"The Gift of Time"

In the heart of a busy city, where the buildings reached high into the sky and the streets buzzed with cars and crowds, lived a little girl named Amaya. She was eight years old, curious and bright, but often alone. Her father, Mr. Ravi, was a successful businessman who always seemed to be in a hurry—on calls, in meetings, or rushing off to catch a flight. Her mother had passed away when Amaya was very young, and though her home was filled with toys, books, and beautiful clothes, it often felt empty.

Each evening, Amaya would wait on the living room couch, a storybook on her lap, hoping her father would come home early enough to read to her. But more often than not, the front door would stay closed until long after her bedtime.

One rainy Saturday morning, Amaya asked her father, “Papa, can we go to the park today?”

Mr. Ravi looked up from his laptop and smiled briefly. “Not today, sweetheart. I have a lot of work.”

“But you always have work,” Amaya whispered, looking out the window.

Her father didn’t notice. He was already back to typing.

That afternoon, Amaya wrote a letter. She folded it neatly, sealed it in an envelope, and placed it on her father's desk. The next morning, Mr. Ravi found it as he sipped his coffee. The handwriting was shaky but clear.

Dear Papa,

I don’t want a new doll or tablet or dress. I just want a day with you. Just you and me. No phone. No office. Just time. Because I miss you.

Love, Amaya.

Mr. Ravi stared at the letter for a long while. The words pierced through the wall he had built between his work and his daughter. He thought about how fast Amaya was growing up. How many stories he had missed. How many questions went unanswered. How many nights she fell asleep alone.

That day, Mr. Ravi canceled all his meetings. He closed his laptop, turned off his phone, and walked into Amaya’s room.

“Get your boots,” he said with a smile. “We’re going out.”

Amaya’s eyes lit up. “Really? Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want.”

They walked in the rain, jumping in puddles. They visited the little bookstore on the corner and picked out a fairy tale. They shared hot cocoa at a café. They sat in the park under a shelter and watched the raindrops dance on leaves.

That night, Mr. Ravi read Amaya the story she had picked. Her head rested on his shoulder, and for the first time in a long while, her heart felt full.

From then on, Mr. Ravi made one promise to himself: no matter how busy the world got, he would always make time for the things that truly mattered—because emails could wait, but childhood could not.

Years later, Amaya would grow up to be a thoughtful, kind young woman. When asked what made her childhood special, she would smile and say, “My father gave me everything I needed—but most of all, he gave me his time.”

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Moral:

The most valuable gift you can offer anyone is your time. Unlike money or material things, time cannot be earned back. Spend it on the people you love before the moment passes.