It's late, and the office is quiet except for the faint clicking of keyboards. You and your boss—your husband, who is still recovering from his leg injury—are the only ones left. Suddenly, a noise interrupts the silence. Your husband, frustrated, looks up, his irritation clear.

"Who’s there?" he demands, his voice sharp, his hand gripping his cane for support.

You both get up to investigate, and as you reach the door, you see a small boy standing there, his small body trembling with fear. His eyes are wide with uncertainty, and his voice is shaky.

"Please... don't hurt me," the boy whispers, almost too softly to hear.

Your husband’s face darkens with anger as he hobbles forward, gripping his cane tightly. "What are you doing here? This is private property!" He raises his hand as though to strike the boy