I walked into the bakery with an empty stomach and a heavy heart. She was only eight years old and couldnt remember the last time shed eaten something warm.
“Miss could I have a bit of bread, even if its stale?” she asked, her voice shaking.
The woman looked me up and down and pointed to the door.
“Get out of here, you little beggar! Go find work like the rest of us!” she snapped, wiping down the counter.
A lump formed in my throat as I started to back away, but a firm voice cut through the tension.
“Oi, love!” An elderly man carrying his shopping stepped forward. “Cant you see shes just a child?”
“Well, let her parents take care of her, then,” the woman huffed, clearly annoyed.
I wanted to disappear, but the old man bent down and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Dont fret, lad. Come on, Ill get you something.”
That day, he took me home, gave me hot soup, a bed, and most importantlya place where I didnt feel like rubbish.
“I dont have any grandchildren,” he said with a kind smile. “Would you like to be mine?”
I bit my lip to hold back tears and nodded.
“Yes, Grandad.”
Years passed, and that old man became my family, my strength, and my reason to study. He made me promise that one day, Id help others the way he helped me.
Time flew, and years later, as a doctor, I was urgently called to the hospital. A woman was bleeding out in the operating theatre. When I walked in and saw her on the table, I frozeit was the baker.
As I worked, I remembered her shouting at me that day, but I also remembered Grandads warm hand pulling me off the streets. And then I understood.
Hours later, she woke up.
“You you saved my life?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.
I looked at her calmly.
“Yes, maam. And I did it because someone once believed I deserved a second chance.”
She burst into tears. I just smiled, knowing in that moment my grandad would be proud.
