The thrift store was nearly empty that freezing afternoon, and the twenty-dollar winter coat in my hands felt heavier than its price. Beside me, our seven-year-old son Liam shuffled in his thin hoodie, his injured leg dragging slightly with every step. Winter was closing in, and the thought of him facing the cold without a proper coat broke my heart. But my husband, Mark, refused to buy it. His answer was firm and cold, and on the drive home I burned with anger, convinced something in him had changed.
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