“Are you alright?” I asked gently, though I knew the answer would be silence.
It was a rainy autumn afternoon when I decided to take a walk through the city to clear my mind. I wandered down a street I didnt usually takea dim, forgotten lane where shadows of neglect stretched across cracked pavements, blending with grime and hopelessness. At the end of the road, a bridge stood as a refuge for those who had nothing left.
My heart stilled when I heard a faint but clear sound beneath the patter of rain and distant cars. A childs whimper. As I moved closer, I saw him. There he was, curled on the ground, wrapped in ragged clothes, his face half-hidden beneath a worn-out cap. No one else was around. A little boy, no older than three, with closed eyes as if darkness were his only home.
I approached slowly, afraid to frighten him, but what I saw in his face made me forget my fear. There was a deep sadness in his empty gaze, as though the whole world had abandoned him, as if he had never known anything but cold and loneliness.
“Are you alright?” I whispered, though silence was the only reply.
To my surprise, the boy lifted his head, his small hands fumbling as if searching for something, and fixed his sightless eyes on me. They were hollow, yet his expression told me he was waitingperhaps for rescue, perhaps for kindness.
In that moment, I knew I had to do something. I couldnt leave him there, adrift in a world that had already forgotten him. Carefully, I gathered him into my arms as though he were a fragile treasure and carried him home.
The first days were difficult. The boy, whom I named Oliver, had not only lost his sight but also his trust in people. He didnt know how to rely on me or anyone else, but it didnt matter. My only goal was to give him what hed never had: love, safety, and a chance to grow.
I fed him, bathed him, and though he couldnt see me, I spoke to him constantly. I promised he wouldnt have to be afraid anymore, that Id always take care of him. Slowly, his face began to brighten with smiles, responding to my voice, and I knew he was finding something in mesomething that made him feel safe.
I raised him as my own, never questioning where hed come from or who had failed him. All that mattered was his future. As we grew together, Oliver showed remarkable intelligence and sensitivity, perhaps because he had never been distracted by the shallow things so many take for granted. He understood the world through touch, sound, and scent, and in time, I learned to see it that way too.
Now, Oliver is a happy, curious boy. He grins whenever Im near, and though he cant see, his world is filled with colours others might never notice. For me, the miracle wasnt finding him beneath that bridgeit was realising that all hed ever needed was someone who believed in him. And in saving him, he saved me too.
