— This is for you… Mom said to give it to you. She said: “In case…”

Marta opened it. The handwriting was uneven, as if written with great effort:

“Hello. If you’re reading this letter, that means I’m no longer here. My son’s name is Leo. He’s ten. He’s kind, hardworking, and far too serious for his age.

Please — don’t let him be alone. He has no one else. He’s strong, but he’s still just a child. I’m sorry for asking. But I have no one else to turn to.”

Marta finished reading and only then realized she was crying. Leo stood on the doorstep, still, clutching the strap of his backpack.

— Are you hungry? — she asked softly.

He nodded.

— Then come in. I’ve got soup. And a place…

He didn’t say a word. But for the first time — he smiled, just a little.