The week at the university moved at its usual frantic pace. Professors racing against time, crumpled notes stuffed in my backpack, laughter in the corridor beside Evelyn, who somehow had energy to spare even on the grayest mornings.
And yet, something had changed in me. I no longer stepped into the courtyard without searching for him. The black jacket, the steady walk, the silence that drew every glance.
That afternoon, I decided to walk home. The way wasn't long, and the sun was already sinking behind the buildings, painting the street in gold.
That's when I heard crying.
A boy, no older than seven, sat on the sidewalk. His dirty hands tried to cover his mouth, but I could still see the blood trickling down his chin.
My heart clenched. Without thinking, I stepped forward.
But someone got there first.
Rafael.
He appeared out of nowhere, a small bag of ice in his hand. Without hesitation, he crouched down in front of the boy and spoke in a low, steady voice:
— "Lost a baby tooth, right? Put the ice on it. The bleeding will stop, and the pain too."
He handed the bag over calmly, no dramatic gestures. The boy took it, still crying, but followed his instructions.
A few seconds later, a woman ran up to them. The mother. Nervous, frantic.
— "Oh my God, son!" She crouched down, then looked at Rafael with relief. — "Thank you, young man, thank you so much!"
Rafael only nodded, stood up, and began walking away. His steps firm, his gaze lowered, asking for no recognition.
And then he disappeared around the corner.
I stood frozen, watching.
The boy who carried the reputation of being dangerous, violent, was suddenly the same one who calmly comforted a stranger's child, as if he had always known what to do.
The "bad guy of the university" helping a random kid on the street.
It simply didn't make sense.