12-year-old David was excited to buy new sneakers after saving up for months but decided to buy boots for his classmate whose shoes were tattered. Little did he know that his kindness would be rewarded in an unexpected way.
David always found himself a window seat on the school bus back home. As always, he opened the window wide and let the afternoon breeze brush across his face as he recollected the game he played that day, moment by moment.
“That was unbelievable, what you did on the field today!” one of his mates had said.
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“I think we’ve got a national-level player on our hands, guys. Get your autographs while you can!” another player teased David, patting his back almost a bit too hard.
That was the distant dream — playing for his country and creating history, like all his soccer heroes.
David could almost taste it; the sweet air of victory and pride when his team and he held the golden championship trophy and smiled for the photographs.
David would constantly rehearse what he would say for the cameras and the papers at the end of the match. How he rose from humble beginnings. And how he owed his mother everything he had become.
“Excuse me, may I sit here?”
David was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t realize one of his classmates had asked permission to sit next to him.
The boy sat down next to David, hugged his backpack, and started dreaming his own dream. ‘I want to become the best soccer player in the school. Just like David. I can’t believe I’m sitting next to him!’
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The boy was a true fan of David’s game and wouldn’t miss a chance to watch him play. In his mind, David was everything he wanted to be. He wanted to play like him, have tons of friends like him, and even wear those fancy soccer shoes David was wearing.
‘These old tattered shoes should do…for now,’ the boy thought, hiding his feet under the seat out of embarrassment.
Guillermo was always shy and found it challenging to make friends. One day, the boy finally found the courage to talk to his hero.
“Hi, David! I’m Guillermo. I’m your biggest fan!”
“Oh? Hi, Guillermo! Thank you.”
There was an awkward silence as David went back to daydreaming.
“I…really like your shoes!” Guillermo blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
“These? These are really old, and the soles have already started to come off. You should see the new shoes I’ll be getting…” David’s eyes lit up, thinking about the dreamy pair of sneakers he had been saving up for.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
“Tell me more about them!” Guillermo said, slowly tucking his feet under the seat. He didn’t want David to see how ugly and tattered his own shoes were.
“Well, they’re perfect! They’re neon orange, and they’ve got unbeatable grip…”
It had been seven months since David had been raising money to buy the pair of sneakers he wanted. This was the first time the 12-year-old wanted to buy something for himself. And he wanted to do it without burdening his mother. He knew how hard his mother worked, struggling to provide for him and his two younger twin sisters.
“Mom, you don’t need to contribute. Tracy and Katie have their birthdays coming up soon, and you need to save up to throw a tea party, remember?”
David saved up enough money. He did it with the help of a short paper route every morning and the savings from the lemonade stand he had put up the last vacation. Until one day, his piggy bank was full, and he finally had enough to bring his dream shoes home.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
On the bus ride home from school that day, he couldn’t stop talking about it with Guillermo.
“Guillermo! I did it! I’m going straight to the store after homework this evening and buying the best sneakers in town. In fact, I’ll come and pick you up, and you can accompany me to the shop. It’s going to be the best feeling ever!”
Guillermo felt genuine happiness for his idol. That’s when the bus suddenly jolted over a pothole, and one of Guillermo’s shoes fell off onto the bus floor.
David was taken aback at the sight of the worn-out, blackened shoe. It was a pair of thin, low-quality summer shoes that had seen too many seasons. There were holes in the sole, the canvas was coming apart, and there was no sign of a lace.
Guillermo let the other shoe fall, giving in to the feeling of shame.
David had tears in his eyes when he looked at his friend, hiding his face in his palms, sobbing quietly but uncontrollably. The two boys didn’t know what to say to each other for the rest of the ride.
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“Be ready by 5 o’clock!” David finally reminded Guillermo of the evening’s plan to visit the store. There was no way David was going to the store alone. Not after what he had seen.
“Ah, David! Here to pick up your new pair of soccer shoes? I’ve got them packed and ready right here.”
“Hold on, sir. Could you show me a pair of those in a smaller size?” David said, pointing at a pair of comfortable boots.
Always help the needy whenever you can.
The shop owner, Mr. Manning, was confused. “But the ones I packed are your exact size, Dave.”
“Not for me, for my friend here,” Dave replied.
Guillermo couldn’t believe what he had heard. He couldn’t possibly let David do that.
“No, David, I don’t need—”
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David squeezed Guillermo’s hand and blinked softly to quiet him. “I’ve got this, Guillermo. You’re always calling me your hero. Let me try and be one for you.”
Mr. Manning heard this exchange between the boys and felt a warmth of love and affection rise in his chest. He knew exactly what to do.
“Woah, this one looks great on you, friend. And it’s the absolute best we’ve got in this store.”
David was finally satisfied with the pair of boots he had bought for his friend. Guillermo’s shame had turned to overwhelm, gratitude, and pure joy over his unexpected gift.
As the boys left the store and cycled away, Mr. Manning signaled his staff. “Listen, there’s something we need to do right away…”
“David! There’s someone at the door for you! He arrived with an entire truck, actually.” David’s mother couldn’t make heads or tails of the strange visitor, either.
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David rushed to the door and found a familiar face. It was Mr. Manning, the shoe store owner. “I heard you talking to your friend at the store, Dave. I know what you did.”
David’s mother leaned in with a crease of suspicion sitting on her brow.
“I know how much you wanted those spiked sneakers, and I’ve seen you selling lemonade and delivering newspapers. And today, I saw you let all that desire go, just so you could help a friend who was in deeper need than you were.”
David lowered his head out of shyness, catching a glimpse of the proud look on his mother’s face from the corner of his eye.
“And I think this kind of kindness and friendship ought to be celebrated in this day and age. So come on! Get on the back of this truck and pick up as many pairs of shoes as you’d like. For you, your mother, and the twins… Don’t worry about the money; this is all on me.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
David hesitated, looking to his mother for approval. As soon as she nodded, he dashed towards the truck with eyes shining in excitement.
“Hurry, we’ve still got to get to your friend’s house. There are free shoes for him and his family, too!”
What do we learn from this story?
Always help the needy whenever you can. Although David worked hard to buy new sneakers, he used the money to help Guillermo, who was wearing torn shoes.
An act of kindness can be infectious. The shoe store owner noticed David’s kindness. He was inspired by the boy’s actions and decided to help his and his friend’s family.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a boy who received his favorite sneakers from the thrift shop as a gift on his birthday. He noticed an inscription on it and was shocked to learn about its previous owner.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
After My Brother’s Funeral, His Widow Gave Me a Letter – I Wasn’t Ready for What He’d Confessed
At my brother’s funeral, I expected sorrow and silence, not a sealed letter that would turn my world upside down. What he confessed inside rewrote everything I thought I knew about my family.
The sky was gray the morning of my brother’s funeral. The kind of gray that seeps into your bones. Cold, quiet, still.
A gloomy day at a cemetery | Source: Pexels
I stood beside my parents near the front of the small chapel. My black coat felt too tight. My shoes pinched. But I didn’t care. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Eric was gone.
People filled the seats. Some cried. Some just stared ahead. My mother sat stiff, clutching a tissue she never used. Her eyes stayed dry.
“Are you okay, Mom?” I whispered.
People at a funeral service | Source: Pexels
She nodded but didn’t look at me. “Fine, Lily. Just tired.”
She wasn’t fine. She was strange. Distant.
My dad leaned toward a cousin in the second row, whispering something I couldn’t hear. When he noticed me watching, he turned away fast.
Something felt off. Not just sadness. Something else.
A woman standing near a coffin | Source: Pexels
I kept catching them looking at me. My mom. My dad. And then looking away like they were guilty.
Eric’s widow, Laura, sat alone a few rows ahead. Her shoulders shook as she wiped her face. Real tears. Real pain. She didn’t fake it.
When the service ended, people left in twos and threes. Some hugged me. Some said nothing. I barely noticed.
A young woman at a funeral | Source: Pexels
Outside, the wind picked up. I stood by a tree near the parking lot, just needing air.
That’s when I saw Laura, walking toward me with something in her hands.
“Lily,” she said. Her voice cracked. “I need to give you this.”
“What is it?”
A woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
She held out an envelope. My name was written on the front in Eric’s handwriting.
“He asked me to give it to you. After.”
I stared at it. “After what?”
She looked away. “After everything.”
Two women talking at a funeral | Source: Midjourney
I took it with shaking hands. The envelope felt heavier than paper should.
“Did he… say anything else?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Just that it was important.”
I didn’t open it right away. I didn’t want to. Not yet.
A sealed letter on a table | Source: Pexels
I drove home in silence. I sat in the car for a while, staring at the envelope in my lap. My name looked strange in his writing. Like he was still here. Like he’d speak if I opened it.
But I didn’t. Not yet. My mind went back. To him. To us.
Eric was never the warm kind. No hugs. No late-night talks. He never called just to say hi.
A serious man looking at the camera | Source: Pexels
But he always showed up. He came to my high school graduation. Sat in the front row, silent, hands folded.
When I was in the hospital with the flu at sixteen, he was there. Just sitting. Didn’t say much. But didn’t leave.
He was like a shadow. Always around. Never close.
Sometimes, when I looked at him, I felt something more. Like there was something he wanted to say but never did.
A serious man looking to his side | Source: Pexels
He’d glance at me, open his mouth, then close it again. Now he never would.
I walked into my house, sat at the kitchen table, and stared at the envelope one more time. Then I broke the seal.
The paper inside the envelope was folded once. It smelled faintly like him—old books and cologne. My hands shook as I opened it.
A woman opening a letter | Source: Pexels
My dearest Lily,
There’s no easy way to write this. I’ve started and stopped this letter more times than I can count. If you’re reading it, then I never found the courage to say this to your face. I’m sorry for that.
Lily… I’m not just your brother. I’m your father.
I stared at the words. My heart dropped. My stomach twisted.
A shocked woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels
I was fifteen. Young. Stupid. I fell in love with someone who got scared when she found out she was pregnant. She wanted to leave, to run. My parents stepped in. They said they’d raise you as their own—and that I could be your brother. It was supposed to protect you.
But I never stopped being your dad. Not for a single day.
Tears blurred the words. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater.
A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels
I wanted to tell you every time you smiled. Every birthday. Every school play. I wanted to say, ‘That’s my girl.’ But I didn’t. Because I was a boy pretending to be someone I wasn’t.
So I watched you grow from the side. I showed up when I could. I stayed close, but never too close. That was the deal. And the older you got, the harder it got.
A woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave. You deserved more than silence. You deserved the truth.
I love you, Lily. Always.
Love, Dad
The word Dad hit me like a wave.
A shocked woman looking at a letter | Source: Pexels
I dropped the letter and pressed my hands over my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. I cried right there at the kitchen table. Ugly, loud sobs. My chest ached. My whole life had shifted in the space of one page.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
The next morning, I drove to Laura’s house. She opened the door slowly. Her eyes were red, like mine.
A grieving woman opening the door of her house | Source: Midjourney
“You read it,” she whispered.
I nodded.
“Can I come in?”
She stepped aside. We sat in her living room in silence.
A sad woman sitting in her chair | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t know until after we got married,” she finally said. “He told me one night after a bad dream. He was shaking. I asked what was wrong, and he told me everything.”
I looked at her. “Why didn’t he ever tell me?”
Laura swallowed hard. “He wanted to. So many times. But he was scared. Scared it would break your heart. Scared you’d hate him.”
An upset woman looking down | Source: Pexels
I rubbed my hands together. “It makes sense now. All of it. The distance. The quiet way he loved me. It always felt like something was being held back.”
“He loved you more than anything, Lily. That letter tore him apart. But he made me promise—if anything ever happened to him, I had to give it to you.”
“I didn’t know him,” I whispered. “Not really.”
One woman comforting the other one | Source: Pexels
Laura reached for my hand. “You did. You just didn’t know why he was the way he was.”
I nodded slowly. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I didn’t wipe it away.
“I wish he’d told me sooner.”
“So did he.”
A crying woman looking at the camera | Source: Pexels
We sat quietly again. Nothing more needed to be said. But I knew what I had to do next.
I parked outside the house I grew up in. It looked the same. White shutters, neat yard, small porch. But it felt different now—like a place built on secrets.
I rang the bell. My mom opened the door, her smile ready. It dropped the second she saw my face.
A serious woman standing on the porch | Source: Midjourney
“Lily?”
“We need to talk.”
She stepped back without a word.
My dad was in the kitchen, sipping coffee. He looked up, startled.
“Hey, sweetheart—”
A mature man drinking coffee | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, my voice sharper than I meant. “Why did you lie to me my whole life?”
They exchanged a look. My mom sat down. Her hands trembled.
“We didn’t lie,” she said softly. “We were trying to protect you.”
“From what? From the truth? From my own father?”
A sad mature woman | Source: Pexels
“You were a baby,” my dad said. “We thought it would be easier. Simpler.”
“For who? Me? Or you?”
My mom’s eyes filled. “We didn’t want you to feel different. Or confused. Eric was so young. He wasn’t ready.”
“He was ready,” I snapped. “He showed up for me in ways you didn’t even notice. He was there. Always. But I never got to call him Dad. Not once.”
A shouting young woman | Source: Pexels
My mother stood and tried to touch my arm. I stepped back.
“Don’t,” I said. “Please.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We were scared.”
I nodded slowly. “Well, now I’m the one who’s scared. Because I don’t know who I am anymore. And I don’t know how to forgive you.”
A crying woman wiping her nose | Source: Pexels
My father set his mug down like it weighed too much. “Take all the time you need. We’ll be here.”
“I need space,” I said. “That’s all I can ask for right now.”
They didn’t argue. My mom wiped her eyes. My dad just nodded.
I walked out, the letter pressed to my chest like it was the only thing keeping me standing.
A woman walking out clutching a letter to her chest | Source: Midjourney
That night, I sat alone in my apartment, the letter open on the table again. I read it slowly, tracing the lines with my finger.
The pain was still there. But something else was too. Peace. A beginning.
I found a small frame in the back of my closet. I placed the letter inside and set it on my bookshelf.
Right in the center. Where I could see it every day.
A framed letter on a sunlit bookshelf | Source: Midjourney
He was my father. And now, I finally know.
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