The rain soaked Mateo’s jacket as he held his wife Rosa’s hand, their two children huddled close between them. Outside the immigration office, a crowd of protesters shouted into the night, their signs bobbing like storm-tossed buoys: “Families Belong Together.” “No Human is Illegal.”

Behind the glass doors, Councilwoman Evelyn Grant stood watching. She didn’t belong here, not tonight, but something had pulled her from her townhouse and into the chaos. Perhaps it was the image of the Díaz family on her desk—the photo clipped to their immigration file, now stamped with the red letters FINAL ORDER.

Her aide had warned her. “Stay out of it. You’re running for re-election. You can’t take this fight.”

But here she was, drenched in guilt and indecision.

Evelyn recognized Mateo immediately, his weathered face exactly as it looked in the photo. He met her gaze through the glass, his eyes filled with something that made her chest tighten: not anger, not fear. Hope.

She pushed open the door, the cold air and noise hitting her like a wave.

"Councilwoman Grant," Mateo said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "You said you’d help us. Do you still mean it?"

She hesitated. A camera flashed nearby—press lurking at the edges, waiting for a story. Her campaign team’s words echoed in her head: “Stay neutral. Don’t alienate the base.”

But then Rosa stepped forward, her voice breaking. "Please, ma’am. Our kids... they’ve never known another home. If we go back, there’s nothing for us there."

Evelyn glanced at the children. The boy clutched a battered stuffed bear. The girl, no older than six, stared up at her with wide, unblinking eyes.

"You’re asking me to risk everything," Evelyn said quietly, more to herself than them.

"No," Mateo said. "We’re asking you to do the right thing."

The words struck like a thunderclap. Evelyn turned to the protesters, then to the building where bureaucrats were making decisions that would uproot lives with a flick of a pen.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and called the director of immigration services.

"This is Councilwoman Evelyn Grant," she said, her voice sharp and clear. "I’m invoking an emergency stay on the Díaz deportation order. Effective immediately."

She hung up before he could argue, then turned to Mateo. "It’s temporary. It’ll buy you time, but you’ll need a lawyer to fight the case in court."

Rosa began to cry. Mateo whispered, "Thank you."

As Evelyn walked away, she knew she’d just drawn a line in the sand. The headlines tomorrow would crucify her, and the polls might plummet.

But for the first time in years, Evelyn Grant felt like a politician worth believing in.