Kalin entered the café with Kala the next morning. He hesitated at the entrance, then whispered to himself, I'll go in…
The place was full of people.
I saw him there.
The worker who had seemed kind at first… what had made him change? A sly smile formed on his face, and his eyes carried a hidden cruelty. He was merciless.
He said in a strict tone,
"Alright… let's see what you can do, kid."
He pointed at me, ordering me to start immediately.
Every movement I made was watched closely.
Any small mistake was met with harsh scolding… or a light strike on my hand.
Why so much cruelty?
The day felt endless. I had no rest. My body was exhausted beyond what it could bear.
I carried cups, cleaned tables, and polished the floor… each task testing my patience and endurance.
With every strike, I felt pain in my body.
But the greater pain lived inside my chest—the buried sorrow of what I had endured at home, the helplessness, and the fear of losing my family.
And yet… something kept me going.
My little sister's eyes were watching me from afar.
I noticed her, and I smiled.
Whenever a cup slipped from my hands or I forgot something, she would come closer and whisper:
"Brother… don't let them hurt you."
I didn't answer her.
I was doing this for both of us. Was it wrong for me to work? I had no choice. We needed to survive. We needed each other.
In the middle of the day, a cup of coffee fell—but it was the worker who dropped it. He shouted in anger:
"Why does this keep happening?! Are you stupid? Clean it now!"
I was exhausted. I needed rest. I was just a child… what could I do?
I reorganized everything as fast as I could. It was all I had.
But he wasn't satisfied.
"This is not enough!" he shouted in my face.
With every scream, tears filled my eyes.
But I forced them to stay inside. I had to continue.
Maybe real strength is born from endurance and patience.
By the end of the day, despite the hunger and exhaustion, I looked at my sister and smiled gently.
"Tomorrow… will be better."
I just wanted to give her hope.
I walked toward the worker and held out my hand for my pay.
He said coldly,
"This is your daily wage. Take what you deserve."
I noticed the amount. It was far too little.
"Is this all?" I asked quietly.
He smirked.
"Did I ever say this was your full right? If you argue, you'll regret it."
I took the money silently. Anger burned inside me.
I said nothing. My sister stood beside me, watching with sad eyes.
"Let's go," I told her softly.
We left the café.
I tried to remember the way home… but I realized I had been gone too long.
My sister looked at me as if saying, Let's go home. They'll be happy to see us.
Fear filled my chest.
"I… forgot the way," I whispered. "I don't know how to go back. I'm sorry."
She grabbed my hand, pulling me forward, crying and calling for home.
The street was silent. Cold. Unfamiliar.
The lights were dim.
"Brother… where are we?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I don't know," I answered.
The night grew darker.
I tried to remember the path, but exhaustion clouded my mind.
Home was far away now.
There was nowhere left to go.
She looked at me through her tears.
"What will we do now…?"
For the first time… I felt completely helpless.
But I realized something.
We couldn't go back.
I took a deep breath and held her hand tightly.
"Don't be afraid… we'll stay together. We'll find our own way."
It was the beginning of a new life.
A life without a home.
Despite the fear… I felt something inside me.
Maybe courage is born in darkness.
With every step, I wondered:
Mother… Father… are you looking for us? Do you miss us?
At home, their mother cried without stopping.
"Where are they?!" she shouted.
There was no answer.
Their father tried to stay strong… but he was helpless.
He searched once. Then again.
He asked neighbors. Strangers. Anyone.
But there was no trace of them.
With every passing minute… hope faded.
Outside, in the cold and darkness, Kalin walked beside his sister.
And in silence, he made a promise to himself:
He would not lose hope—no matter how cruel the world became.