12-year-old David was excited to buy new sneakers after saving up for months but decided to buy boots for his classmate whose shoes were tattered. Little did he know that his kindness would be rewarded in an unexpected way.
David always found himself a window seat on the school bus back home. As always, he opened the window wide and let the afternoon breeze brush across his face as he recollected the game he played that day, moment by moment.
“That was unbelievable, what you did on the field today!” one of his mates had said.
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“I think we’ve got a national-level player on our hands, guys. Get your autographs while you can!” another player teased David, patting his back almost a bit too hard.
That was the distant dream — playing for his country and creating history, like all his soccer heroes.
David could almost taste it; the sweet air of victory and pride when his team and he held the golden championship trophy and smiled for the photographs.
David would constantly rehearse what he would say for the cameras and the papers at the end of the match. How he rose from humble beginnings. And how he owed his mother everything he had become.
“Excuse me, may I sit here?”
David was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t realize one of his classmates had asked permission to sit next to him.
The boy sat down next to David, hugged his backpack, and started dreaming his own dream. ‘I want to become the best soccer player in the school. Just like David. I can’t believe I’m sitting next to him!’
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The boy was a true fan of David’s game and wouldn’t miss a chance to watch him play. In his mind, David was everything he wanted to be. He wanted to play like him, have tons of friends like him, and even wear those fancy soccer shoes David was wearing.
‘These old tattered shoes should do…for now,’ the boy thought, hiding his feet under the seat out of embarrassment.
Guillermo was always shy and found it challenging to make friends. One day, the boy finally found the courage to talk to his hero.
“Hi, David! I’m Guillermo. I’m your biggest fan!”
“Oh? Hi, Guillermo! Thank you.”
There was an awkward silence as David went back to daydreaming.
“I…really like your shoes!” Guillermo blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
“These? These are really old, and the soles have already started to come off. You should see the new shoes I’ll be getting…” David’s eyes lit up, thinking about the dreamy pair of sneakers he had been saving up for.
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“Tell me more about them!” Guillermo said, slowly tucking his feet under the seat. He didn’t want David to see how ugly and tattered his own shoes were.
“Well, they’re perfect! They’re neon orange, and they’ve got unbeatable grip…”
It had been seven months since David had been raising money to buy the pair of sneakers he wanted. This was the first time the 12-year-old wanted to buy something for himself. And he wanted to do it without burdening his mother. He knew how hard his mother worked, struggling to provide for him and his two younger twin sisters.
“Mom, you don’t need to contribute. Tracy and Katie have their birthdays coming up soon, and you need to save up to throw a tea party, remember?”
David saved up enough money. He did it with the help of a short paper route every morning and the savings from the lemonade stand he had put up the last vacation. Until one day, his piggy bank was full, and he finally had enough to bring his dream shoes home.
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On the bus ride home from school that day, he couldn’t stop talking about it with Guillermo.
“Guillermo! I did it! I’m going straight to the store after homework this evening and buying the best sneakers in town. In fact, I’ll come and pick you up, and you can accompany me to the shop. It’s going to be the best feeling ever!”
Guillermo felt genuine happiness for his idol. That’s when the bus suddenly jolted over a pothole, and one of Guillermo’s shoes fell off onto the bus floor.
David was taken aback at the sight of the worn-out, blackened shoe. It was a pair of thin, low-quality summer shoes that had seen too many seasons. There were holes in the sole, the canvas was coming apart, and there was no sign of a lace.
Guillermo let the other shoe fall, giving in to the feeling of shame.
David had tears in his eyes when he looked at his friend, hiding his face in his palms, sobbing quietly but uncontrollably. The two boys didn’t know what to say to each other for the rest of the ride.
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“Be ready by 5 o’clock!” David finally reminded Guillermo of the evening’s plan to visit the store. There was no way David was going to the store alone. Not after what he had seen.
“Ah, David! Here to pick up your new pair of soccer shoes? I’ve got them packed and ready right here.”
“Hold on, sir. Could you show me a pair of those in a smaller size?” David said, pointing at a pair of comfortable boots.
Always help the needy whenever you can.
The shop owner, Mr. Manning, was confused. “But the ones I packed are your exact size, Dave.”
“Not for me, for my friend here,” Dave replied.
Guillermo couldn’t believe what he had heard. He couldn’t possibly let David do that.
“No, David, I don’t need—”
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David squeezed Guillermo’s hand and blinked softly to quiet him. “I’ve got this, Guillermo. You’re always calling me your hero. Let me try and be one for you.”
Mr. Manning heard this exchange between the boys and felt a warmth of love and affection rise in his chest. He knew exactly what to do.
“Woah, this one looks great on you, friend. And it’s the absolute best we’ve got in this store.”
David was finally satisfied with the pair of boots he had bought for his friend. Guillermo’s shame had turned to overwhelm, gratitude, and pure joy over his unexpected gift.
As the boys left the store and cycled away, Mr. Manning signaled his staff. “Listen, there’s something we need to do right away…”
“David! There’s someone at the door for you! He arrived with an entire truck, actually.” David’s mother couldn’t make heads or tails of the strange visitor, either.
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David rushed to the door and found a familiar face. It was Mr. Manning, the shoe store owner. “I heard you talking to your friend at the store, Dave. I know what you did.”
David’s mother leaned in with a crease of suspicion sitting on her brow.
“I know how much you wanted those spiked sneakers, and I’ve seen you selling lemonade and delivering newspapers. And today, I saw you let all that desire go, just so you could help a friend who was in deeper need than you were.”
David lowered his head out of shyness, catching a glimpse of the proud look on his mother’s face from the corner of his eye.
“And I think this kind of kindness and friendship ought to be celebrated in this day and age. So come on! Get on the back of this truck and pick up as many pairs of shoes as you’d like. For you, your mother, and the twins… Don’t worry about the money; this is all on me.”
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David hesitated, looking to his mother for approval. As soon as she nodded, he dashed towards the truck with eyes shining in excitement.
“Hurry, we’ve still got to get to your friend’s house. There are free shoes for him and his family, too!”
What do we learn from this story?
Always help the needy whenever you can. Although David worked hard to buy new sneakers, he used the money to help Guillermo, who was wearing torn shoes.
An act of kindness can be infectious. The shoe store owner noticed David’s kindness. He was inspired by the boy’s actions and decided to help his and his friend’s family.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a boy who received his favorite sneakers from the thrift shop as a gift on his birthday. He noticed an inscription on it and was shocked to learn about its previous owner.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
I Asked to Be Cut from My Parents’ Will after Overhearing My Brothers’ Conversation
When Elena’s parents decided to leave her the family home, she expected her brothers to share in the joy. Instead, their hidden resentment leads to a revelation that changes everything. Will her decision to reject her inheritance heal old wounds or create new ones?
A mother playing with her little girl in bed | Source: Pexels
Growing up as the youngest and the only daughter in a tight-knit family had its perks and its challenges. But mostly, I felt cherished, surrounded by my parents and two protective older brothers, Kyle and Dean.
A big brother hugging his little sister | Source: Unsplash
It was the kind of childhood you’d think was straight out of a feel-good movie—complete with raucous holiday gatherings, summer barbecues in our backyard, and the kind of parents who never missed a school play or a soccer game.
Children playing with bubbles outdoors | Source: Unsplash
Last weekend was no different in its familial warmth, or so I thought as we gathered around the dining table, the familiar scents of mom’s cooking mingling with the soft murmur of catch-up conversations.
A close-up photo of family members toasting at dinner | Source: Pexels
Our parents, though noticeably grayer and more deliberate in their movements, were as spirited as ever, their eyes twinkling with a kind of excitement you’d associate with kids planning a secret clubhouse meeting.
An elderly couple spending time with each other | Source: Pexels
As we settled into the comfortable rhythm of passing dishes and sharing updates, Mom and Dad exchanged a glance—a silent nod that seemed to signal it was time for the ‘main event’ of the evening.
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Clearing his throat, Dad announced, “We’ve been thinking a lot about the future, especially about this house, which has been a home to so many memories for us.”
An elderly man speaking to his family members at the table | Source: Shutterstock
Mom took over with a voice both soft and resolute, “We’ve decided that we want Elena to have the house in our will.”
The words landed on the table with a weight I hadn’t anticipated, stirring a mixture of surprise and gratitude in me. “Really?” was all I managed, my voice a mix of shock and a burgeoning sense of responsibility.
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That’s when I noticed it—the poker faces on Kyle and Dean. As our parents continued discussing the details, my brothers clapped mechanically, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes.
Something in their expressions hinted at a private joke or a shared concern, hidden just beneath the surface of their orchestrated calm.
Family members dining outdoors | Source: Pexels
Trying to shake off a growing unease, I nodded and thanked my parents, though the look in my brothers’ eyes—hinting at something hidden—stayed with me.
After everyone had said their goodnights and the house quieted down, the small twinge of unease I felt earlier began to settle into the pit of my stomach.
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I chalked it up to the big announcement and tried to focus on the comforting familiarity of my childhood home. Since Mom wasn’t feeling well and had asked me to stay the night, I settled into my old room, the walls lined with memories of a more carefree time.
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It must have been past midnight when I tiptoed downstairs, the floorboards creaking softly underfoot. I just needed a glass of water to calm an inexplicable restlessness that had me tossing and turning.
But as I neared the kitchen, the low murmur of voices halted me mid-step. It was Kyle and Dean, their words floating out to me, clear in the stillness of the night.
A woman sitting on a sofa while holding a glass of water | Source: Pexels
“Our sweet baby Elena must be enjoying all the attention, right, brother?” Kyle’s voice was laced with a sarcasm I hadn’t expected.
“Of course. She’s such a goody-two-shoes. Always wants to make Mom and Dad happy. Her sweetness is too much to handle,” Dean responded, his tone mocking.
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Kyle laughed, a sound that seemed to slice through the quiet. “Hahaha! Let her have that house! Let her think that she’s won the grand prize. But if only she knew…”
Dean joined in, his laughter mingling with Kyle’s, “I know, right? She has no idea what she agreed to! Now she’ll have to care for our older parents, be their nanny, and stay around them 24/7.”
White kitchen cabinets | Source: Pexels
“Poor thing! I feel bad for her. Imagine her life as a parent sitter while we’ll be happily chilling and going to parties with no responsibilities,” Kyle added, his tone dripping with faux sympathy.
A close-up photo of a woman crying | Source: Pexels
Stunned and deeply hurt by the conversation I’d accidentally overheard, I made my way back upstairs, each step heavier than the last. My mind was racing, emotions swirling into a storm of betrayal and disappointment.
By the time I reached my parents’ room, my decision was made. I couldn’t bear the thought of my future being a topic of mockery or an unwelcome burden cleverly offloaded onto me.
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Knocking softly on their door, I entered. The dim light cast shadows across their concerned faces.
“Mom, Dad,” I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside, “I need to talk to you about the will. I’ve thought about it, and I want you to cut me out completely. I don’t want the house or any part of the inheritance.” The words tumbled out, a mix of resignation and resolve.
A person signing their last will | Source: Shutterstock
They looked at each other, then back at me, confusion and worry etched in their expressions. “But why, Elena?” Dad asked, his voice thick with concern.
I shook my head, unable to disclose the real reason, the hurt still too raw. “I just think it’s better this way. Please, let Kyle and Dean have it.”
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Without waiting for their response, I grabbed my things and left, the night air cold against my tear-streaked cheeks as I headed back to my apartment. The drive was a blur, my thoughts loud and chaotic.
The next morning, as the sunlight streamed uninvited into my apartment, my phone rang. It was Mom. “Elena, what happened last night? Why don’t you want the house anymore?” Her voice was gentle, probing for answers I wasn’t ready to give.
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I paused, collecting my thoughts. “I think it’s best if Kyle and Dean have the house. I don’t need anything in return to care for you and Dad. I want to do it because I love you, not because I expect something back,” I replied, my voice more confident than I felt.
An old man with a hearing aid | Source: Unsplash
True to my word, over the next few months, I devoted myself to caring for them. Despite their numerous ailments, their old age, and increasing fragility, I was there.
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Whether it was doctor’s appointments, grocery runs, or simply spending time with them, watching old movies, I made sure they felt loved and cared for. My heart may have been bruised, but it was not broken—not when it came to my parents.
Several apples lying beside a brown paper bag and a pack of bread | Source: Pexels
Life has a way of unfolding that you can never predict. Just two months after deciding to devote myself fully to my parents, I faced the hardest goodbye: we lost Dad.
The grief barely had time to settle before, a month later, Mom followed, leaving me in a world without them.
People attending a burial | Source: Unsplash
It was a numbing whirlwind of loss that felt both cruel and unbearable. Yet, during those months, the bond we fortified through care and shared moments became my solace.
As expected, Kyle and Dean inherited the house. I wasn’t there to see it transferred, but I heard about what happened next in a surreal, almost unbelievable sequence of events.
Assorted hanging paper lamps outside a house | Source: Pexels
A few weeks after they moved in, my brothers decided to throw a massive housewarming party. I wasn’t invited, but the news traveled fast and furious, much like the fire that ended the night.
Two persons holding glasses filled with beer | Source: Pexels
From what I pieced together, the party was in full swing—loud music echoing through the halls where we once played hide and seek, laughter and clinking glasses filling rooms that still echoed with remnants of our childhood giggles. But then, tragedy struck.
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Amidst the revelry, a fire broke out. It was a huge, engulfing flame, sparked by a short circuit, something so small yet so destructive. The house, our family home filled with memories, was consumed by fire, reducing everything to ashes within hours.
My brothers, thankfully safe, watched helplessly as the physical connection to our parents vanished into smoke.
Children’s photos hanging on a wire | Source: Unsplash
Meanwhile, before all this, I took with me not just the heartache and the bittersweet memories but also tangible pieces of my childhood.
The blanket Mom sewed for me when I left for college, the photos of us at various stages of life, the scrapbook Dad and I had spent countless Sundays decorating—these were my treasures. But there was one more surprise waiting for me, something neither my brothers nor I knew about.
A scrapbook lying on a white cloth | Source: Pexels
In the quiet aftermath of my parents’ passing, as I was sorting through some of their belongings, I found a small, unassuming box. Inside it was a large, beautifully cut stone that shimmered with a light of its own.
A small gift box decorated with a red ribbon | Source: Pexels
Curious, I had it appraised, not expecting much. To my utter shock, it was a rare gem, worth a small fortune. It seemed my parents had left me a keepsake, a final gift, ensuring I had a piece of them that carried both sentimental and significant value.
A teardrop-shaped amethyst stone | Source: Unsplash
So, here I am, reflecting on the whirlwind that’s been my life these past few months. I sit, the gem catching the sunlight, casting colorful reflections across the room, each a memory, a moment of love shared with the two most important people in my life.
My brothers might have gotten the house, but fate had other plans for that inheritance. I, on the other hand, ended up with something far more precious.
A depressed man hiding his face with his hand | Source: Pexels
So, dear readers, do you think I was right to ask my parents to remove me from their will? If you were in my position, faced with such revelations from siblings, what would you have done? Sometimes, the real value of things isn’t in their appearance but in their true meaning.
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