The Hiding Angel

The little boy’s innocent face, his tiny hands covering his eyes—it seemed as if he wanted to hide from the entire world. His name was Ayan. Only five years old, yet his eyes carried a sadness that even grown-ups could not bear.

Ayan lived with his mother in a small house. His father had been away in another city for months and hadn’t returned. His mother worked day and night, but poverty never left their doorstep.

Every night Ayan would ask:

“Mom, when will Dad come home?”

His mother would smile and stroke his hair:

“Soon, my son, very soon.”

But Ayan knew that “soon” often meant never.

His games were different from other children. While they laughed and hid behind trees and walls, Ayan would quietly sit in a corner, covering his eyes with his hands. It was as if he wanted to tell the world, “Don’t look at me, I don’t exist.”

One day the children were playing hide and seek. Ayan sat in a corner, hands over his eyes, whispering:

“I’m hidden now. No one will find me.”

A little girl, Ayesha, walked over and laughed:

“Ayan, is this how you hide? We all run far away.”

From behind his hands, Ayan replied:

“When I close my eyes, the world cannot see me. This is the easiest way to hide.”

His innocent words stayed in her heart.

Time passed. Ayan’s mother grew weaker. Hard work had broken her health. She often coughed through the night until she fell asleep beside Ayan. He would sit beside her, give her water, and whisper prayers:

“Dear God, please heal my mom. I’ll take care of her when I grow up.”

At school, the teacher once asked the children:

“Tomorrow, bring the most precious thing you own.”

Children were excited. Some planned to bring toys, others books, or a watch. But Ayan had nothing. That night, while his mother was asleep, he went to the corner of his room and pulled out an old cloth. He called it his “Blanket of Peace.” It was the same blanket his mother had wrapped him in when he was a baby. For him, it was the most precious thing in the world.

The next day, when Ayan showed the blanket in class, some children laughed. The teacher asked gently:

“Son, why is this so precious to you?”

With his soft voice, Ayan said:

“Because it has my mother’s scent. When she’s sick, I hold it close while I sleep. Then it feels like she’s right beside me.”

Silence filled the room. The teacher’s eyes grew moist, and the children realized for the first time that real treasures are not toys or jewels, but the love tied to our hearts.

After that day, the children never left Ayan out. They always included him in their games. Yet sometimes, Ayan would still cover his eyes with his hands. When asked why, he would smile and say:

“I’m searching for light inside my heart. The outside world is too dark.”

As years passed, everyone remembered his innocent way of hiding. Whenever someone felt sad, Ayan would say:

“Close your eyes, cover them with your hands. Look inside your heart. You’ll always find hope there.”

His mother slowly recovered, and the neighbors began to care for them too. Everyone believed it was the prayers of the little “Hiding Angel” that had brought blessings into their lives.

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Moral of the story:

Children teach us through their innocent ways that life may be difficult, but hope never dies. Ayan showed us that sometimes, hiding isn’t about running away from the world—it’s about finding peace within our own hearts.