That night, the city slept… but Kalin did not.
He lay on his side, using a piece of folded cardboard as a pillow, the cold ground pressing against his small body. Beside him, Kala slept peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling softly. She was curled close to him, trusting him completely, unaware of how heavy the world felt on her brother's shoulders.
Kalin stared up at the sky.
Between the tall buildings and broken rooftops, a few stars were still visible. They flickered weakly, yet stubbornly, as if refusing to disappear.
He smiled.
Not because he was happy—but because those stars reminded him that dreams still existed, even for someone like him.
I will protect her, he thought.
I will find a way… to be safe… to go back home… someday.
His mind filled with questions too big for a child his age.
How could he earn money without being hurt?
Where could they live without fear?
And most of all… how could he ever find his way back to his parents?
Kala moved in her sleep and whispered something softly. Kalin gently placed his hand over hers, calming her.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I promise."
The Next Morning
When the sun rose, Kalin made a decision.
A real one.
He walked alone toward the coffee shop—the same place that had once given him work, and pain.
The owner stood behind the counter, arms crossed, wearing that same careless smile.
"I'm not working here anymore," Kalin said clearly.
The man laughed. "Go then. Like I care."
Kalin didn't lower his eyes this time.
"It's better I leave," he continued, his small voice firm. "You caused me a lot of pain. And one day… I will report you."
The man burst into louder laughter. "Report me? You?"
Kalin didn't answer. He turned around and walked out.
In his pocket, he counted the little money he had—barely enough for food. But he didn't cry.
Instead, he whispered to himself, "I'll find another way."
A Home Made of Cardboard
Their "home" was a fragile shelter made of cardboard boxes, carefully fixed together by Kalin's small hands. He had expanded it slightly so both he and Kala could fit inside.
It wasn't much—but it was theirs.
And they survived.
The old woman noticed.
That same afternoon, she came to them again. She looked at the cardboard shelter, her eyes filling with sadness.
"My children," she said gently, "this place is not good for you."
Kalin and Kala looked at each other.
Without hesitation, they took her hands.
They were happy.
She led them to her house.
An Unexpected Warmth
When they entered, Kalin froze.
The house was small—but peaceful. Clean. Quiet. Warm.
There were soft chairs, old framed photos on the walls, and the smell of cooked food filled the air. Everything felt… safe.
Kala clung to Kalin's shirt, amazed.
They sat beside the old woman, looking around with wide eyes.
"You live alone?" Kalin asked softly.
She nodded. "Yes… mostly."
She explained gently: her children lived outside the country. They sent her money to live comfortably. A kind helper came sometimes to assist her.
The house was full of memories—every corner held a story.
She prepared a delicious meal for them. Kalin and Kala sat quietly, eating shyly.
"Eat comfortably," she smiled. "You are safe here."
A Child's Story
She sat on her rocking chair and looked at Kalin kindly.
"How old are you, my dear?"
"Six," Kalin answered.
Her smile faded into sadness. "So young…"
"And your family?"
Kalin lowered his eyes.
"I wanted to help my family… to earn money for them," he said slowly.
"But I went too far… and I didn't know how to return. My little sister followed me by accident."
Kala leaned against him.
"I lost hope," he continued. "So I decided to keep working… to live with my sister. She is three years old."
He paused.
"One day… I want to go to school. And I want to become a police officer."
The old woman smiled warmly.
"Do not worry," she said. "You are safe with me now. I will try to find your family. They must be worried about you."
She reached out and touched his head gently.
"This dream… will come true. I promise you. A very big dream."
Kalin smiled softly.
"May I know your name?"
She laughed gently. "My name is Anya."
"That's a beautiful name," Kalin said.
"And I like you too," Anya replied sincerely. "You are a polite, kind boy. And your little sister…" she glanced at Kala, "…she eats like she's always hungry."
Kala smiled proudly.
They finished their meal.
Anya stood up. "I have warm clothes for you. And a place to sleep. Then… I'll tell you a beautiful story."
For the first time in a long while…
Kalin felt like a child again.
Under the same stars… but finally, not alone