The Angel’s Haven Orphanage wasn’t exactly a beacon for philanthropy. Nestled in an unassuming corner of town,

it was too small to catch the eye of tycoons or celebrities looking for a charity to boost their image. Without the lure

of media buzz, the orphanage didn’t attract those seeking to showcase their generosity for a PR boost. Everyone

knew that big gestures during a crisis got more attention than the quiet struggle of making ends meet.

Still, Angel’s Haven Orphanage stayed afloat through the years, thanks to the silent support of a few true

philanthropists who didn’t need their names in lights.

Yasmine was too young to understand these complexities at six or seven. But as she grew older, the weight of the

orphanage’s struggles became more apparent. The quality of meals improved with every benefactor’s visit, and the

director’s smile returned briefly, teaching Yasmine that their survival hinged on the kindness of strangers.

To the kids, these visitors were akin to Santa Claus, distributing cookies, toys, or books in the classroom, leaving

them beaming with joy. All except for one boy, who, despite his tender age, always seemed to cloak himself in

solitude, warding off any approach with an invisible barrier.

flowerbeds, with a book

friend among them, yet over time, she realized

motives too simple,

philanthropists would arrive with their entourage of journalists,

wear a look of

world that only accepted

until one day she noticed the aloof boy

met, and it was

try a different tactic.

Both had seen through the

silent

walls they thought unassailable.

somehow, they became what others saw as “good friends,” a

for it, and even the director seemed relieved, seeing

of normalcy.

this was their life. Then Serena arrived. With her short-cropped hair and a white

a mystery. Yasmine learned that Serena was seven and had lost

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