You know, theres this story about a child nobody could get to speak until she came along.
Catalinas mum had been poorly for ages. Every day was a strugglebut even on the hardest ones, she found the strength to cheer her daughter on. That morning, propped up on her pillows, she smiled weakly, her hands trembling as she pointed to her daughters face and whispered,
“Love, Ive always wished youd find a job. You can do it, I know you can.”
Catalina sighed, staring out the window.
“Mum, I saw an adverttheyre looking for a cleaner in this massive manor house. Maybe Ill give it a go?”
Her mum nodded, hope flickering in her eyes.
“Give it a shot, sweetheart. Maybe thisll turn things around for us.”
And those words stuck with Catalina. So she gathered her things and headed to the manorthis grand old place with white pillars and huge windows. Her heart raced as she stepped inside. The owner, a bloke named Matthew, gave her a once-over, asked a few simple questions, andjust like thathired her.
Catalina could hardly believe it. “Mum was right,” she thought. “This is a sign.”
On her first day, while dusting the second floor, she heard a faint rustling from one of the rooms. She cracked the door openand froze.
Inside the wardrobe stood a little boy. No older than seven or eight. His big eyes were wide with wariness, his lips sealed shut.
“Hello there, sweetheart. Whats your name?” she asked softly.
No answer. Just a shaky breath and those watchful eyes.
Catalina didnt know what to make of it. Later, she found Matthew sitting at the kitchen table.
“Erm excuse me,” she started hesitantly, “but whys your son hiding in the wardrobe?”
Matthew looked up. His voice went quiet, distant.
“Dont mind him. Thats just how he is. Hasnt spoken a word in three years. Just stands there. Only comes out for the loo.”
Her chest tightened.
“Three years? But why?”
“After the accident,” he murmured. “We lost his mum. He shut down after that. Doctors, therapists, psychiatristsno one could get through to him.”
Catalina looked down, something aching inside her. “I have to help him,” she thought.
From then on, every day, shed pop into his room and chat. Never expecting a replyjust talking.
“Morning, sunshine! Its a lovely day out.”
“You know, lifes still beautiful, even when its tough.”
“Youve got the kindest eyes Ive ever seen.”
She told him about flowers, about her mum, about her childhood. And the boy? He just stood there, listening. Until one day, when she said hello, he stepped out of the wardrobe. Slowly. Unsurely. And handed her a hairbrush.
“Want me to brush your hair?” she asked, and when he gave the tiniest nod, she smiled through her tears.
That became their little ritual. Every morning, hed sit on the stool while Catalina brushed his hair, humming the lullaby her mum used to sing.
One day, Matthew paused outside the door. He heard soft voices inside. Peeking in, he nearly dropped his coffeehis son was sitting in front of the mirror, letting Catalina touch his hair, and there was the faintest smile on his face.
“How?” Matthew whispered. “She did what no doctor could.”
The next morning at breakfast, the impossible happened.
His son, still in pyjamas, barefoot, wandered into the kitchen. Stopped. Looked at him.
“Morning, Dad,” he said.
Silence. Thena shout of joy that nearly shook the walls. Matthew dropped to his knees and hugged him tight.
“Bloody hell you spoke!” he choked out, tears streaming.
Catalina stood in the doorway, her face glowing with a quiet, grateful smile.
Matthew got up, walked over, and said,
“Catalina, thank you. You did the impossible. Ever since my wife passed, hes been living in silence in the dark. And you brought his voice back. You brought my son back.”
He paused, then added,
“I want to repay you. Ask for anything.”
She looked down.
“Theres just one thing. My mum shes really ill. She needs treatment we cant afford.”
“Consider it done,” Matthew said firmly.
That same day, Catalinas mum was checked into the best hospital in the country. The doctors worked miracles. A month later, she was standing by the window, squeezing her daughters hand with a smile.
“You didnt just change our lives, love,” she said. “You changed someone elses too.”
Catalina grinned.
“No, Mum. I just told that little boy what you always told mekeep going, even when its hard.”
Weeks passed. The boy ran through the garden now, laughing, playing. And sometimes Matthew just stood there, watching themhis son and Catalinathinking how, for the first time in years, the house felt alive again.
Because sometimes, to break the silence, you dont need medicine. Just a heart that knows how to listen.
