In the heart of a crowded city stood an old, crumbling house belonging to an elderly man named Jaya. Mr. Jaya was known as a quiet figure, always sitting alone in his old chair, staring out the window as if waiting for something. He was once a successful businessman who had everything—wealth, family, and fame. But everything changed after an incident that shattered his sanity.
Mr. Jaya lived under the shadow of guilt that weighed heavily on his heart. His life was empty and directionless. The once harmonious family had fallen apart; his wife and child left him, taking over the business he had built from the ground up. Normal life no longer resonated within him.
Every night, he woke in fear. The sound of unseen footsteps, doors creaking open by themselves, and a dark shadow that followed him everywhere robbed him of sleep. He believed the shadow was the embodiment of his unforgiven guilt.
Neighbors often saw Mr. Jaya by the window, gazing into the dark night. They had no idea what had happened in his past to turn him into the man he was. What was certain was that Mr. Jaya had become isolated, estranged from his family and friends.
He was no longer young, and illness had begun to take its toll, leaving him even more fragile. In his dark bedroom, Mr. Jaya woke up gasping for breath. His body was drenched in sweat despite the cold night air. The sound of rain pounding on the roof terrified him, and he sobbed quietly. Sitting at the edge of his bed, he stared at his trembling hands. In the emptiness of that night, someone knocked at his door.
Startled, Mr. Jaya slowly opened the door. Standing there was a young man—Serafim—his face radiating warmth.
"Mr. Jaya, may I come in?" Serafim asked gently.
"Who are you?" Mr. Jaya asked.
The young man smiled, almost hypnotically. Without thinking, Mr. Jaya nodded. Serafim sat in the chair beside Mr. Jaya's bed and began to speak with great care.
"Why have you chosen to live alone, Mr. Jaya?" Serafim asked, his eyes sharp yet filled with understanding. "You seem burdened. What weighs on you?"
Mr. Jaya remained silent. He was reluctant to share his story. But when he looked into Serafim's eyes, something in them softened him entirely. He began to speak.
—
That night, Mr. Jaya had been driving alone through a heavy downpour that made the roads slick and obscured his vision. Only the car's headlights could pierce the sheets of rain. Suddenly, the steering wheel shook violently and the tires skidded.
"Oh God!"
The car veered left, crashing into a bridge railing with a loud crack. Mr. Jaya gripped the wheel tightly as the car stopped with half its body hanging off the edge.
Below, the roar of the river threatened to consume anything that fell. Mr. Jaya trembled, his body frozen, breath shallow. He tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge. Death felt close.
Then, through the despair, footsteps approached. A young man ran toward him through the rain, his face blurred by the downpour, but his voice was clear.
"Sir, hang on! I'm coming to help!"
Mr. Jaya looked at the young man with desperation, eyes full of hope. The young man grabbed the door and struggled to pull Mr. Jaya out. Everything was slippery, but he didn't give up.
When Mr. Jaya finally escaped and collapsed at the bridge's edge, the young man slipped. His hand caught on the car's edge as it started to shift.
"Sir, help!"
Mr. Jaya grabbed his hand, trying to pull him up.
"Hold on tight!" his voice shook with fear.
But their grip loosened—rain making everything impossible.
"Sir, I... I'm scared..." the young man cried, tears blending with the rain.
"Hold on! I'll—"
Before he could finish, their hands slipped apart. Mr. Jaya watched in disbelief as the young man's body fell into the river.
"NO!" he screamed, his voice drowned by the raging water.
He sat in the rain, soaked and shivering, staring at the black river, hoping to see a sign of the young man. Soon after, his car also slipped and plunged into the river. The current swallowed everything.
Panicked and confused, he thought:
"If I report this, what will they say? The police will blame me. Why am I alive while he's gone?"
Using what little strength he had, he walked away from the bridge. The rain kept pouring, as if trying to wash away his sin. At home, he changed clothes, sat on the sofa, and stared at the floor.
"Nothing happened. I'll report the car as stolen," he muttered repeatedly, trying to convince himself.
Days later, the police came to inform Mr. Jaya that his car had been found in the river, with a man's body at the site. They claimed the car had been stolen, and the thief had fallen into the river. Mr. Jaya closed the case quietly.
The story made headlines, shown on TV and in newspapers. The young man's face appeared everywhere. Mr. Jaya saw the boy's family crying on the screen. "My son was not a thief!" his mother screamed.
Mr. Jaya turned off the TV, hands trembling. He wanted to scream the truth. But fear always won. Fear of punishment. Fear of hatred.
—
Serafim listened intently as Mr. Jaya recounted the story—the accident, the death of the young man trying to save him, and the burden he had carried for years.
"Every night I'm haunted… His face, the rain, his hand in mine… I want to forget, but I can't," Mr. Jaya said with a trembling voice.
"It was my fault. I caused all of it," he added.
Serafim looked at him with compassion and smiled softly.
"If you feel guilty, you must let that feeling go."
"Then… what should I do?" Mr. Jaya asked.
"Find his family and tell them the truth. They deserve to know what really happened."
Mr. Jaya shook his head, his body trembling.
"No… no! What if they hate me? What if…"
"Sir…" Serafim's voice was still gentle, but firm.
"You can't keep running from this. You're not the only one who's hurt. They lost their son and live with questions unanswered. Don't let them suffer in ignorance, the same way you've suffered in guilt."
Mr. Jaya was silent. Serafim's words struck his heart. He closed his eyes, and in that darkness, he saw the young man's face again—hopeful, pleading.
Serafim spoke once more.
"Your body is weakening, Mr. Jaya. Your time is short. Go before it's too late. You deserve peace… and they deserve the truth."
Mr. Jaya opened his eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks. He hadn't felt even a sliver of relief in years—until now.
A few days later, Mr. Jaya visited the young man's house. His legs trembled, but he knew it was time to face the truth he had avoided for too long.
A middle-aged woman opened the door. Her face showed pain and sorrow, yet also understanding. Mr. Jaya could feel the weight of her life.
"Excuse me…" Mr. Jaya began, his voice hesitant. "I'm Jaya. I came here to tell you… what really happened to your son."
The woman looked at him without surprise. "What do you mean?"
Mr. Jaya swallowed hard, barely able to speak. "I… was there… the night your son fell into the river."
He carefully and gently explained everything. He chose his words with care and spoke with a calm tone.
The woman sighed, holding back tears.
"So… my son wasn't a thief?" she said. "He was… a hero…"
Mr. Jaya nodded, tears streaming down his face.
"I'm so sorry… I'm a coward… I couldn't save him…"
The woman smiled, her tears finally falling.
"Even if this hadn't happened, I would've still lost him."
"What do you mean?" Mr. Jaya asked, confused.
"My son had terminal cancer. The doctors said he didn't have long. I didn't stop him from doing what he loved, including helping others. I've forgiven you, Mr. Jaya. My son is at peace now. And I will be too, knowing he didn't do anything wrong."
After that meeting, Mr. Jaya walked home with lighter steps. The guilt remained, but he had done the right thing. He had given the young man's family the truth they had long sought.
At home, he lay in bed, his body weak. For the first time in years, he slept peacefully.
A white light approached him, and he saw the bridge again. The rain had stopped. The river was calm, reflecting a golden glow. At the end of the bridge stood the young man, smiling. Yes, the one who had saved him that night. He walked toward Jaya.
"It's over now. Thank you for telling the truth." he said gently, peacefully.
Mr. Jaya smiled faintly. His body moved slowly toward the young man. As he approached, a door of light opened behind the youth, radiating a warm, comforting glow. He felt light, freed from the burden that had chained him. Without hesitation, he followed the young man into the light.
Before stepping through, Mr. Jaya turned back. At the edge of the light stood an angel with wide wings—Serafim. He smiled lovingly and nodded at Jaya. All fear and regret vanished, replaced by overwhelming peace.
With one final step, Mr. Jaya entered the light, leaving the world with a peaceful heart, heading toward eternal peace.
***