Oliver was heading home after a tough shift. The street was melting under the sun: the heat was unbearable, at least thirty degrees Celsius. People seemed to have disappeared — hiding in their homes, the subway, or under the few trees. The air shimmered, the asphalt radiated heat into his feet.

He turned onto the usual path past the old supermarket when he suddenly stopped. Not because he was tired or saw someone. No. It was like something grabbed him from inside. Crying. A child’s cry.

He froze. His heart pounded. He looked back — a parking lot. Almost empty. And there, in the shade under a dried-up tree — a car. An expensive foreign make. Dark tinted windows. The sound came from there.

He slowly approached. His steps felt heavy in his chest. Fogged windows. And inside… yes, there was a child. A boy. About a year old, no more. His cheeks were flushed, eyes half-closed, lips cracked from thirst.

Oliver yanked at the door. Locked. He went around — still locked.

“Someone! HELP!” he shouted. No one came.

Then he saw a stone by the curb. A voice in his head said: “You can’t. It’s a crime.” But his gaze fell again on the child.
Oliver grabbed the stone and smashed the glass.

A wave of scorching heat burst out. He threw the door open, pulled off the seatbelt. Scooped the boy into his arms — he was barely breathing. And ran. The clinic was two blocks away. He didn’t feel his legs, he just ran. The doors hissed open.

“HELP!” he shouted.

A nurse ran over.

“The child… in the car… heat… he…” he barely managed to say.

They took the child away. They told him: he arrived just in time.

Fifteen minutes later, a woman came into the clinic. She ran up, saw Oliver — and instead of thanking him, exploded:

“You BROKE my car?! Are you crazy?! I WROTE my number on the windshield! I was only in the supermarket for a minute!”

Oliver said nothing. He just looked at her like he still couldn’t believe it. A minute? In this heat?

“You’re going to pay for the repairs! I’m calling the police!” she shouted, already pulling out her phone.

When the police arrived, something very unexpected happened… Continued in the first comment

The police came quickly. One officer — short, stocky, with precise movements — listened to Oliver. Everything. From beginning to end. He nodded. Then slowly turned to the woman.

“You left an infant in a car at over thirty degrees with the windows closed?” he asked dryly.

“I told you, just for a minute…”

“You’re facing loss of parental rights,” he interrupted coldly. “And criminal charges for endangering the child’s life.”

The woman went pale.

“And you, young man, well done. You acted quickly and saved a child’s life. It’s a pity the parents are so ungrateful. I’m starting to doubt this was an accident. We need heroes like you!”

Oliver stood nearby. His hands were still shaking. He wanted nothing — no punishment for her, no praise for himself. He just did what he had to do.

What do you think? Did the young man do the right thing?