When a workaholic businessman receives devastating news about his health, he meets a young boy in the hospital who changes his outlook on life. Their bond grows through unexpected friendship and small acts of kindness, teaching him what truly matters—until a heartbreaking twist reshapes everything.
Andrew, 50, sat at his desk, shuffling through papers while juggling scheduling meetings with his partners.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He didn’t hear Michael, his assistant, enter the room. Michael stood there, waiting. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.
No response. Andrew kept working, his focus sharp. Michael tried again. “Mr. Smith.” Still no answer. He repeated his name three more times.
Finally, Andrew slammed his hands on the desk and snapped, “What?”
Michael didn’t flinch. “You asked me to tell you if your ex-wife called.”
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Andrew groaned and rubbed his temples. “How many times do I have to tell you? Ignore her calls. What now?”
Michael held a notepad. “She left a message. I should warn you—it’s a direct quote. Her words, not mine.” He read from the note. “‘You pompous jerk, I will never forgive you for wasting so many years of my life. If you don’t give me back my painting, I’ll smash your car.’ That’s the message.”
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Andrew’s face turned red. “We’ve been divorced for two years! Does she not have anything better to do?”
Michael looked at him, waiting for further instructions. “Should I respond to her?”
“No! And stop taking her calls,” Andrew said. Then he paused. “Actually, tell her I threw that painting in the trash!”
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Andrew grabbed a pen and hurled it toward the wall. Michael ducked slightly, gave a polite nod, and left the room.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He frowned, picking it up.
“Andrew Smith?” a voice asked.
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
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“This is the hospital. Your test results are ready. The doctor wants to see you.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew said, irritated. “I’m busy.”
“Sorry, sir. The doctor will explain in person.”
Andrew sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll come in.” He hung up, shaking his head.
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Andrew rarely allowed himself the luxury of a lunch break, but this time was different. The doctor’s office was quiet, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound.
Andrew sat stiffly in a chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest. When the door opened, the doctor stepped in, his face serious. Andrew frowned, sensing bad news.
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The doctor sat across from him and spoke in a steady, measured tone, using terms Andrew didn’t understand.
Then came the word—cancer. “We need to act fast,” the doctor said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Andrew asked, his voice sharp. “I own a company. I can’t just check into a hospital.”
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The doctor met his eyes. “Your health should come first. The company can wait.”
Andrew leaned forward. “What are my chances of getting better?”
“I can’t promise anything,” the doctor said. “Starting treatment right away is critical.”
Andrew’s voice rose. “Can I still work while I’m here?”
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“Treatment affects everyone differently,” the doctor explained. “You will stay in the hospital so we can monitor you. Someone can bring you a computer.”
Andrew frowned and stood up. “Fine. I’ll sort it out.”
The doctor watched him leave. “We’ll see you tomorrow with your things,” he said before Andrew reached the door.
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As Andrew walked through the hospital’s pediatric wing, he noticed a boy, about eight years old, tossing a ball back and forth with a nurse.
The sound of their laughter echoed in the corridor. The ball suddenly rolled across the floor and stopped near Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir!” the boy called out, smiling. “Can you please throw the ball back?”
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Andrew picked up the ball, his face tense. Without a word, he hurled it down the hall, far from the boy and nurse, then turned and walked away.
“That was mean, sir!” the boy shouted.
Andrew had been in the hospital for days that felt like weeks. He tried to keep working, setting up his laptop and pushing through meetings.
But the treatment was draining. Each session left him weaker. The nausea was constant, and sleep was nearly impossible.
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One afternoon, during another long chemotherapy session, Andrew leaned back, his eyes half-closed. He felt miserable.
Suddenly, a small voice broke through his fog. He opened his eyes to see a boy standing in front of him. Startled, Andrew flinched. The boy giggled. It was the same boy from the corridor.
“What do you want, kid?” Andrew mumbled, not even lifting his head.
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“I’ve been walking around the hospital looking for someone to play with. It’s boring here.”
Andrew glanced at him, annoyed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tommy,” the boy replied with a wide grin.
Andrew sighed. “Listen, Tommy. I’m not in the mood to play. Go bother someone else before I start feeling worse.”
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Tommy didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small peppermint candy. He held it out to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated, then snatched the candy and set it on the table.
“You’re really grumpy!” Tommy said, laughing. “I’m going to call you Mr. Grouch. Are you mad because you’re scared of needles?” He pointed at the IV attached to Andrew’s arm.
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Andrew frowned. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s fine. I was scared at first too, but then I stopped. My mom says I’m a superhero. Do you have a superpower?”
“No,” Andrew said, his voice flat.
“That’s because you’re too sad,” Tommy replied, his tone serious now.
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Andrew looked at the boy, surprised by the honesty in his big, bright eyes. “Is there anything you want?” Andrew asked.
Tommy grinned. “Yeah. I want to buy flowers for my mom. She works really hard, but I don’t have any money.”
Andrew sighed again, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a few bills. “Here. Get your flowers. Maybe buy yourself something too. But leave me alone.”
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Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grouch!” He ran out, clutching the money, while Andrew stared at the peppermint candy on the table.
With a sigh, he picked it up, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. To his surprise, the sharp sweetness helped ease the nausea. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference for a while.
That evening, as Andrew stared at his laptop, a nurse knocked on his door.
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She carried a small paper bag. “This is for you,” she said, placing it on the table. “Tommy sent it.”
Andrew opened the bag and found it full of peppermint candies. He shook his head, unsure whether to feel amused or moved.
The next morning, he decided to find Tommy. He needed to make one thing clear: the money wasn’t a gift.
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As he approached Tommy’s room, he saw a woman leaning against the wall, her shoulders shaking. She was crying.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, his voice low.
The woman wiped her eyes quickly and looked up. “Yes… Did you need something?”
“Tommy gave me some candies yesterday,” Andrew said.
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The woman’s lips curved into a small smile. “Oh, so you’re Mr. Grouch,” she said.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “My name’s Andrew,” he replied.
“I’m Sara,” she said. “Are you here for treatment too?”
Andrew nodded.
“Then you understand,” Sara said quietly. “The bills, the stress. I can’t even pay rent right now. They told me we’ll be evicted in two months.”
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Andrew nodded again, unsure of what to say. Before he could respond, the door burst open. Tommy ran out, his face lighting up when he saw Andrew. “Hey, Mr. Grouch!” he called, grinning ear to ear.
From that day forward, Tommy became a constant presence in Andrew’s life.
The boy would wander into Andrew’s room with a big grin and endless energy. At first, Andrew found it annoying, but Tommy’s persistence wore him down.
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Soon, Andrew began looking forward to the visits. Tommy taught him to notice the simple joys in life.
They sat by the window, watching the sunset, guessing the colors in the sky. They played harmless pranks on nurses, earning scolding looks and stifled smiles.
Sometimes, they “borrowed” wheelchairs and raced down the halls, laughing until their sides hurt.
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Andrew didn’t ask about Tommy’s illness. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. One afternoon, Tommy mentioned Sara had been crying again. “She’s worried about money,” Tommy said. “We might lose our house.”
Andrew quietly gave Tommy an envelope of cash. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When Sara tried to return the money, Andrew waved her off. “I’m not a magician,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from.”
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Weeks passed. Andrew’s treatments worked, and the day came when the doctor gave him the news—he was cancer-free.
Ecstatic, Andrew rushed to share it with Tommy. But when he arrived, Tommy was unconscious, Sara sitting beside him, tears streaming down her face.
“What happened?” Andrew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Sara wiped her eyes and shook her head. “The doctors said there’s nothing more they can do.”
Andrew stared at her, struggling to process the words. “But… he seemed so happy. He always smiled. I thought he was improving.”
Sara looked at him, her face full of pain. “He didn’t want you to see how sick he was. He wanted to be strong for you. He thought he was a superhero.”
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Andrew’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
Sara managed a faint smile through her tears. “Don’t be. He said you saved him. These months, you gave him laughter and hope. You made him forget about being sick.”
Andrew shook his head slowly. “No. He’s the one who saved me.”
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He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. She cried quietly against his shoulder, and though Andrew wished he could take her pain away, he knew nothing would ever truly ease it.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of his mother and the memories he had made.
Andrew sat alone in his room afterward, overwhelmed by the loss. Andrew couldn’t bear the thought of such a bright soul being forgotten.
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Determined, he started a foundation in Tommy’s name to help sick children, ensuring his kindness would live on.
He also stayed in touch with Sara, offering her support in every way he could.
One afternoon, Andrew stood at his ex-wife’s door, holding the painting she had demanded for so long. She opened the door, her mouth ready to hurl accusations, but Andrew silently handed her the painting.
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“I’m not here to argue,” Andrew said, his tone calm as he held out the painting.
His ex-wife frowned, puzzled. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” Andrew replied, a small smile forming. “I’m just making sure I keep my superpowers.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Taking care of Mom was hard enough without the tension with my sister. Accusations flew when precious things started disappearing. I thought I knew who was to blame, but the truth shattered my world. Betrayal came from where I least expected, leaving me questioning everything—and everyone—I trusted.
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Sou um mau marido por causa da minha reação ao presente de Dia dos Pais que minha esposa me deu?
O casamento de Jackson parece tenso depois que sua esposa, Savannah, expressa sua insatisfação com o Dia das Mães. Conforme o Dia dos Pais se aproxima, Jackson espera um dia tranquilo para relaxar. Mas Savannah tem outros planos. Quando ela apresenta seu presente inesperado, Jackson fica questionando seu papel como marido, sentindo-se mais inquieto do que nunca.
Entrei na garagem e desliguei o motor. Eram 8 da noite, e eu sabia que estava atrasado.
Um homem dentro de um carro | Fonte: Pexels
Eu estava trabalhando muitas horas por duas semanas seguidas, mal vendo Savannah e nossos quatro filhos: Madison, 10, Olivia, 5, Ethan, 4, e nossa bebê Lily, de apenas 9 meses.
Enquanto eu caminhava até a casa, eu esperava que o presente que eu comprei compensasse não estar lá em um dia tão especial para Savannah. Era uma bolsa de grife que ela queria há meses, e eu só queria que ela trouxesse um sorriso ao seu rosto.
Uma mulher segurando uma bolsa de couro | Fonte: Pexels
Toquei a campainha e esperei.
Momentos depois, a porta se abriu e, na soleira, estava Savannah com Lily nos braços, parecendo exausta.
Uma mulher com um bebê nos braços | Fonte: Midjourney
“Feliz Dia das Mães”, eu disse, entregando-lhe o presente.
“Sério, você não precisava. Obrigada, Jackson,” ela respondeu, pegando o presente. Ela me levou até a mesa de jantar, onde cuidadosamente colocou a caixa.
Uma caixa de presente | Fonte: Unsplash
“Você não vai ver o que é?”
“Tudo o que eu queria era um tempo sozinha hoje, querida,” ela suspirou. “Eu precisava de uma pausa de ser necessária a cada minuto.”
As palavras dela me atingiram com força. “Sinto muito, Savannah. Eu tinha que trabalhar e não consegui sair até umas 6:30. E então, fui comprar seu presente.”
Um casal conversando em casa | Fonte: Pexels
Ela suspirou, colocando o presente de lado. “Eu entendo. Mas você poderia ter me dado esse presente em qualquer outro dia. Hoje, eu precisava descansar.”
Eu vi a exaustão em seus olhos e ouvi em sua voz. As crianças estavam exigindo o dia todo, e ela não teve um momento para si mesma. Eu queria melhorar, mas eu estava tão cansado.
Um casal discutindo | Fonte: Pexels
“Eu vou compensar você,” eu prometi. “Talvez neste fim de semana eu possa levar as crianças para passear, e você possa ter um tempo para si mesma.”
Savannah assentiu, embora não parecesse totalmente convencida.
Uma mulher perdida em pensamentos | Fonte: Pexels
Passamos por todas as tarefas da noite, preparando as crianças para dormir.
Quando todos estavam dormindo, já eram quase 22h.
Uma criança dormindo | Fonte: Pexels
Enquanto subíamos na cama, Savannah olhou para mim com uma expressão esperançosa. “Você pode me dar uma massagem nas costas, querida? Meus ombros estão me matando.”
“Claro”, eu disse, ansioso para fazer algo para ajudar.
Um homem cuidando da dor nas costas de uma mulher | Fonte: Pexels
Comecei a esfregar os ombros dela, mas eu estava tão cansado. A exaustão das longas semanas de trabalho me atingiu de uma vez. Lutei para ficar acordado, mas meus olhos ficaram pesados e, antes que eu percebesse, eu tinha adormecido.
O suspiro de decepção de Savannah foi a última coisa que ouvi antes que o sono tomasse conta.
Um homem dormindo | Fonte: Pexels
A lembrança do Dia das Mães ainda estava na minha mente quando chegou o Dia dos Pais.
Decidi sair do trabalho mais cedo, não porque tivesse planejado algo especial, mas porque não havia muito trabalho para fazer. Terminei minhas tarefas rapidamente e bati o ponto ao meio-dia.
Um homem no trabalho | Fonte: Unsplash
No escritório, meu colega de trabalho, Bob, notou meu ritmo. “Jackson, você está voando por esses relatórios hoje. Qual é a pressa?”
“É Dia dos Pais”, eu disse, pegando meu casaco. “Achei que aproveitaria a carga de trabalho leve e voltaria para casa mais cedo.”
Bob riu. “Sorte sua. Aproveite, cara. Aproveite ao máximo.”
Um homem sentado à mesa com um laptop | Fonte: Unsplash
Com tudo pronto, fui para casa. Entrei pela porta por volta das 12:30, me sentindo satisfeito com minha decisão.
Savannah me recebeu com um sorriso caloroso.
Um casal se abraçando | Fonte: Midjourney
“Feliz Dia dos Pais”, ela disse, me dando um abraço. “O que você quer para o jantar hoje à noite?”
Dei de ombros. “Não sei, o que você quiser está bom para mim.”
Comida e vinho | Fonte: Unsplash
Savannah assentiu. “Okay. O que você quer fazer hoje? Podemos ir pescar ou nadar com as crianças.”
Hesitei por um momento, imaginando uma tarde tranquila na garagem. “Sinceramente… tudo o que eu quero é relaxar e trabalhar na minha caminhonete sem interrupções”, eu disse. “Sabe, eu estava esperando poder ter um tempo para mim.”
Um casal discutindo em casa | Fonte: Midjourney
A expressão de Savannah mudou instantaneamente. “Não, você pode sair com as crianças no Dia dos Pais.”
Franzi a testa. “Por quê? É Dia dos Pais. Eu não deveria poder fazer o que eu quiser?”
Um homem chateado | Fonte: Freepik
Savannah olhou para mim firmemente. “Por que você deveria ter um dia relaxante, sem estresse e sem crianças, se você não pode me dar nem um pouquinho disso no Dia das Mães? Você pode sair com as crianças no Dia dos Pais.”
As palavras dela me pegaram de surpresa. Abri a boca para responder, mas ela continuou: “É meu presente para você. Já que você trabalha tanto e não tem tempo para se relacionar com seus filhos, estou lhe dando essa chance! Aproveite!”
Uma mulher com dois filhos | Fonte: Freepik
Ela me entregou Lily, deixando claro que eu estava de plantão como mãe naquele dia.
“Pai, podemos assistir a um filme?” Olivia perguntou, segurando um DVD.
Uma menina sorridente | Fonte: Freepik
Suspirei, sentindo o peso do dia. “Claro, vamos colocar.”
Colocamos o DVD e eu me acomodei no sofá, esperando por um momento de paz. Mas a paz não estava nas cartas. Assim que o filme começou, Madison perguntou: “Pai, você pode me trazer um pouco de pipoca?”
Uma tigela de pipoca | Fonte: Unsplash
Levantei e fui até a cozinha, rapidamente fazendo uma tigela de pipoca. Assim que me sentei novamente, Ethan disse: “Pai, preciso de uma bebida.”
Reprimi outro suspiro e voltei para a cozinha para pegar bebidas.
Uma mini-geladeira com bebidas | Fonte: Unsplash
Quando voltei, Lily estava agitada. Tentei embalá-la gentilmente, mas ela começou a chorar mais alto. Senti minha frustração aumentando. Eu só queria um dia para relaxar e trabalhar na minha caminhonete. Era pedir demais?
Olivia, enquanto isso, não conseguia ficar parada. “Papai, você pode sentar comigo?”, ela perguntou, puxando minha manga.
Foto em close de uma garota sorridente | Fonte: Freepik
“Claro, querida,” eu disse, mudando Lily para um braço e colocando o outro em volta de Olivia. Assim que eu pensei que as coisas estavam se acalmando, Madison decidiu discutir com Ethan sobre qual personagem era o melhor.
“Batman é melhor que Superman!”, declarou Madison.
Duas crianças discutindo | Fonte: Freepik
“De jeito nenhum! O Superman é o mais forte!” Ethan retrucou.
“Crianças, falem baixo”, eu disse, tentando manter minha voz calma. “Vamos só assistir ao filme!”
Um homem cansado | Fonte: Unsplash
Mas elas continuaram a discutir, e eu me vi bancando o árbitro. O tempo todo, Lily continuou se agitando, e Olivia se contorcia em seu assento.
Minha frustração aumentou. Eu esperava um dia relaxante, mas, em vez disso, estava lidando com todo esse caos.
Um homem frustrado | Fonte: Unsplash
Parecia injusto. No Dia das Mães, Savannah deixou claro que precisava de descanso, e eu não consegui dar isso a ela. Agora, no Dia dos Pais, ela estava se vingando, e eu não conseguia nem ter um momento para mim. Eu só queria um dia, e não podia ter isso, hein?
Depois de colocar as crianças para dormir, sentei-me sozinha na sala de estar, a casa finalmente silenciosa.
Um homem cansado | Fonte: Midjourney
As palavras de Savannah continuavam ecoando em minha mente: “Por que você deveria ter um dia relaxante, sem estresse e sem crianças, se você não pode me dar nem um pouquinho disso no Dia das Mães?”
Lembrei-me da expressão frustrada dela mais cedo naquele dia. Não era só sobre hoje.
“Sabe, Jackson,” ela havia dito antes, “nos últimos Dias das Mães e nos meus aniversários, você sempre esteve no trabalho. Eu nunca consegui fazer nada que eu queria.”
Uma mulher conversando com o marido | Fonte: Pexels
Tentei explicar: “Savannah, você sabe que meu trabalho não dá folgas nesses feriados. Não consigo evitar.”
“Mas meu trabalho sim”, ela disse. “Meu empregador dá folga no Dia das Mães para todas as mães e folga no Dia dos Pais para todos os pais, assim como todos os aniversários. Eu sempre tenho folga, mas você nunca tem. É difícil fazer algo especial para mim mesma quando estou sozinha com as crianças.”
Uma mulher reclamando com o marido | Fonte: Pexels
Senti uma pontada de culpa. Ela estava certa. Ela sempre tinha o dia de folga, mas eu nunca estava lá para ajudá-la a torná-lo especial. Era difícil para ela, e eu não entendia verdadeiramente até agora.
Eu me recostei no sofá, passando a mão pelo cabelo. “Estou errada por estar chateada com o presente de Dia dos Pais?”, eu me perguntei em voz alta.
Um homem frustrado recostado no sofá | Fonte: Freepik
Eu sabia que não tinha base para me apoiar. Savannah tinha razão. Durante anos, ela estava sacrificando seus dias especiais por causa da minha agenda de trabalho. Eu queria me sentir justificada em minha frustração, mas o raciocínio dela era claro.
Eu ainda não achava que o que ela fez foi justo, no entanto. Eu esperava uma pausa hoje, uma chance de relaxar e fazer algo que eu gostava. Ela poderia ter sido uma pessoa maior e me deixado ter minha pausa!
Eu sou um mau marido por reagir assim?
Um homem deprimido | Fonte: Pexels
Um trabalhador da construção civil | Fonte: Unsplash
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