Luca had been wandering the streets for nights, with only two coins left and wet clothes from last night’s rain. His mother died two years ago, and since then, everything fell apart.
He stayed near the church because it felt safe. Learning his story, the parish priest thought of Mrs. Elena Popescu, an elderly woman living alone after her son left. Maybe she could offer Luca a room.
When the priest proposed it to Elena, she hesitated for a few moments. She looked at the boy — thin, with sad eyes, his hands cracked from the cold. Then she said gently:
— He can stay with me on a trial basis, just for a start. If he doesn’t like it or wants something else, he can leave. But if he wants to stay, then let him stay.
Elena took him home immediately. She held his hand on the way, gently asking what he liked to eat, if he would want to have dinner with her.
Later, the woman prepared the bed where her son once slept, while she retreated to her own bedroom. But she couldn’t sleep. She lay still in the dark, listening to every little sound.
And then she heard the door slowly opening.
Elena shivered. It was Luca. He was quietly sneaking into her bedroom. The woman watched him through the slits of her half-open eyelids. Her eyes, long accustomed to darkness, clearly saw the silhouette approaching stealthily.
He was holding something in his hand. Something small. He stopped by her head. Had he changed his mind? What was he planning? God, had I made a mistake letting him in?
In that moment, Luca leaned in slightly. Elena held her breath, her heart pounding so loudly she thought the noise might give her away. His hand slowly approached her face, clutching a shiny object in his palm.
A moment of pure terror followed.
But then…
With gentle movements, Luca placed something on the nightstand, next to her head. He glanced at her for a second more, then left just as quietly as he had entered.
Elena stayed motionless for minutes, unable to move. When she finally opened her eyes and sat up, she saw on the nightstand a small, old icon, carefully cleaned. And next to it — a folded piece of paper.
With trembling hands, she unfolded it. Written on the paper, in large, awkward letters, was:
“Thank you for letting me believe again that the world isn’t only cruel. I don’t want to scare you. I will leave in the morning. May God reward you for a warm evening and a soul saved.”
Tears were already streaming down his cheeks. He wasn’t a thief.He was just a lost child in his own life, who had found, for a moment, a shard of light.
In the morning, Luca was no longer there. In the room where he had slept, the bed was made, the plate washed, and in place of the pillow — a dried rose.
Elena remained in the doorway, holding the icon in her hands. And for the first time after many years of loneliness, she truly smiled.
That evening, she set two plates on the table. One remained untouched.
And so she did many nights in a row, holding onto a fragile hope that maybe, who knows, Luca would return someday.
Where could that boy be now?