The next morning, Ayaan woke up with a heavy head but a lighter heart. The night had brought clarity. If no one would help him, he would help himself.
He looked at his worn-out shoes, the small bag in his hand, and the empty stomach that still gnawed at him. But hunger no longer felt like a weakness—it was fuel.
He started walking. Not to school. Not to the shop. Anywhere but waiting. He wandered through the crowded streets, eyes sharp, noticing everything people ignored: old newspapers, discarded bottles, half-eaten food. Everything had value if you knew where to look.
Ayaan spotted a group of boys kicking a football. Their laughter rang in the air, careless and bright. He wanted to join, but the words from yesterday still stung. "Why do you even come here?"
Instead, he crouched near the edge of the street and watched. He saw patterns, small opportunities. One shopkeeper dropped a coin while talking to a customer. Ayaan snatched it before anyone noticed. A small victory—but a victory nonetheless.
Hours passed. He moved from street to street, discovering corners and alleys where the world's leftovers could become his lifeline. At first, it was shameful, scavenging and dodging strangers' eyes. But pride grew with each coin, each small gain.
As the sun began to set, Ayaan found himself in front of a small bookstore. Its door was cracked, the inside dim, but he noticed a "Help Wanted" sign taped to the glass. His heart raced. Could he—should he—try?
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The smell of old paper and ink wrapped around him like a memory. A man behind the counter looked up, startled.
"Yes?" the man asked.
"I—I can work," Ayaan said, his voice steady despite the nerves.
The man studied him. Ayaan's clothes were torn, his face smeared with the city's dust. But his eyes were sharp, alert, hungry.
"Hmm," the man said slowly. "Maybe. Can you start now?"
Ayaan nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. This was the first step. The first move in a world that had always ignored him.
He picked up a broom, swept the floor, arranged books—each small task felt monumental. But then, just as the night grew darker, the man leaned close and whispered, almost in a warning, "Be careful, boy. Not everyone who ignores you will wait to see your success. Some… will try to stop it."
Ayaan froze. The words lingered in the dim light. Outside, the streets were empty. But somewhere in the shadows, he felt eyes watching.
And for the first time, he realized—being ignored wasn't the only danger.