Two weeks later, at exactly 9:30 p.m., she sat by the door. I followed her back to Harlow’s. As usual, she waited outside. Then I spotted something on the bulletin board: a photo of a woman with a dog—Hope. Beneath it read: In Loving Memory of Maria Ellison, 1974–2021. “She always believed in second chances.”

Hope hadn’t been lost. She had been returning each week, honoring a silent promise to someone she loved. That night, I gave her more than a home. I gave her a new mission and found one of my own. Now, we volunteer together, helping others heal. Hope stopped waiting and so did I.