My son Arthur has always been an open and friendly teenager. But in recent weeks I have almost stopped getting to know him. He has become silent, withdrawn, and avoids conversation. When I ask him questions, he only waves: “Is everything okay, Mom.”
One evening, while cleaning his room, I accidentally knocked over his backpack. It fell, and a pack of diapers was sticking out of it. Real, baby diapers.
I froze. Diapers? On a fifteen-year-old boy? My heart skipped a beat. Dozens of disturbing scenarios immediately appeared in my head. But I didn’t dare ask him directly. I knew my son too well – if he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have said anything anyway.
The next day I left the house a little earlier, got into the car, and started watching. When Arthur left, I followed him. He didn’t go to school – he turned toward the old neighborhood. After a few minutes, he stopped at a ruined house. He looked around, pulled out a key… and went inside.
I waited a moment. Then I went up and knocked.
The door didn’t open right away. It creaked. Behind it stood Artur — surprised, with a bag in his hand.
“Mom?” — he turned pale. — What are you doing here?
“You’d better tell me. What’s going on?”
He lowered his gaze. In the room behind him I saw a young girl and a child in a stroller. The little one looked at me with big eyes, panting quietly. The room was clean, but it was obvious that they lived very modestly, almost in poverty.
“It’s my friend’s family,” Artur finally said. “His sister was left alone with the child. It’s hard for her. I just wanted to help. Diapers, food… what I can do.”
I was silent. My throat tightened with emotion.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know… I thought you wouldn’t understand me. Or forbid me. And they really need help.”
I went up and hugged him tightly.
— Arthur, I am proud of you. And I will not let you carry all this alone.
Since then, we have been helping this young woman together. I understood that my son was growing up. His strange behavior turned out not to be a withdrawal, but an expression of kindness. He did not talk about his deeds — he simply did them.
Sometimes important stories begin with silence. And they end with us getting to know our loved ones again — for real.
This story is fictional, and any similarities to real events or people are coincidental.