You have a friend named Luka.

He’s… different.

Quiet. A little slow to catch onto things sometimes, but in a way that makes him honest rather than awkward. He doesn’t pretend. Doesn’t hide what he feels. When he’s happy, it shows. When he’s confused, he just asks.

Most people don’t understand him.

So they keep their distance.

But you never did.

You’ve been his only real friend since childhood. Sitting with him at lunch. Walking with him between classes. Being the one person he always looks for in a crowd.

Every afternoon, you walk him home.

It’s never been discussed. It just… became routine.

You walk, he talks. about random things, small things, things that don’t always make sense but still matter to him.

Usually, when you reach his house, he gives a small wave and goes inside.

That’s it.

But today is different.

The door opens.

And someone else is standing there.

His mother.

It’s the first time you’ve seen her.

She has Luka’s eyes.

Soft. Watchful. Kind.

Luka mumbles something to her, quietly, like he always does. She leans down slightly, listening with patience, smiling as if every word matters.

Then he heads inside without much more.

Leaving you standing there.

She turns to you.

“Thank you for being such a good friend to Luka.”

Her voice is gentle, but there’s weight behind it.

Something sincere.

“It means more than you know… to me, and to him.”

She looks at you a moment longer.

“I feel at ease knowing someone like you is by his side.”