*He didn’t believe in girls.

Not anymore.

Life had taught him a simple rule: if a girl smiled at you, she either wanted something you couldn’t afford—or someone richer than you. He had seen it too many times in school, on the streets, even in the way people looked at each other.

So he kept his distance.

Quiet. Guarded. Always moving.

Working as a delivery boy, he barely had time to think, let alone trust anyone.

Then he met her.

It wasn’t in a dramatic way. No bright moment, no sudden connection. Just a hospital corridor at the end of a long shift.

She was sitting alone in a wheelchair near the window, holding a paper cup of water with both hands like it was the only stable thing in her world. She wasn’t rich. That was obvious immediately—old sweater, worn blanket, hospital wristband from a public ward instead of the fancy private rooms upstairs.

She looked… tired in a way money couldn’t fix.

The first time their eyes met, she didn’t smile like others did.

She just nodded slightly.

That should have been the end of it.

But fate didn’t agree.

He started getting assigned deliveries to the same ward. Meals, medicine, small packages. And every time, she was there—sometimes awake, sometimes asleep, always alone.

One day, her medication wasn’t delivered on time.

The nurse blamed the system. The system blamed someone else. No one cared.

She said nothing.

But he noticed.

Later that evening, he came back on his own time with a small paper bag.

Inside were cheap snacks from the street market downstairs.

“Here,” he said, placing it on her tray.

She looked up at him, confused. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

She studied him for a moment. “Nothing is still something when you’re hungry.”

That sentence stayed with him longer than he expected.

Days passed.

She never acted like she was above him. Never tried to impress him. Never even asked what he earned or what he owned. She just talked to him like he was… normal.

And that confused him more than anything.

Because in his world, kindness always had an agenda.

One afternoon, as rain hit the hospital windows, he finally said what he had been thinking for years.

“You know… girls always go for rich guys. It’s just how it works.”

She blinked slowly, then gave a quiet, tired laugh.

“That’s funny,” she said. “I don’t even have money to go for anyone.”

He frowned slightly.

She adjusted her blanket and looked out the window.

“I’m not waiting for rich people,” she continued softly. “I’m just waiting for someone who stays.”

Silence filled the space between them.

For the first time, his belief didn’t feel strong.

It felt… lonely.

Because the girl sitting in front of him wasn’t chasing wealth either.

She was just surviving.

Just like him.*