Under a sagging blue plastic sheet, Jamal sat cross-legged on an overturned crate, rain dripping around him. He was carving something small into a piece of wood with a dull pocketknife. The same cloth bag rested beside him.
The boy looked up. No surprise, no fear. Just calm recognition.
“You found me,” Jamal said simply.
Alexander stopped a respectful distance away. Rain soaked his shirt; he didn’t care.
“I’ve been looking for months,” he said, voice thick. “Not to pay you. The million was yours the moment you walked out—I never took it back. I just… I needed to say thank you. Properly. Face to face.”
Jamal tilted his head. “You already did. You’re walking. You’re giving to other kids. That’s enough.”
“It’s not,” Alexander replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside was a simple silver chain with a tiny black stone pendant—cut from the same material as Jamal’s healing stone, or at least as close as the best jewelers could manage after Alexander described it obsessively.
“I had this made,” he said. “Not magic. Just… a reminder. For when you feel like no one sees you.”
He held it out.