Maven's life had taken a drastic turn since his parents' divorce. He had chosen to live with his father, Mr. Roland, while his mother moved to another country. For a time, things seemed manageable, until fate dealt them another cruel blow. A strange illness struck Mr. Roland, leaving him weak and frail, unable to provide for the family.
School soon became impossible for Maven. His mornings were spent fetching water, cooking meals, and tending to his father's needs. His evenings were filled with worry—how long could they survive like this? Eventually, he made the decision no boy his age should ever have to make: to quit school and find work.
One afternoon, Maven walked to the home of Uncle Mark, an elderly family friend and respected mason. He found him seated at his workbench, chisel in hand, shaping stone.
"Good afternoon, Uncle Mark," Maven greeted, forcing a hopeful smile.
Uncle Mark looked up, concern etching his weathered face.
"Maven! You're not in school today?"
Maven hesitated before answering. His throat tightened, but the words came out.
"No, Uncle. Dad's condition… it's getting worse. I need to find a way to take care of him. I came to ask if you could take me on as a laborer."
Uncle Mark studied him quietly for a moment, then sighed.
"Hmm. It's not easy work, son. But I'll speak to my men. Go home for now—I'll let you know after work."
Relieved, Maven thanked him and left. He carried a spark of hope in his heart, though he did not know Uncle Mark, in the rush of the evening, would forget to mention anything to his masons.
That night, while walking through town, Uncle Mark happened to spot Maven laughing with friends. Their earlier conversation flashed in his mind, and guilt tugged at him. Pulling out his phone, he quickly called the head mason, then dialed Maven's number.
"Maven, it's Uncle Mark," he said warmly. "You can start work tomorrow. Be at the site first thing in the morning."
Maven's face lit up with a smile that refused to fade. For the first time in weeks, he felt as if tomorrow truly held something new.
The next morning, Maven carefully chose his work clothes, hugged his father goodbye, and set off for the construction site. Dust filled the air, and the clang of tools rang loudly, but Maven carried himself with pride. He greeted the other workers with a cheerful smile, and before long, his lighthearted nature won them over.
Assigned to carry blocks to the third floor, he threw himself into the task with determination. His arms ached, his back strained, but he refused to give up. Hours passed quickly, and soon the foreman's whistle blew—it was five o'clock, the end of his first day.
As Uncle Mark handed out wages, Maven waited patiently. But his name wasn't called. Confusion gripped him until Uncle Mark beckoned him over to his car.
"Here's your payment, Maven," Uncle Mark said, smiling.
Maven counted the money and froze—there was an extra twenty percent.
"Uncle Mark, you've paid me extra!" he exclaimed.
Uncle Mark chuckled.
"Consider it a welcome gift. You did well today. Greet your father for me, and get some rest. Tomorrow will be harder."
Gratitude welled in Maven's heart. He waved goodbye and started home, already dreaming of the future.
But fate had another twist waiting.
On his way back, he noticed two thugs cornering an old man, rough hands clawing at the man's pockets. Maven's chest tightened, but courage pushed him forward.
"Hey! Leave him alone!" he shouted.
One thug sneered. "Mind your business, boy. Who are you?"
Maven stood his ground.
"It doesn't matter who I am. I said, let him go!"
The thugs lunged. Maven braced himself—only for one of them to be struck from behind with a heavy piece of firewood. With a cry, the thug collapsed, and the others bolted into the night.
Breathing hard, Maven rushed to the old man's side.
"Are you alright, sir?"
The man, trembling but relieved, whispered, "Thank you… thank you, young man."
Maven smiled faintly. "Don't mention it. Where are you headed?"
"From the nearby village," the old man replied.
"Not far," Maven nodded. "I'll walk you home."
At the village edge, the man—who introduced himself as Shem—gripped Maven's hands with gratitude.
"You're a lifesaver, young man. Come visit me sometime. My door is always open."
Maven jogged back toward town, his thoughts heavy yet hopeful. He still had groceries to buy, dinner to cook, and a father waiting at home. But deep inside, he sensed something had shifted—that his life's path was no longer ordinary.