One autumn morning, as I was on my way to the bakery to pick up fresh rolls for my mother, I found a broken phone lying on the sidewalk. It was an old model with a shattered screen and a dented casing, a phone that looked like it had been discarded in a hurry. Curiosity got the best of me, and I pocketed the phone, planning to examine it late,

After breakfast with my mother, I took the SIM card out of the damaged phone and inserted it into my backup phone, hoping to see if it still worked. To my surprise, a list of contacts appeared, mostly hospitals, schools, and emergency services, with one contact marked as a favorite: “Daughter.” My curiosity deepened, and I decided to call the number. A small, anxious voice answered, “Mom?!” It was a young girl named Julie, who explained that her mother had gone to the store the day before and never returned. She was alone in her apartment, unable to move due to her wheelchair, and scared.