Uncle, today is Mom’s birthday. I wanted to buy flowers—calla lilies, her favorite—but I didn’t have enough money. I bought a bouquet anyway. Later, when I visited her grave, I saw that same bouquet there.
Pasha was not even five when he lost his mother. Confused and scared, he couldn’t understand why everyone was whispering and crying, why his mother lay there cold and still, no longer smiling or singing lullabies.
His father withdrew into silence, and two years later remarried. Galina, the new wife, never accepted Pasha—she criticized and snapped, while his father stayed distant.
Despite everything, Pasha carried a quiet pain. On his mother’s birthday, he woke up with one goal: to bring her white calla lilies. But he had no money. When he asked his father, Galina lashed out, mocking the idea of buying flowers. His father didn’t help.
So Pasha broke his piggy bank, hoping it was enough. At the flower shop, he begged for a bouquet, offering to work in exchange. The saleswoman mocked him, threatened to call the police.
A stranger, Yura, witnessed the scene. Outraged, he stood up for Pasha and gently asked what was wrong. Through tears, the boy explained—his mother was gone, today was her birthday, and he just wanted to bring her the flowers she loved.
Yura was deeply moved. He knelt beside the boy, and everything changed from there.
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