Jamal looked at it for a long moment, then took it gently. He slipped it over his head. The stone rested against his chest, small and dark against his faded hoodie.
“Thank you,” the boy said. For the first time, his voice wavered—just a little.
Alexander swallowed hard. “If you ever need anything—school, a home, safety, anything—you find me. No strings. No cameras. Just… let me help. The way you helped me.”
Jamal stood up. He was still small, still thin, but there was something steady about him now.
“I help because I can,” he said. “You help because you finally want to. That’s the same thing.”
He stepped forward and—without warning—hugged Alexander around the waist. It was brief, awkward, the hug of a child not used to being held. But it was real.
Then Jamal stepped back, picked up his bag, and walked toward the end of the alley.
“Wait,” Alexander called softly. “Will I see you again?”
Jamal paused, glanced over his shoulder, and smiled—the same small, real smile from the hospital room.
“When someone needs reminding they’re still whole,” he said, “I’ll be there.”
He disappeared around the corner into the rain.