The wooden house seemed to hold its breath.

For years, no one had lived there; the walls crumbled like a worn-out memory, and the broken windows let in the howling wind that blasted through the empty rooms. The villagers said the place was cursed, that it brought no one luck. No one ever went near it.

Yet, amidst this silence and dust, someone still breathed.

A little boy.

Cairo.

He was only three years old, but slept like an old man wounded by life. His frail body was curled up on the icy floor, dressed in a simple, oversized gray t-shirt and threadbare shorts. His feet were bare, dirty, and cracked. He held only a dented old tin can in his arms, as if it were a precious treasure, the last vestige of a vanished world.

Each breath was short, shallow, as if his small chest didn’t dare rise too forcefully for fear of breaking the oppressive silence around him. He hadn’t eaten in a long time. He hadn’t spoken in even longer.

And he had no one left.

I — The Night That Destroyed Everything

Cairo hadn’t always lived in this house.
He used to live in the small white house next door, the one whose charred walls he could still see from the broken window of his new shelter. That was where it had all begun… and where it had all ended.

That night, the rain fell violently on the rooftops like a shower of stones.

He could still see it all.
His mother called to him, shouting:

“Cairo! My baby, come here!”

She smiled, but it was a trembling smile, a smile constructed to hide fear. The little boy clutched his metal spoon, his favorite toy, and looked at it, frowning, too young to understand what was happening.

In the kitchen, a strange orange light danced against the wall.

At first, it was just a reflection.

Then a flame.

Then a living creature that climbed and devoured everything.

“Stay close to me, okay?” his mother said, placing her hot hands on his shoulders.

He nodded, but he didn’t understand.
His father, meanwhile, was busy dragging boxes toward the front door. Black smoke was already creeping under the furniture, thickening, invading every corner.

And suddenly, the house exploded with a monstrous crackling sound.

A beam snapped with a terrifying rumble. Cairo’s mother didn’t hesitate: she grabbed her son and, in a desperate gesture, shoved him toward the back door.

He fell into the mud.

The impact was brutal, cold, and wet.

He sat up, crying, searching for his mother.

She was no longer behind him.
His father tried to pull her out, shouting her name, but the ceiling collapsed like a final clap of thunder.

After a scream…
silence.

The kind of silence that never truly leaves a child.

Cairo lay there in the rain, petrified, unable to understand, unable to get up. Then his little legs unconsciously carried him away from the blaze, before bringing him back, hours later, to the only house still standing.

The house his parents had forbidden him to approach.

He had nothing else.

So he went inside.

II — Weeks of Solitude

From that day on, he had survived like a shadow.

He no longer knew how much time had passed: days, weeks… perhaps months. Adults often talked about time. Not him. Time hurt too much.

He ate the scraps he found along the road: bits of stale bread, crumbs, abandoned boxes. Sometimes, he would bang a box against the ground to check if it still contained anything. The metallic sound reassured him.

Or frightened him.

Both.

He had lost the ability to speak. Every time he tried to utter a word, a terrible pain gripped his throat. As if speaking could bring back the fire.

Every night, he woke with a start at the slightest noise.

He lived huddled in a dark corner of the house, waiting…
Always waiting.

Waiting for whom?
His mother.
His father. A voice.

A miracle.

Nothing was happening.

Until that day.

III — The Arrival of the New Neighbors

The roar of an engine jolted Cairo awake.

A truck.

A noise far too loud, too close.

He flinched, his heart pounding in his small chest. The loud noises meant: danger, fire, death.

He shuffled to the darkest corner of the room, clutching his tin can to his chest like a shield.

Outside, a new family was moving into the house next door.
A couple, Nora and Malik, and their seven-year-old daughter, Alani.

The little girl was playing in the garden, throwing stones in the dust. She stopped suddenly:

“Mom… did you hear that?”

“Heard what, darling?” asked Nora, stacking boxes.

— “It looks like… someone’s crying. Or asleep.”

Malik burst out laughing.

— “Nobody lives there.”

“This house is going to fall apart soon!”

But Alani narrowed her eyes toward the shattered windows.

She was certain.

Something had moved.

The next day, the same feeling drew her back to the old house. She pressed her face against a cracked pane… and her heart stopped.

A child.

A real one.

“Mommy! Mommy, come quickly!”

Nora ran over, thinking it was an injury.

But when she looked through the window, she froze.

On the dusty floor lay a small, frail, dirty, curled-up body. Beside it were crumbs and empty boxes.

“Oh my God…” she whispered. “Malik! Call someone!”

But she didn’t wait for anyone. Fear and compassion drove her to act immediately. She pushed open the wooden door. It creaked under her weight.

A cold breath hit her as she entered.

And then she truly saw him.

A child too small, too thin.

A child who seemed made of silence and fear.

“My love…” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

IV – The First Encounter

The creaking of the floor woke Cairo.
His dark eyes snapped open.
He stumbled backward, hitting a wall. The can rolled across the floor with a metallic clang.

He raised his hands in front of his face as if to protect himself.

Nora immediately fell to her knees.

“Shh… no, baby, I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

But Cairo was trembling.

He seemed ready to run away, or to disappear.

Alani approached timidly, a piece of bread in her hand.

“Mom… let me try.” “

Nora hesitated, then nodded.

The little girl also knelt down, keeping a respectful distance, and held out the bread like an offering.

“Hi… are you hungry? This is for you, if you want it.”

Cairo looked at the bread. His stomach rumbled so loudly that even Malik could hear it from the doorway. But he didn’t go near the bread. Not yet.

He looked for his box.
Always his box.

He picked it up, clutched it to his chest…
Then he crawled forward, slowly, like a wounded cat.

He snatched the bread with a swift movement and pressed it warily against his chest.

He didn’t eat it right away.

He sniffed it, studied it, as if he had never seen fresh bread before.

Finally, he took a tiny bite.

Nora brought a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. Malik looked away, his eyes moist.

V — A tiny touch, but immense

Nora placed her hand flat on the ground, without approaching.

“You’re safe, my angel. No one here wants to hurt you.”

Cairo watched her hand.
Then, with infinite timidity, he placed his small palm next to hers.
Not against it.
Just close.
Close enough to say: I’m scared, but I’m trying.

Alani whispered:

“It’s cold… Mom, we can’t leave him here.”

Malik replied, his voice deep:

“We have to call social services. It’s the law. But first… we’re helping him.”

So they sat down in front of the house with him.
Not too close. Not too far.

Nora gave him some water.

Alani showed him her favorite drawing.

Malik placed a blanket within his reach.

And little by little, Cairo’s trembling lessened.

VI — The First Step Toward a New World

As the sun began to set, Cairo finally stood up.

His legs were unsteady, but he was standing.

Then he gently tugged on Alani’s sleeve.

Such a small gesture… yet so immense.

“Do you want to come?” the little girl asked, smiling.

He didn’t answer.
He hadn’t yet regained his voice.

But he didn’t let go of her sleeve.

So they went home together.

VII — The Return of Warmth

The neighbors’ house was paradise for him.
Warm light.
The smell of soup.
Soft laughter.

Nora gently washed his hair, without a single sudden movement. Malik handed him a spoon, never once becoming impatient.

Cairo sipped his soup in small, trembling sips.

When he dropped the spoon, Malik picked it up with a smile:

“It’s nothing, little one. Try again.”

Trust was growing. Slowly.

Fragilely.

That night, Nora set up a small bed next to Alani’s.

“You can sleep here, my darling. Just for tonight, okay?”

Cairo looked at the bed as if he had never seen such a soft place.

He lay down slowly, placed his can of food next to the pillow… as if to bring together the old world and the new.

Alani whispered to him:

“Good night, little boy.”

He raised his hand… and gently placed his fingertips on Alani’s.

A simple touch. A miracle in the making.

A few minutes later, he was fast asleep.

For the first time in a very long time…
without fear.

without cold.

without loneliness.

Nora pulled a blanket over him, her eyes filled with tears.

“We’ll protect him, won’t we, Mommy?” Alani whispered.

Nora kissed her daughter on the forehead.

“Yes, my love. From today on… he’ll never be alone again.”