When a driven, workaholic businessman receives life-changing news about his health, he meets a spirited young boy in the hospital who alters his perspective. Through an unlikely friendship and acts of kindness, the man learns what truly matters—until an unexpected twist shifts everything.
Andrew, 50, sat at his desk, buried under a pile of paperwork, his phone ringing incessantly as he juggled meeting requests from his partners.
Michael, his assistant, entered the room quietly, standing there for a moment before clearing his throat.
Andrew didn’t notice. Michael tried again. “Mr. Smith.” Still no response. “Mr. Smith,” he repeated several times.
Finally, Andrew slammed a file shut, his face flushed. “What?” he barked.
Unfazed, Michael replied, “You told me to inform you if your ex-wife called.”
Andrew groaned, massaging his temples. “For the hundredth time, ignore her calls. What does she want now?”
Michael consulted his notepad. “Her exact words, sir: ‘You self-absorbed idiot, you wasted years of my life. If you don’t return my painting, I’ll take it out on your car.’”
Andrew’s face turned crimson. “Two years divorced, and she still can’t move on!”
Michael stood still, awaiting further instructions. “Do you want me to respond?”
Andrew gritted his teeth. “No. And stop answering her calls!” He paused, then added with a smirk, “Actually, tell her I threw that painting away.”
Michael raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He simply nodded and left the room as Andrew hurled a pen at the wall in frustration.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He answered brusquely.
“Andrew Smith?” asked a voice on the other end.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“This is the hospital. Your test results are ready. The doctor would like to discuss them with you in person.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew demanded. “I’m busy.”
“I’m sorry, sir. The doctor prefers to go over it with you directly.”
Andrew sighed, exasperated. “Fine. I’ll come by.” He hung up and shook his head, muttering under his breath.
The doctor’s office was eerily quiet. Andrew sat stiffly in the chair, the clock ticking loudly on the wall. When the doctor entered, his serious expression sent a chill down Andrew’s spine.
The conversation was clinical, filled with medical jargon Andrew barely understood—until the word hit him like a brick: cancer.
“We need to begin treatment immediately,” the doctor explained.
Andrew scoffed. “You expect me to drop everything? I run a company.”
The doctor’s calm gaze met his. “Your health must come first. Your work can wait.”
Andrew frowned, pressing, “What are my odds?”
The doctor hesitated. “We can’t guarantee anything. Starting treatment now is crucial.”
Andrew sighed deeply. “Can I still work?”
“Some people manage, but the effects vary. We’ll monitor you closely during your stay.”
Reluctantly, Andrew nodded and left.
Walking through the pediatric wing, Andrew noticed a boy tossing a ball with a nurse. The boy’s laughter filled the hallway, but the ball rolled toward Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir! Can you throw it back?” the boy asked cheerfully.
Andrew picked up the ball with a scowl and threw it hard, far down the hall, then walked away without a word.
“That was mean, mister!” the boy shouted after him.
Days passed. The hospital felt suffocating. Andrew tried working from his laptop, but the chemotherapy left him drained, nauseous, and irritable.
One afternoon, as he sat slumped in his chair, a familiar small voice startled him. “Hi!”
It was the boy from the corridor. Andrew flinched, his irritation flaring. “What do you want, kid?”
“I’m bored,” the boy replied. “Nobody here wants to play.”
Andrew sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Tommy!” the boy chirped.
“Well, Tommy, I’m busy. Go find someone else.”
Tommy didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled out a peppermint candy and handed it to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated before snatching the candy and setting it aside.
“You’re grumpy!” Tommy laughed. “I’ll call you Mr. Grouch.”
Andrew groaned. “What do you want?”
Tommy’s grin widened. “I want to buy flowers for my mom. But I don’t have any money.”
Andrew reached for his wallet and handed over some bills. “Here. Now go.”
Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grouch!” He darted away.
Later, a nurse delivered a small bag to Andrew. “Tommy sent this,” she said.
Inside were peppermint candies. Andrew couldn’t help but smile faintly.
Over time, Tommy became a regular visitor. Despite his initial resistance, Andrew found himself looking forward to the boy’s energy and positivity. Together, they watched sunsets, played pranks on nurses, and even raced wheelchairs.
Tommy never spoke about his illness, but one day, he mentioned his mom’s struggles. Andrew discreetly gave him an envelope of cash. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When the doctor announced Andrew was cancer-free, he rushed to share the news with Tommy—only to find the boy unconscious, his mother sobbing at his bedside.
“He wanted to be strong for you,” she said through tears.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully.
Grieving yet inspired, Andrew founded an organization in Tommy’s memory to support sick children. He also stayed close to Tommy’s mom, helping her rebuild.
One day, Andrew delivered the painting his ex-wife demanded. She looked at him, puzzled.
“I’m keeping my superpowers,” he said, smiling faintly, then walked away, leaving her stunned.
