Fate Gave Me a Son… One Day I Gave a Homeless Boy a Chance — and Now He’s a University Student!
My life changed completely one cold autumn evening.
I was heading home after a long day of work. The wind was howling, cutting through to the bone. The city felt deserted — the few passersby hurried along, hiding their faces behind their coat collars.
As I turned onto my street, a thin figure suddenly stepped out from the shadows of a building.
A boy stood before me — skinny, wearing only a thin shirt, trembling as he clutched a knife in his hand. I couldn’t tell what made him shake more — the autumn cold or fear.
“Give me your wallet,” he rasped through clenched teeth.
I calmly pulled out my wallet and held it out to him. Then, a moment later, I took off my coat and offered that too.
He backed away, eyes wide with shock.
“Why are you doing this?”
I smiled.
“Because if you’re in this situation, you probably didn’t have any other choice.”
Suddenly, the boy burst into tears. Now that he stood under the streetlamp, I could see more clearly — he was just a child. No older than fifteen, though almost as tall as me.
I offered him a cup of hot tea and invited him to come up.
He hesitated, unsure if he could trust me. But in the end, he decided to take the chance.
I lived alone… but everything changed that night.
It was warm inside. I made some tea and sat him down at the table.
He looked around curiously. When his gaze landed on my bookshelf, he froze.
“You have a lot of books,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Have you read them all?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never read a book in my life,” he admitted without shame, only sadness in his voice.
Slowly, he opened up. He told me he came from a poor family. His mother had died when he was little. They wanted to put him in foster care, but he ran away.
He had been living on the streets ever since. He learned how to survive. He learned how to steal.
His father?
At that question, he just bowed his head and said nothing.
I looked at him and understood: just a child. Abandoned, unwanted. Life had given him no chance, but if no one reached out, he’d be lost.
“Stay with me — at least sleep in warmth tonight,” I suggested.
He looked at me with mistrust but eventually agreed.
I welcomed him as my own son.
That night, I barely slept. My mind was racing with thoughts: what will happen to him? Where will he go tomorrow?
But by morning, I was certain — I wouldn’t let him go.
“Do you want to start a new life?” I asked over breakfast.
He shrugged.
“I have nothing to lose anyway.”
And so he stayed with me.
I helped him get his documents in order, got him re-enrolled in school. It was tough at first — he hadn’t studied since fourth grade — but he tried. At first, the teachers doubted him, but after a few months, they saw his potential.
I shared everything I knew. Helped him with homework. Explained that stealing wasn’t the solution, and that with effort, he could achieve anything in life.
He was so hungry for knowledge! He read everything he could get his hands on. Sometimes, he would sit up late at night with his books.
I was proud of him.
Today, he’s a university student!
A few years passed.
Now Zoltán is in university. He studies, works, pays for his own education — he doesn’t want to be a burden.
I know a good life awaits him. He’ll find a job, start a family.
He’s no longer that trembling boy with a knife.
He’s my son.
No, I’m not listed on his official papers — but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that when he turns to me, he says:
“Dad…”
And that’s the most precious thing I have.