Mom studied me. “You look pale. Everything okay?”

After dinner, I read them a story and tucked them in. But the wallet wouldn’t leave my mind.

The money.

The old man.

The choice.

Finally, I went to the living room.

“I need to run out for a bit. Can you stay with the kids?”

Mom looked surprised but nodded. “Be careful.”

I grabbed the wallet from the garage and drove to the address.

It led to a small house at the edge of town. The porch light was on. The TV flickered inside.

I sat in my truck for a minute.

What if he accused me of stealing it? What if he called the police?

I shook off the thought and walked to the door.

Knocked twice.

After a pause, I heard slow footsteps.

The door opened.

An elderly man stood there, leaning heavily on a cane. He looked exactly like the photo.

“Can I help you?”

I held up the wallet. “I believe this belongs to you. I found it at my shop.”

His eyes widened.

With shaking hands, he took it.

“I thought it was gone,” he murmured.

He opened it, checked the contents, and let out a breath of relief.

“I’ve been searching everywhere. This is my pension money.”

“I’m glad I could return it,” I said.

He pulled out a crisp $100 bill and extended it toward me.

“Please. Take this.”

I shook my head. “Thank you, but I can’t. I didn’t bring it back for a reward.”

“Then why?” he asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

He studied me carefully. Then he smiled.

“What’s your name?”

“Evan.”

“Well, Evan, men like you are rare. Come in — at least let me make you tea.”

“I appreciate that, but I need to get home. My mom’s watching my kids.”

“You have children?”

“Three. Six-year-old triplets.”

He chuckled softly. “That must be lively.”

“You have no idea.”

“And their mother?”

“It’s just me and my mom.”

He nodded like he understood more than I said.

“You’re doing something important, Evan. Raising good children. That matters.”

“I hope so. I’m trying.”

“Where do you live?”