In the sky, the clouds cried, unleashing drops of tears.
A young boy, who seemed to be a school student around 7 years old with a backpack stuffed with books, was running home. As he jogged through the streets, he saw a dark alley in which a man covered in mud was lying in the trash, seemingly tired and sad.
The boy stopped as he saw the man, and a second later, rushed toward him in worry, covering his own face with his arm.
Seeing the boy, the man showed a depressed, frightened, and cold look, making the boy even more worried.
"Hello, mister... are you hurt? Did something happen to you?" said the boy, looking at the man.
The man slowly lifted his head and said,
"Can you please let me stay at your house for a while, if possible, until the rain stops?"
The man's response brought hesitation to the boy. He knew letting a stranger in could be dangerous. But as he thought of the man staying there in such weather, he changed his mind and guided the man to his home to help.
At the house, the man sat down on the couch. There was no one except the man and the boy, as the boy's family was busy with work and study. The boy rushed to give him a glass of hot water and a towel to clean off the mud.
The man accepted everything with gratitude. After using the towel, his facial features became clear. He looked like a 30-year-old average man with a decent life.
"Hey, kiddo," he said as he thanked the boy for everything.
Coming closer, the boy took the towel and rushed back to the bathroom on the second floor, where he put it in the washing machine to clean it.
Soon after, he heard the sound of things being taken and someone running.
The boy's face went pale as he realized what had happened. He ran to the couch where the man had been sitting.
What he saw plunged him into complete despair and shock.
The man was gone—and so were the money, jewelry, and electronics.
All of it had happened in such a short time that the boy was left staring at the couch, frozen.
He thought about how he had answered silly questions—the ones the man had asked while smiling and telling stories. He had answered honestly… even told him where the money and valuable things were.
The boy had been betrayed. He felt the sting of it deep inside.
He ran back through the streets, searching desperately for the man.
Eventually, a policeman caught him and listened as he explained everything, begging for help.
By the time night fell, his family had returned—only to be greeted by the police…
and their son standing quietly beside them, staring at the floor.
Seeing this, his family's faces went pale as they flooded the policeman with questions.
The officer raised his hands calmly, trying to ease their panic. Slowly, he explained everything that had happened.
The boy's father, mother, and older brother stood speechless for a moment—then turned to him with fury.
They shouted. Scolded. Cut him off before he could say a single word.
It wasn't just anger. It was fear and frustration. Their family was already buried in debt, barely keeping their heads above despair. There was no room for mistakes. No space for softness.
From that day on, his father turned cold toward him—distant, almost like he wasn't there.
His mother scolded him constantly, sometimes hitting him when she couldn't hold in her rage.
But it was his older brother that hurt the most.
The boy never expected cruelty from him.
Every time they crossed paths, his brother would lash out—blaming him for everything.
"Because of you," he'd say, "I had to throw away my dream of going to university."
"Because of you, I have to work from morning to night now just to keep this family alive."
There were no more gentle moments. No more warmth.
The kindness and hope that once lived in the boy's heart began to sink.
And it never floated back up again.
As he grew older, that part of him stayed at the bottom—buried under silence, shame, and rain.