They Forced Me And my Baby Granddaughter Out of the Cafe and Into the Rain, Then Justice Walked In

Inside, the air smelled of cinnamon and coffee. I exhaled, grateful. I found a table near the window, parked the stroller, and lifted Amy into my arms. Her cheeks were blotchy from crying. I rocked her gently.
“Shh, sweetheart,” I whispered. “We’re safe now.”

I reached into my bag for her bottle, hoping to calm her. But before I could unscrew the cap, I felt it—eyes on me.

At the next table, a woman wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, this isn’t a daycare,” she muttered, loud enough to sting.

Her companion leaned in, voice sharp. “Why don’t you take your crying baby outside? Some of us came here to relax.”

Their words sliced through the room. Patrons glanced up—some curious, some annoyed. I shrank into my seat. Outside? Into the storm? My chest tightened.

“I wasn’t trying to cause trouble,” I said softly. “I just needed somewhere dry to feed her.”

The woman scoffed. “Feed her in your car. Don’t ruin our afternoon.”

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