Alex thought about it for a long time.
“I don’t know, son. But I know this: we’re going to come back to that square every year on this day. We’ll bring flowers to that bench. It’ll be our way of saying thank you.”
“What if she comes back?” Ethan asked hopefully.
“Then I’ll tell her everything I should have said that day,” Alex promised.
When they got home, Sarah was waiting for them, looking confused.
“Where have you two been? I was worried.”
Alex hugged his wife and said quietly, “We went to the ridge. We were looking for the girl who saved Ethan.”
“And? Did you find her?” she asked skeptically.
“No. But we found something more important.”
“What’s that?”
Alex looked her in the eye. “The understanding that logic doesn’t explain everything. And that sometimes, you just have to be grateful for the things you can’t explain.”
Sarah started to argue, but seeing the look on his face, she stopped. Something had changed in her husband. He was softer, calmer. Even she could see it.
Six months passed. Ethan’s vision remained perfect. The doctors called it a medical phenomenon. But the boy had changed in other ways, too. He started noticing things others missed: the loneliness in a classmate’s eyes, the sadness of a teacher, the exhaustion on his father’s face.
He attended a private school where the kids were wealthy and focused on the latest gadgets. But Ethan didn’t feel like he fit in anymore. Every time they drove past a public school or saw kids playing in a park, he thought of Katie—the barefoot girl who was richer than anyone he knew.
One day, on the way home from school, he asked the driver to stop near a small park. A boy about his age was sitting on a bench, sketching in an old notebook.
Ethan walked over to him. “Hi. What are you drawing?”
The boy flinched and covered the notebook, expecting a joke at his expense. But seeing Ethan’s kind expression, he answered tentatively, “Birds. I like watching them.”
“Can I see?”
The boy showed him. The drawings were simple but beautiful.
“These are great,” Ethan said. “I’m Ethan.”
“Max,” the boy replied, a small smile appearing.
From then on, Ethan stopped at that park often. He and Max talked about birds, art, and life. Ethan brought him high-quality pencils and sketchbooks, and Max taught him to see the beauty in small things: the flight of a sparrow, the pattern of bark on a tree. Every time Ethan did something kind, he thought of Katie—the girl who reached out to him when he was blind and alone.
Alex never stopped looking for Katie. He hired investigators, put out notices, and contacted social services. But she had vanished.
Then one day, while Alex was in his office, his assistant buzzed him. “There’s a woman here to see you. She says it’s about a girl named Katie.”
Alex stood up so fast he knocked over his chair. “Send her in immediately.”
A woman in her fifties entered. She looked tired but kind.
“Hello. I’m Mrs. Miller, a caseworker from the state foster system.”
She sat down. “I heard about your foundation. ‘The Katie Foundation,’ right? You knew a girl by that name?”
Comments are closed.