My mother kept telling me to calm down, but it was impossible. Every second felt long and heavy. I kept replaying the accident in my head, wishing I could erase it. After a while, a nurse came out and asked for the person who brought the boy. I stepped forward immediately. That’s me, I said. She nodded. He needs treatment right away. He has internal injuries.
We need to begin some procedures and scans. Please go to the billing office. My stomach tightened. I followed her directions and walked to the counter. The man behind the desk was typing something on a computer. He asked for the boy’s details and I gave everything I knew. He entered the information and turned the screen toward me. This is the amount needed for the initial treatment, he said.
When I saw the number on the screen, my heart dropped. I didn’t speak. I didn’t blink. I just stared at the figure. It was the exact amount I had saved for 3 years. Money I kept aside for my modeling dream. Money I planned to use for my first photooot session, portfolio, and registration. I had been saving little by little, making sacrifices, skipping things I wanted, and putting everything into that box hidden in my room.
Three years of patience, 3 years of hope, 3 years of telling myself that one day my life would change. Now the hospital was asking for that exact amount. My hands grew cold. My throat tightened. I stepped away from the counter and leaned against the wall. I felt torn in two different directions. Part of me saw the future I had worked for slipping away. Another part saw David lying on the stretcher struggling to breathe.
I closed my eyes. I tried to think clearly, but my emotions were everywhere. I remembered the morning he showed up shily at my shop for the first time. I remembered how he helped me even when I told him not to. I remembered following him and seeing where he lived. I remembered the accident and how he tried to open his eyes.
He had nobody, no father, no mother, no relatives. If I walked away now, he would not survive the night. My dream suddenly felt small compared to his life. I walked back to the counter slowly. My voice was quiet. “Please give me a few minutes,” I said. I rushed home with my mother behind me.
I went straight to my room and pulled out the wooden savings box from my drawer. The small box looked heavier than ever. I held it in both hands, and tears gathered in my eyes. I remembered every sacrifice that went into it. I remembered the nights I slept late, calculating how much more I needed. I remembered how I promised myself I would make it one day, but I also remembered David’s face.
My mother touched my shoulder gently. “Do what your heart tells you,” she said. I didn’t need to think any further. I sat on the floor, took a small hammer, and broke the box. The money scattered across the tiles. I gathered everything into a bag, wiping my tears as I worked. My hands moved fast, but my heart felt heavy.
When we returned to the hospital, I placed the money on the counter. The man counted it and nodded. “We will begin treatment immediately,” he said. I walked back to the hallway, feeling empty and relieved at the same time. My mother squeezed my hand. “You did the right thing,” she whispered. I sat down quietly and stared at the wall. My dream was gone.
Just like that, the years of saving, all gone. But surprisingly, I didn’t regret it. Not even for a moment. Because if that money could save David’s life, then it had found a better purpose. I leaned back and closed my eyes, exhausted. I didn’t know what would happen next, but I knew one thing for sure. I would rather lose my dream than lose him.
And even though it hurt, I was at peace with my decision. The next morning, I arrived at the hospital early. I barely slept during the night. My whole body felt tired, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to see David awake and breathing on his own. When I entered the room, he was still lying there, eyes closed with small tubes attached to him.
The sight made my chest tighten. I pulled a chair closer and sat beside him. I took his hand gently. It felt warm and that gave me a little comfort. I stayed there quietly for a while just watching him. I thought about everything that had happened. The accident, the operation, the money, the fear, the prayers. It was a lot.
But I didn’t regret any decision I made. After some time, I bowed my head and started praying again. My voice was low and the room felt calm. God, please heal him, I said. Please give him strength. Please let him wake up. He has been through enough. Help him recover. I kept talking to God from my heart. As I prayed, I didn’t expect anything to happen immediately.
I only wanted God to hear me. Then I heard a small voice say. I lifted my head quickly and looked at David. His eyes were half open and he was looking at me weakly. For a moment, I froze. Then I jumped up from the chair. David, you’re awake. I said. I ran out of the room and called for the doctor. Please come. He’s awake.
The doctor followed me back inside and checked him carefully. He asked David some simple questions and David responded slowly but clearly. The doctor nodded and said he was stable enough to continue recovering. When the doctor left, I sat beside David again. My eyes were wet, but I tried to keep myself calm. I held his hand gently.
David, I said, “You scared me.” He looked at me and gave a small smile. Thank you, Auntie. You’re safe now, I replied. You’re going to be fine. After a week in the hospital, David was finally getting better. The doctor walked in for his morning rounds, checked his vitals, listened to his breathing, then smiled.
“You’re a strong boy,” he said gently before turning to me. “Well observe him for two more nights. If everything stays stable, he should be ready for discharge. Relief wash through me. Thank you, doctor,” I said, smiling gratefully. I turned to David, happy and excited for him, but he didn’t look happy. He just nodded quietly, his eyes dropping to his hands.
After some time, the room became quiet again. David looked at me with a serious expression. I knew it was the right moment. “David,” I began, “I know you don’t have any parents.” He stared at me, confused. “How did you know?” I took a deep breath. I followed you that day when you closed the shop and walked away. I followed you secretly.
I saw where you were living. His eyes widened. He looked embarrassed and sad at the same time. He lowered his head and I could see he didn’t know what to say. “You don’t need to hide from me,” I continued gently. “You’re a child. You shouldn’t be living alone like that. It’s not safe and it’s not right.” He didn’t respond, but he squeezed my hand slightly.
“I’m not angry,” I said. “I just want you to be safe.” He looked up again slowly. “Where will I go now?” he asked. “You will stay with me and my mother,” I said with no hesitation. “You don’t have to worry anymore. You won’t go back to that place. You’re coming home with us.” His face changed instantly. The sadness disappeared.
His eyes brightened in a way I had never seen before. Before I could say anything else, he opened his arms and hugged me tightly. “Auntie, thank you,” he said. “Thank you so much.” I hugged him back. I didn’t hold back my tears this time. I wanted him to know he was not alone anymore. He had someone now. He had a home. He had a family.
After he let go, he laid back on the bed, still smiling. I stayed with him for the rest of the day. I brought him food, helped the nurses when needed, and made sure he felt safe. My mother visited in the evening and talked to him, too. She treated him like he was already part of our family. I could see the relief on David’s face.
That night, as I left the hospital, I felt something different inside me. It wasn’t worry. It wasn’t fear. It was peace. David was alive. He was recovering. And from now on, he would never be alone again. He had a home waiting for him, and I was ready to protect him with everything I had. The day David finally moved into our house felt like the beginning of something new, something peaceful.
My mother opened the door with a wide smile. She pulled him into a gentle hug and said, “Welcome home, my son.” David froze for a moment as if the words were too heavy to believe. Then he smiled shily and whispered, “Thank you, ma.” The moment he stepped inside, he walked like he was entering a palace. He kept touching the walls lightly, observing the chairs, the curtains, the framed photos, everything.
