After Divorce She Rose Again

During my second week at the new job, I was assigned to an art gallery. There was an exhibition that day, and the gallery specifically requested our company's cleaning services. Accompanying me was a teenager, probably in his mid-teens. He had a deep tan and was quite skinny, giving him a slightly undernourished appearance, yet his eyes were strikingly bright and lively, like stars in a night sky.

I asked, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," he responded.

I chuckled, "No way. My daughter is twelve, and by the looks of you, you can't be more than thirteen."

The boy looked up in panic and pleaded, "Please don't report me. I worked really hard to get this job."

I gently shook my head, "I won't." After all, isn't everyone's early teenage years a bit of a struggle?

He sighed in relief and flashed a shy smile. For the next two hours, he stayed close, full of the boundless energy typical of teenagers.

"This metal bucket is too heavy; let me help you with it. And I'll hold the chair steady, so you don't fall."

I handed him a tissue, "Wipe your sweat. What's your name?"

"Ayden Hansen," he replied with a shy smile, then cautiously asked, "Ma'am, is it true you can't see out of your left eye?"

I was surprised, "How did you figure that out?"

For years, not even my husband or daughter had noticed.

Ayden gestured between the canvases, "You don't seem to judge distances quite right. Is it because of an illness that affects your left eye?"

I shook my head, "No, it was a gunshot wound I got while saving my ex-husband and daughter."

The boy's eyes widened, "They must be really grateful, right?"

I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn't cooperate, caught in some awkward position, "They've forgotten all about it."

I touched the prosthetic on my left side, feeling a pang of bitterness. They should have been the two closest to me, aware of the scars on my heart and my body—yet they knew nothing.

"Please don't cry, ma'am," Ayden stammered, awkwardly standing in front of me, his dark hands brushing away my tears.

Was I crying?

He puffed his cheeks, "It's their fault for being so inconsiderate! I'll help you carry things from now on, I'll help you judge distances—I'll be your eyes. And if anyone tries to give you a hard time, I'll help defend you!"

His innocent and sincere words warmed my heart, finally bringing a genuine smile to my face. "Alright, it’s a deal. From now on, Ayden will be my eyes. Let's shake on it—no backing out."

The boy's face lit up with a bashful grin as he hooked his little finger around mine, shaking it lightly, "Yes! Pinky promise, a hundred years, no changes!"