Man Refuses to Give Up Seat for Pregnant Woman on Subway……See the continuation in the first comment 👇👇

I was on the subway today, and something happened that really made me think. A pregnant lady got on, looking incredibly tired, as if she had been on her feet all day. She obviously needed a seat, but the train was crowded. She noticed a young guy sitting down, completely absorbed in his phone. She approached him and asked, ‘Excuse me, could I sit down? I’m really tired.’
The young man gave her a brief glance and replied dismissively, ‘Sorry, I got here first.’

At that moment, an elderly man with a cane slowly stood up and said to the woman, ‘Dear, please take my seat. You need it more than I do.’ She thanked him and sat down, looking visibly relieved. The old man then turned to the young guy and said in a clear, firm voice, ‘Are you a man, son?’ The younger man looked up, slightly confused, and responded, ‘Yeah.’ The old man retorted, ‘I don’t think so. Just having something between your legs doesn’t make you a man. A real man helps those in need and offers strength and support to those who require it. And as we can all see, you’re not showing us that today.’ The young guy’s face turned red. He didn’t say anything but seemed to think deeply about it. The subway journey continued, and everyone in the carriage seemed to be silently reflecting on the old man’s words.

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I FOUND THE BLANKET I KNITTED FOR MY LATE DAUGHTER AT MY MIL’S GARAGE SALE. Five years ago, when I finally got pregnant with my first child, we decided to name her Daisy. I spent months knitting a pink blanket adorned with white daisies. The day Daisy was born, I held her in my arms, wrapped her in the blanket, and we took our first and LAST photo together because hours later, the doctor told me she died. I screamed, cried, and begged to see her, but my husband, Aaron, and my MIL, Margaret, insisted it was best to remember her as she was. They told me they arranged the funeral, but I was too weak to attend. I spiraled into a deep depression in the following years. Fast forward to a few weeks ago, Margaret held a garage sale. While browsing, I froze. There it was: Daisy’s blanket. Every stitch, every detail was the same. Shaking, I confronted Margaret. “Why is this here? This was buried with Daisy!” She looked ghost-pale, but before she could respond, Aaron walked in. I held up the blanket. “You told me she was buried in this! What’s going on?” Aaron’s face crumbled. Through tears, he finally confessed, “Everything you know about Daisy is a lie. She NEVER DIED. I can’t keep this secret anymore. Dear, it’s time you know the truth.” ⬇(continues in first comment)

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