When a Workaholic Businessman Receives Devastating News About His Health, He Meets a Boy in the Hospital Who Changes His View on Life. Their Bond Grows Through Unexpected Friendship and Small Acts of Kindness, Teaching Him What Truly Matters, Until a Heartbreaking Twist Changes Everything.
Andrew, 50 years old, was sitting at his desk, shuffling papers while juggling meetings with his partners.
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He didn’t hear Michael, his assistant, enter the room. Michael stood there, waiting. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.
There was no response. Andrew remained focused on his work. 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 let you know 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 must warn you: it’s a direct quote. These are her words, not mine.” He read the note: “‘Arrogant fool, I’ll never forgive you for making me waste so many years of my life. If you don’t return my painting, I’ll destroy your car.’ That’s the message.”
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Andrew’s face turned red. “We’ve been divorced for two years! Doesn’t she have anything better to do?”
Michael looked at him, waiting for further instructions. “Should I respond to her?”
“No! And stop answering her calls,” Andrew snapped. Then he paused. “Actually, tell her I threw that painting in the trash!”
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Andrew grabbed a pen and threw it at the wall. Michael ducked slightly, nodded politely, and left the room.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He frowned and answered.
“Andrew Smith?” a voice asked.
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“This is the hospital. Your test results are in. The doctor wants to see you.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew said irritably. “I’m busy.”
“I’m sorry, sir. The doctor will explain it to you 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 taking a lunch break, but this time was different. The doctor’s office was silent, with only the ticking of the wall clock breaking the stillness.
Andrew sat stiffly in a chair, his fingers tapping on the armrest. When the door opened, the doctor entered, his face serious. Andrew frowned, sensing bad news.
When a Workaholic Businessman Receives Devastating News About His Health, He Meets a Boy in the Hospital Who Changes His View on Life. Their Bond Grows Through Unexpected Friendship and Small Acts of Kindness, Teaching Him What Truly Matters, Until a Heartbreaking Twist Changes Everything.
The doctor sat across from him and spoke in a firm, measured tone, using terms Andrew didn’t understand.
Then came the word: cancer. “We need to act quickly,” said the doctor.
“Is this a joke?” Andrew asked, his voice high-pitched. “I own a business. I can’t just check into a hospital like this.”
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The doctor looked him in the eye. “Your health must come first. The business can wait.”
Andrew leaned forward. “What are my chances of improving?”
“I can’t promise you anything,” said the doctor. “Starting treatment right away is crucial.”
Andrew raised his voice. “Can I keep working while I’m here?”
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“The treatment affects everyone differently,” the doctor explained. “You’ll stay in the hospital so we can monitor you. You can bring a computer and try to work.”
Andrew frowned and stood up. “Fine. I’ll manage.”
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 down the hospital’s pediatric wing, he saw an eight-year-old boy tossing a ball back and forth with a nurse.
The sound of their laughter echoed in the hallway. Suddenly, the ball rolled to the floor and stopped near Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir!” the boy shouted, smiling. “Can you please throw the ball back?”
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Andrew picked up the ball, his face tight. Without saying a word, he threw it down the hallway, far from the boy and the nurse, and then turned and walked away.
“That was mean, sir!” the boy shouted.
Andrew had been at the hospital for days that felt like weeks. He tried to keep working, setting up his laptop and attending meetings.
But the treatment was draining. Each session left him weaker. The nausea was constant, and sleeping 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 cut through his fog. He opened his eyes and saw a boy standing in front of him. Startled, Andrew sat up. The boy let out a little laugh. It was the same boy from the hallway.
“What do you want, kid?” Andrew muttered, not looking at him.
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“I’ve been walking around the hospital looking for someone to play with. This is boring.”
Andrew looked at him, annoyed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tommy,” the boy replied with a big smile.
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 put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small mint candy. He handed it to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated, then took the candy and placed it on the table.
“You’re so grumpy!” Tommy said, laughing. “I’m going to call you Mr. Grumpy. Are you mad because you’re scared of the needles?” He pointed to the IV in Andrew’s arm.
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Andrew frowned. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Tommy nodded. “It’s okay. I was scared at first too, but then I stopped being scared. My mom says I’m a superhero. Do you have any superpowers?”
“No,” Andrew said, his voice hoarse.
“That’s because you’re too sad,” Tommy replied, now serious.
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Andrew looked at the boy, surprised by the sincerity in his big, bright eyes. “Do you want something?” Andrew asked.
Tommy smiled. “Yes. I want to buy flowers for my mom. She works a lot, but I don’t have money.”
Andrew sighed again, searched his wallet, and pulled out a few bills. “Here. Buy her the flowers. And if there’s any left, get something for yourself. But leave me alone.”
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Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grumpy!” He ran off, clutching the money, while Andrew stared at the mint candy on the table.
With a sigh, he picked it up, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. To his surprise, the sharp sweetness helped ease the nausea. It wasn’t much, but for a while, it was something.
That night, as Andrew looked at his laptop, a nurse knocked on his door.
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She was holding a paper bag. “This is for you,” she said, placing it on the table. “It’s from Tommy.”
Andrew opened the bag and found it filled with mint candies. He shook his head, not sure whether to feel amused or touched.
The next morning, he decided to find Tommy. He had to make one thing clear: the money wasn’t a gift.
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When he approached Tommy’s room, he saw a woman leaning against the wall, her shoulders shaking. She was crying.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked softly.
The woman quickly wiped her eyes and looked up. “Yes… Do you need something?”
“Tommy gave me some candies yesterday,” Andrew said.
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The woman’s lips curved into a small smile. “Ah, so you’re Mr. Grumpy,” she said.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “My name is Andrew,” he replied.
“I’m Sara,” she said. “Are you here for treatment too?”
“Then you understand,” Sara said quietly. “The bills, the stress. Right now, I can’t even pay the rent. They’ve told me we’ll be evicted in two months.”
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Andrew nodded again, not knowing what to say. Before he could respond, the door swung open. Tommy came running out and his face lit up when he saw Andrew. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy!” he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.
From that day on, Tommy became a constant presence in Andrew’s life.
The boy would enter Andrew’s room with a big smile and boundless energy. At first, it annoyed Andrew, but Tommy’s persistence wore him down.
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Soon, Andrew started to look forward to the visits. Tommy taught him to focus on the simple joys of life.
They would sit by the window, watching the sunset, guessing the colors of the sky. They played harmless pranks on the nurses, earning reprimanding looks and suppressed smiles.
Sometimes, they “borrowed” wheelchairs and rolled down the hallways, laughing until their sides ached.
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Andrew never asked about Tommy’s illness. He didn’t know how to bring it up. One afternoon, Tommy said that Sara had been crying again. “She’s worried about the money,” Tommy said. “We might lose the house.”
Andrew discreetly handed Tommy an envelope with money. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When Sara tried to return the money, Andrew waved his hand. “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.
Overjoyed, Andrew rushed to share the news with Tommy. But when he arrived, Tommy was unconscious, with Sara sitting beside him, tears in her eyes.
“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 was always smiling. I thought he was getting better.”
Sara looked at him, her face filled with 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 weak smile through her tears. “Don’t be sorry. He said you saved him. These months, you gave him laughter and hope. You made him forget he was sick.”
Andrew slowly shook his head. “No. It was him who saved me.”
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He approached and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle embrace. She cried silently against his shoulder, and although Andrew wished he could take away her pain, he knew that nothing could truly ease it.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of his mother and the memories he had created.
Afterward, Andrew sat alone in his room, overwhelmed by the loss. He couldn’t bear the thought of such a bright soul fading into oblivion.
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Determined, he created a foundation in Tommy’s name to help sick children, ensuring that his kindness would live on.
He also kept in touch with Sara, offering his support in any way he could.
One afternoon, Andrew stood at his ex-wife’s door, holding the painting she had demanded from him for so long. She opened the door, her mouth ready to hurl accusations, but Andrew handed her the painting in silence.
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“I haven’t come to argue,” Andrew said in a calm tone as he extended the painting to her.
His ex frowned, puzzled. “What’s the meaning of this?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” Andrew replied, offering a small smile. “I’m just making sure I keep my superpowers.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and left.
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