My husband and I were vacationing in France when we wandered into a perfume shop. A few minutes later, he realized he’d forgotten his wallet at the hotel. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and hurried out.
Half an hour passed. Then forty minutes. By the one-hour mark, my heart was pounding. His phone went straight to voicemail, and every scenario flashed through my mind. The scents of jasmine and vanilla felt suffocating.
A security guard approached gently. “Madame, are you all right?”
I explained that my husband had stepped out and never returned. He reassured me that tourists often misjudge distances in the old town, but the worry sat heavy in my chest. The manager brought me water and offered to send security to search if needed. Their kindness grounded me, even as fear built.
Just as I was about to ask the guard for help, my husband appeared in the doorway—out of breath, apologizing, smiling sheepishly. He explained he’d taken a wrong turn, his phone had died, and he’d spent nearly an hour trying to navigate the winding streets. Local shopkeepers had helped him find his way back.
Relief washed over me. The security guard chuckled, saying travel mishaps often become the best stories.
We left the shop hand in hand—closer, grateful, and strangely comforted. What began as an hour of panic became a reminder of how easily fear can turn to gratitude… and how even in unfamiliar places, kindness finds you.
