LuLu was a small boy with eyes too big for his face and a heart far too big for his body. He lived in a quiet house where the walls listened more than the people did. Every morning, he woke up before the sun, not because he had somewhere to go, but because his thoughts were loud and sleep never stayed long.
At school, LuLu sat near the window. He liked watching the clouds drift, pretending they were places where children didn’t feel forgotten. Other kids laughed loudly, traded snacks, and talked about homes filled with noise and warmth. LuLu smiled when he needed to, but his smile was something he borrowed, not something he owned.
No one knew how heavy his little chest felt when teachers raised their voices, or how his hands trembled when someone asked about his parents. He learned early that silence was safer than honesty. Silence never asked questions. Silence never left.
At home, LuLu took care of himself. He learned how to make simple meals, how to fold his clothes just right, how to cry without making a sound. He talked to his stuffed bear at night, whispering secrets into its worn fabric. The bear never interrupted. The bear never judged. It simply stayed.
Some nights, LuLu wondered if something was wrong with him. Maybe he was too quiet. Too sensitive. Too easy to forget. He pressed his hand against his chest and felt his heart beating, steady and stubborn, as if it refused to give up even when everything else seemed to.
One rainy afternoon, LuLu found a small injured bird near the school gate. Its wing was bent, its feathers soaked. Without thinking, he cupped it gently in his hands. For the first time, something needed him. He hid the bird in his jacket and took it home, nursing it with crumbs, water, and patience.
As days passed, the bird healed. It chirped softly, filling the quiet spaces of LuLu’s room. When it was time to let it go, LuLu cried, but he smiled too. He understood then that love could hurt and still be worth it.
Standing by the open window, LuLu released the bird into the sky. It flew away, free and strong. His heart ached, but it also felt lighter.
LuLu was still a poor little boy in many ways. Still quiet. Still tender. Still learning. But deep inside, he carried something powerful: the ability to love, even when his own heart was broken.
And one day, that would be enough.
