanical, devoid of enthusiasm. Each attempt to reach out was met with a polite yet distant response, deepening my worry about what could be troubling him. My daughter, Emma, assured me that Alex was just tired from school. ‘He’s had a lot on his plate lately, Mom,’ she said, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. ‘You know how teenagers can be.’ I nodded, trying to take her words to heart, but the gnawing sense of unease wouldn’t subside. Still, I didn’t want to read too much into it and ruin the festive spirit of the day. Yet, I couldn’t shake my unease as I watched him. I noticed his eyes darting around, and his fingers fidgeting whenever he thought no one was looking. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, honey?’ I asked him gently during a quiet moment. ‘Yeah, just tired,’ he mumbled, offering a weak smile. Despite his reassurances, the memory of his trembling hands and nervous eyes kept replaying in my mind, gnawing at me. As the day wound down and guests began to leave, I felt a tinge of sadness that the celebration was over. The laughter and chatter faded, replaced by the sound of dishes being cleaned and wrapping paper being gathered. Emma and Dave stayed to help me tidy up, while Alex remained quiet on the couch. I couldn’t help but glance at my purse, where the small envelope sat, still unopened. That evening, I decided to take a walk through my garden to clear my mind. The cool breeze and the scent of blooming flowers usually brought me peace, but tonight, my thoughts were clouded by worry. The memory of Alex’s distant demeanor and his trembling hands kept resurfacing. I had a strong urge to open the envelope, yet something told me to wait. I needed to understand what was truly bothering Alex. I couldn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alex’s anxious face. Was he in some sort of trouble? My mind raced with possibilities, each one more concerning than the last. The small envelope on my nightstand seemed to emit an almost tangible tension. I promised myself I would open it in the morning and, if needed, find a way to help him. Slowly, I drifted off, still uneasy. The next day, I finally remembered the envelope. I took a deep breath and sat in my favorite armchair, the morning sun casting a warm glow on the room. With trembling hands, I carefully unfolded the envelope and found a $1 bill inside. My initial curiosity turned into a sense of dread as I noticed writing on the bill. I read the message, and my heart immediately sank. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. On the $1 bill, a message was scrawled in hasty, shaky handwriting. My heart pounded as I read the words: ‘help me granma cal the policee on momy and dady.’ Shocked and uncertain, I re-read the message, hoping it was a mistake. But the words were clear, and the desperation behind them was palpable. I couldn’t ignore the gravity of the situation. I had to figure out what was going on. I sat there, feeling a mix of shock and confusion. Should I call the police right away? My mind raced with the possible implications of Alex’s message. Did Emma and Dave know something I didn’t? I decided to take a more measured approach, at least initially. My first step would be to understand the context of Alex’s plea. I needed to see them up close, and maybe, I could find some clues at their home. I made an excuse to visit Emma’s house, bringing over a batch of homemade cookies. Entering their home, I noted the familiar, cozy environment, but my eyes were keenly observing everyone. Emma and Dave seemed cheerful, but Alex’s behavior stood out. He looked uneasy, casting quick, nervous glances at his parents. There was something beneath the surface, but I couldn’t put my finger on it yet. I knew I needed to be careful. During the visit, I paid close attention to the interactions between Emma, Dave, and Alex. Emma tried to engage Alex in conversation, but he remained distant, giving one-word responses. Dave seemed a bit more controlling, subtly directing the conversation and activities. I felt a rising concern as I noticed Alex shrinking into himself, his eyes occasionally meeting mine as if pleading for help. My instincts told me that something was definitely wrong here. That evening, feeling more troubled than ever, I decided to discuss my concerns with my close friend, Margie. Over a cup of tea, I described my observations without revealing too much. ‘What do you think I should do?’ I asked. Margie encouraged me to trust my instincts but also to consider the broader picture. Her advice gave me a sense of direction. I knew I had to proceed cautiously to uncover the truth. Feeling more resolved after my conversation with Margie, I decided to keep a close eye on Alex and his parents. Rushing into action might do more harm than good. I needed solid evidence before making any drastic moves. I planned to gather as much information as I could without raising suspicion. All I wanted was to ensure Alex’s safety, and I would do whatever it took to protect him. The next steps had to be careful. I decided to contact Alex’s school to see if they had noticed any strange behavior from him. When I called and spoke to the school counselor, they confirmed that Alex had seemed withdrawn and distracted lately. ‘Has there been an incident or anything?’ I asked. The counselor hesitated, saying that Alex had a recent episode of distress. Alarm bells rang in my head, and I knew I needed to dig deeper. I scheduled a visit to the school’s counselor to discuss Alex further. Sitting in her modest office, I shared my concerns. ‘He’s been acting really distant,’ I began. ‘Has he said anything to you?’ The counselor shared that Alex had been unusually quiet and had an incident where he seemed particularly upset, but he wouldn’t reveal any details. I left feeling more concerned but also more resolved to figure this out. Determined to gather more evidence, I offered to babysit Alex one afternoon. While Emma and Dave were out, I discreetly looked around his room. I found a few scribbled notes that hinted at fear and confusion. Suddenly, Alex walked in, his eyes wide with fear. ‘Granma, what are you doing?’ he asked. I hugged him tightly, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright, even though my heart was pounding with worry. Alex’s reaction confirmed my worst fears. As I held him, I whispered, ‘You can tell me anything, sweetheart.’ He remained silent but clung to me tightly. I couldn’t push him further in that moment. When Emma and Dave returned, things seemed normal enough, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to act soon. Back at home, I made notes of everything I had observed to organize my thoughts. Back at home, I reviewed all the evidence I had gathered. Scribbling notes on a notepad, I listed out potential next steps. Talking to a lawyer or a child psychologist seemed prudent, but I felt that direct action might be needed given the urgency. I wrote down everything I knew and mentally prepared myself for a possible confrontation. The weight of my decision loomed large, making sleep elusive that night. The following day, Emma and Dave showed up at my place unannounced. They seemed agitated and subtly confrontational. ‘Have you noticed anything unusual about Alex?’ Emma asked. Trying to stay calm, I replied, ‘Nothing out of the ordinary, why?’ Their tension was palpable. Once they left, it became clear to me that they might suspect I knew something. My heart raced; I had to act fast before they could thwart my plans. That night, I made an anonymous call to Child Protective Services. Explaining my concerns without revealing my identity, I detailed what Alex had written. ‘Please investigate,’ I urged. Hanging up, I felt a sense of temporary relief. The next morning, I watched Emma and Dave closely, hoping to see any signs of distress. Their behavior seemed tense, but not enough to indicate they knew about my call. I arranged another meeting with Alex’s school counselor, this time detailing the disturbing note I had found. ‘This sounds serious,’ the counselor said, her brow furrowing. ‘If you believe Alex is in immediate danger, you need to contact the police.’ Her words echoed in my mind as I nodded, thanking her for her time. I left the school more certain than ever that taking immediate action was necessary. With my heart pounding, I dialed the police number. I explained the situation: the note, Alex’s behavior, everything. ‘We’ll send someone over immediately,’ the officer assured me. When the police arrived at Emma and Dave’s house, the tension was palpable. They questioned everyone while I revealed the message Alex had written on the $1 bill. The revelation sent shock waves through the family, but it was only the beginning. As the police continued their questioning, a heavy silence filled the room. Emma and Dave appeared visibly shaken, their earlier composure cracking. Alex stayed close to me, his small hand gripping mine tightly. The officer read the note aloud, and its impact was immediate. Emma began to cry, and Dave’s face turned pale. The truth was beginning to surface, and I knew our lives would never be the same again. As the police probed deeper, Emma and Dave became increasingly defensive. ‘We’ve always done our best for Alex!’ Emma insisted tearfully. Dave glared at the officers, his jaw clenched. Amid the rising tension, Alex stayed glued to my side, his anxiety evident. In their defensive posture, subtle cracks appeared, hinting at secrets they had tried so hard to keep hidden. I sensed that they were hiding something significant. I held Alex close, whispering words of comfort. ‘It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,’ I said softly. His grip on my hand tightened. The police continued their questioning, trying to peel back the layers of Emma and Dave’s lives. I kept a protective arm around Alex, ready to support him no matter what. As each minute passed, the veneer of normalcy they had carefully maintained seemed to crumble. In a quiet, strained voice, Emma began to speak. ‘We’ve been under a lot of pressure,’ she admitted, tears streaming down her face. Dave shot her a look, but she continued. ‘Financial trouble, work stress—it’s been overwhelming.’ The officer leaned in, taking careful notes. This unexpected admission added more complexity to the situation. While it didn’t explain Alex’s plea, it painted a clearer picture of the family dynamics. Dave’s frustration finally boiled over. ‘Why are we being treated like criminals?’ he demanded, his voice rising. The officers remained calm, explaining the need for thorough investigation given the seriousness of Alex’s note. ‘We just want to ensure Alex’s safety,’ one officer said. Dave’s aggressive stance only added to my concerns. I tightened my grip on Alex, feeling his small frame tremble against mine. ‘Emma, please understand,’ I said gently, trying to calm the situation. She nodded, still sobbing. ‘We have nothing to hide,’ she whispered. But the look in her eyes told a different story. She cast worried glances at Alex, as if fearing what he might reveal next. Through her tears, I saw a mix of fear and guilt that further confirmed my suspicions. She seemed close to breaking. Seeing his parents’ distress, Alex seemed conflicted. ‘Alex, do you want to say anything?’ the officer asked gently. He looked up at me, his eyes filling with tears. ‘It’s okay, honey,’ I encouraged. He hesitated, biting his lip. The fear in his eyes was evident, but he finally nodded, as if gathering the courage to speak. The room fell silent, everyone waiting for his words. ‘They… They argue a lot,’ Alex said, his voice barely a whisper. ‘And sometimes… it’s scary.’ His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Emma sobbed louder, while Dave clenched his fists, looking away. The officers took notes diligently, their serious expressions underscoring the gravity of Alex’s confession. It wasn’t the full story, but it was enough to deepen the investigation. My heart ached for him. Emma suddenly turned to Alex, her eyes red and swollen. ‘I’m so sorry, Alex,’ she cried. ‘We never meant for you to feel this way.’ Her apology seemed sincere, but it raised more questions than answers. I watched as Alex’s face softened, but his grip on my hand didn’t relax. The officers exchanged glances, recognizing the complexity of the situation. Emma’s words suggested regret, but we needed the full truth. The police continued their questioning, focusing on uncovering any signs of abuse or neglect. ‘We need to ensure Alex’s safety,’ one officer reiterated. Emma and Dave seemed cornered, their earlier defensiveness giving way to a tense silence. With each question, the atmosphere grew heavier. Alex leaned into me, drawing strength from my presence. The investigation was far from over, but the police seemed committed to uncovering the truth. As the day wore on, emotions ran high. The strain was visible on everyone’s faces. ‘We only want what’s best for Alex,’ Emma said again, her voice cracking. ‘Please believe us.’ The officers reassured her that their primary concern was Alex’s well-being. I could see that Emma was breaking down, her defenses crumbling. This was an emotional turning point, one that would hopefully lead to the truth finally coming out. I held the $1 bill tightly, the message on it still haunting me. Alex’s trembling hands and anxious eyes played repeatedly in my mind. I couldn’t ignore this plea for help, but I needed more information before acting. I decided to revisit Emma and Dave’s house, under the guise of spending more time with Alex. My goal was to find out what was truly happening behind closed doors. When I arrived at Emma’s house, I kept my demeanor light, masking my true intentions. ‘Thought I’d come by for some tea,’ I said, casually. Emma welcomed me, seemingly oblivious to my growing concerns. Alex appeared briefly, giving me a quick, nervous smile before disappearing into his room. I knew this was my chance to gather more information discreetly. I had to be cautious, careful not to raise suspicions. While sipping tea with Emma, I kept my ears open for any telling conversations between her and Dave. They spoke in hushed tones, their words often punctuated by worried glances toward Alex’s room. ‘Did you talk to him about it?’ I heard Emma ask Dave quietly. ‘Not yet,’ he replied, sounding tense. This confirmed my suspicions that something significant was indeed troubling the family. I needed to know what ‘it’ referred to. Taking a chance, I excused myself and made my way towards Alex’s room. I found him sitting on his bed, staring blankly at the wall. ‘Hey, sweetheart,’ I started softly. His eyes met mine, filling with unshed tears. ‘Granma, I’m scared,’ he admitted, his voice breaking. My heart ached hearing this, but I remained calm. ‘Tell me what’s going on, Alex,’ I urged gently, hoping to gain some clarity. Alex hesitated, tears rolling down his cheeks. ‘Mom and Dad argue all the time, and… sometimes, it gets really bad,’ he confessed. His words filled me with a sense of urgency and dread. ‘Have they hurt you?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Alex shook his head but then added, ‘They just get so mad at each other. I don’t know what to do.’ I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. Determined to find more clues, I gently coaxed Alex into drawing or writing about his feelings. Handing him a notepad, I said, ‘Sometimes it helps to write things down.’ He scribbled for a few minutes before handing me the pad. The drawings and words hinted at fear and confusion, confirming the escalating tension in the household. As I reviewed his notes, it was clear that the situation was more serious than I first thought. Alex’s drawings made my decision clear—I needed to act immediately. I hugged him tightly, trying to offer some comfort. ‘Stay strong, Alex. I’m here for you,’ I whispered. As I left his room, I resolved to contact the authorities without further delay. There was no more time to waste, and every moment counted. I gathered my things, preparing to make the toughest call of my life. That evening, I reached out to Margie again, this time revealing more about the situation. ‘Margie, I’m going to call the police,’ I confided, my voice shaking. Margie’s response was supportive. ‘You’re doing the right thing, Eleanor. Alex needs you.’ Her words gave me the strength I needed. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the police number, knowing this call would change everything for Alex—and for our family. When the operator picked up, I explained Alex’s note, his behavior, and what I had found. ‘Please send help immediately,’ I pleaded. The operator assured me that officers were on their way. Hanging up, I felt a mix of fear and relief. Now, all I could do was wait. I prayed that I had done the right thing, that I’d finally be able to bring peace and safety to my grandson. The minutes felt like hours as I waited for the police to arrive. My thoughts were a whirlwind of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Then, piercing through the silence, the sound of sirens approached. The police had arrived. I greeted them at the door, explaining everything again. ‘We’ll handle it from here, ma’am,’ the lead officer assured me. I nodded, hoping that this would be the first step toward ensuring Alex’s safety. The police arrived at Emma’s house with a sense of urgency. Two officers knocked on the door, and Emma opened it, looking bewildered. ‘Good evening, ma’am. We need to speak with you and Mr. Thompson about a concerning report we received,’ they said. Emma’s face turned pale as they entered, casting wary glances around the house. Dave appeared from the living room, his expression hardening as he saw the officers. The officers began their questioning, starting with Emma and Dave. ‘Can you tell us about any recent conflicts in your household?’ one of the officers asked, flipping open his notepad. Dave crossed his arms, his face tense. ‘We’ve had some arguments, sure, but nothing serious,’ he said gruffly. Emma seemed more pliable. ‘We’ve been under a lot of stress lately,’ she admitted, her voice shaky. I watched from the side, my heart racing. ‘Is Alex here?’ the second officer inquired, looking around. Emma nodded reluctantly. ‘He’s in his room,’ she said softly. The officer walked over to Alex’s room and gently knocked on the door. ‘Alex, can we talk with you for a moment?’ The door creaked open, and Alex stood there, eyes wide with fear. He glanced at me for reassurance, and I nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile. ‘It’s okay, Alex,’ I said softly. The officers knelt down to Alex’s level. ‘Can you tell us what’s been happening at home, Alex?’ one asked kindly. Alex fidgeted, eyes darting to Emma and Dave, who stood in the hallway watching. ‘They fight a lot,’ he said in a small voice. ‘And sometimes I get scared.’ The officer nodded, taking notes. ‘Thank you for telling us, Alex. You’ve been very brave,’ the officer said, giving him a reassuring smile. With Alex’s admission, the officers turned back to Emma and Dave. ‘We need to verify Alex’s safety,’ one officer stated, his tone serious. Emma started to cry, her face crumpling with emotion. ‘We’ve never hurt him,’ she protested. Dave’s expression remained hardened, but he didn’t argue. The officers continued their questioning, trying to piece together a clearer picture of the home environment. Tension filled the room, hanging like a thick fog. After intense questioning, the officers decided on a temporary measure to ensure Alex’s safety. ‘For now, we’re going to place Alex in your care, Ms. Thompson,’ one officer told me. Relief and concern washed over me simultaneously. ‘Thank you,’ I responded, hugging Alex tightly. Emma sobbed harder, and Dave looked stunned, but neither objected. The officers gave me further instructions and said they would follow up soon. I felt a huge responsibility. I gathered Alex’s few belongings quickly. As we left, Emma hugged Alex tightly, whispering, ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart.’ Dave stood silently, his hands in his pockets. ‘Take good care of him, Mom,’ Emma said tearfully as Alex and I walked out the door. The ride home was silent, heavy with emotion. ‘We’ll get through this together,’ I assured Alex, squeezing his hand. ‘You’re safe now.’ He nodded, leaning his head against the car window. Arriving home, I tried to create a sense of normalcy for Alex. ‘How about we make some hot chocolate?’ I suggested, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Okay,’ he replied, managing a small smile. As we sipped our hot chocolate at the kitchen table, I saw some of the tension leaving Alex’s face. ‘Thank you, Granma,’ he said quietly. ‘Anytime, sweetie,’ I replied, giving him a reassuring smile. For tonight, he was safe and loved. That night, neither Alex nor I slept much. He stayed close to me, afraid to be alone. ‘Can I sleep in your room tonight, Granma?’ he asked softly. ‘Of course, dear,’ I replied, setting up a makeshift bed beside mine. As he finally drifted off to sleep, I lay awake, my mind racing with the implications of what had happened earlier. I knew this was just the beginning of a long road ahead. The next morning, I decided it was time to seek further help. ‘We need to talk to someone who can guide us through this, Alex,’ I said over breakfast. He nodded, his eyes still clouded with worry. I made a few calls and set up an appointment with a child psychologist recommended by Margie. ‘We’ll get through this together,’ I promised him, reaching across the table to hold his hand. He squeezed it back, trust in his eyes. We arrived at the child psychologist’s office the next day. Dr. Warren greeted us warmly, her calm presence immediately putting Alex slightly at ease. ‘Hello, Alex. Would you like to come in and talk?’ she said gently. Alex looked at me, and I gave him an encouraging nod. During the session, I waited in the lobby, nerves on edge. I hoped this would be a positive step toward understanding what Alex was going through. As Alex’s session with Dr. Warren progressed, I could see snippets of their interaction through the door window. Alex seemed to be opening up, slowly but surely. After about an hour, Dr. Warren invited me into her office. ‘Alex has shared some concerning details,’ she began carefully. ‘He’s been deeply affected by the arguments and tension at home.’ My heart tightened at her words, but hearing it was a crucial step in our journey. Dr. Warren offered some recommendations to help Alex feel safer and more supported. ‘He should continue with regular counseling sessions,’ she explained. ‘And we need to discuss a more stable living environment for him temporarily.’ I nodded, fully agreeing with her assessment. As we left the office, I could see a small glimmer of hope in Alex’s eyes. ‘We’re taking the right steps, sweetheart,’ I assured him on our drive home. Back at home, I reached out to Emma to discuss the next steps. ‘Alex will be staying with me for a while,’ I informed her. She sounded distraught but agreed that it was the best course of action. ‘Please take good care of him, Mom,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Of course, dear,’ I replied. I knew this was tearing her apart, but our priority had to be Alex’s well-being. He deserved to feel safe. In the days that followed, we tried to establish a new routine. Alex continued his schoolwork and attended regular sessions with Dr. Warren. ‘How was school today?’ I asked him one afternoon. ‘It was okay,’ he replied, a neutral expression on his face. While he wasn’t as lively as he used to be, the weight he carried seemed lighter. Slowly but surely, we were starting to find a new sense of normal. One evening, there was a knock on the door. Opening it, I was surprised to see Dave standing there, looking solemn. ‘Can I talk to Alex?’ he asked hesitantly. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of the best course of action. Alex appeared behind me, having heard his father’s voice. ‘Hi, Dad,’ he said softly. I stood by, ready to intervene if necessary, as Dave took a deep breath and began to speak. Dave knelt down to Alex’s level, his eyes filled with unspoken sorrow. ‘I’m so sorry for everything, buddy,’ he said, his voice trembling. Alex shifted uncomfortably but didn’t pull away. ‘Things will get better, I promise,’ Dave vowed, tears in his eyes. It was a tense but poignant moment, as both tried to navigate their complex emotions. I hoped this would be the first step toward healing their fractured relationship. After Dave left, Alex and I sat down to talk. ‘How do you feel?’ I asked, gently probing. He shrugged, looking at the floor. ‘I just want things to be normal again,’ he finally said, his voice a whisper. ‘I know, sweetheart,’ I replied, pulling him into a hug. ‘But we’re working toward that.’ His honesty about his feelings was a positive sign, showing that he was beginning to trust the process. Over time, the regular counseling sessions and open conversations started to show results. Alex began to smile more often and seemed less weighed down by his worries. ‘Can we visit Mom?’ he asked one Saturday. I agreed, believing it could be beneficial for him. As we drove over to Emma’s house, I felt a mix of hope and anxiety, praying that this visit would be another positive step in Alex’s healing journey. Emma greeted us with open arms, tears of relief streaming down her face. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Alex,’ she said, hugging him tightly. Seeing them together, I felt a glimmer of optimism. ‘We’re all going to work through this,’ I said, joining their embrace. It was a small but significant moment of reconnection. We still had a long road ahead, but today felt like a hopeful step toward a better future for Alex.