Another beautiful morning. Thank you, Lord, that I still breathe.
Twice or thrice every week, Egemed would go to his university to conduct research. The rest of his time he spent writing—stories, novels, and fiction about life.
"Mother, I'll be back around 3 pm. Leave the hard work that you cannot do for me until I return. Tell Father to have a good day at work."
"I'm leaving," he added, glancing at the clock. 10:00 am.
Alone, he sat at the back of his classroom, watching classmates—chatting, laughing, playing, sleeping, making noise. Egemed was a very reclusive young man. He rarely had friends in class, so he spent most of his free time alone in the library. The few people he exchanged words with were limited to "hi-bye" acquaintances; they knew his name, but not his life.
His hand rested on his chin, a pensive smile on his lips. How happy I am, he thought. I have no one to talk to, yet I am content simply watching these beautiful souls… so lively today.
"Hi!"
Egemed turned, smiling. "Good morning."
"May I know your name?"
"Sure. I am Egemed Mychen. And you?"
"I'm Benson Lycrae. Nice to meet you."
Thus began their acquaintance, spending the day together.
Benson, Egemed noticed, was rude, ungrateful, judgmental, cunning, and unkind. But Egemed thought: Let it be. If he wants to be friends, I won't judge. I'll live my own way. If he leaves, he leaves. If he stays, he stays.
At twenty-one, Egemed had never met anyone who truly understood him. He did not expect or seek closeness—though he wanted a friend, he knew they would always leave in the end.
On their way home, a thief suddenly lunged at Egemed's bag. Benson acted quickly, grabbing the strap, preventing the theft. The thief fled, even as Benson hurled curses and insults at him.
Egemed, however, remained calm, smiling kindly at Benson.
Benson scowled. "Why are you still smiling? Are you mad?"
Egemed said nothing, maintaining his gentle expression.
"Still smiling? What's funny? You almost lost all your things!"
Hmph…
"Calm down, man. It's okay." Egemed responded.
"You're ridiculous, Egemed."
"By the way, thanks, Benson. If it weren't for you, I'd have to replace everything in my bag," he said, patting Benson lightly on the shoulder.
Benson laughed mockingly. "Just look at yourself… that smile won't help at all."
Egemed sighed softly. "Benson, don't you want to know why I smiled?"
"So what is it? Are you happy that your stuff was almost stolen?"
"No… not happy. But the thing is…"
"If it were me, I would have grabbed the thief and spit in his face," Benson interrupted.
"That hurts my heart," Egemed said quietly. "I don't mind if someone takes my things. That thief might have nothing—no job, no food. To survive, he may reach for what he desires. If it's my belongings, I'll let it be. I won't blame him or curse him. I see his precious soul struggling, a broken life, a mind that does not think clearly. To scold or curse only adds pain to him and pollutes my own heart with negativity."
"So you're saying stealing is good?" Benson asked.
"No. It is wrong," Egemed replied. "But we must see beyond the act. First, I pity the thief. Second, maybe he has nothing to survive. Third, thieves often come from broken backgrounds. And most importantly… love."
"Love?" Benson laughed.
"Yes, love," Egemed said, sighing. "Imagine if that thief were you. If you took my bag, I would not mind. If it made you happy, I would be happy too. If I knew where you lived, I might even bring you more of my things. No one chooses to be a thief when they are well-off. They steal because they must survive."
Benson shook his head. "You're ridiculous, man."
"I might be," Egemed said softly, "but I will not judge others without understanding their unknown struggles."
"And what about rich scammers?" Benson snapped. "Those who have everything and still do evil?"
"It's the same," Egemed said. "They are blinded by greed, unable to see beyond themselves. But if they could, they would not choose to harm. People often do evil because they are trapped in pain or desire."
Benson threw up his hands. "That works only for you! If everyone thought like you, nothing would ever be wrong. You make me mad!"
"I'm sorry. I only explained my view. Let's leave it here," Egemed said calmly.
Benson smirked. "The world isn't kind like you, idiot. Live like everyone else. When something's wrong, just… move on. See you tomorrow."
Egemed nodded. "Bye… take care."
"Especially YOU!" Benson called with a laugh.
---
At home:
"Mom, I'm back."
"How was your day?" she asked.
"Same as always… but I met a friend today. On the way back, someone tried to snatch my bag, and Benson grabbed it quickly."
"Be careful, Egemed. Don't daydream on the way," she said, smiling. "I'm glad you made a friend."
Egemed nodded, though he knew Benson was not truly a friend.
"What do you mean?" his mother asked.
"We just met today, Mother. To me, a friend is someone who understands you, is there in sadness and happiness, someone who cares until death. Most people only come when they need something. They are strangers in disguise."
"I see," she said softly. "But no one stays forever, Egemed."
"I know, Mother. Just live with the flow. …By the way, do you think thieves are bad and should be scolded or cursed if caught red-handed?"
"Of course," she replied.
"And don't you think there's a reason behind their actions?"
"That's nonsense. Even with a reason, they should work instead of stealing. Better to beg than steal."
"I see… that's how you see it, Mother," Egemed said calmly. "I'll finish your work and take a stroll outside until Father returns."
---
Later, after dinner:
Egemed could not sleep. The world outside was still, yet his heart beat with quiet pain. He turned, clutching his pillow as if it could calm the storm within him. But it didn't. His thoughts returned to the thief.
He had seen the fear, the desperation, the trembling hands. Benson had shouted and cursed—but Egemed felt none of that.
Behind the eyes of the thief, he saw only pain. Not evil, not wickedness—just pain.
Alone in his room, his heart throbbed with grief. "Why can't I see things the way they do? Why can't I be angry? Why can't I call him bad and be done with it?"
Tears welled, but he laughed softly. "I must be a fool," he said. "I smiled while Benson raged. Maybe I'm truly crazy…"
Yet somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice whispered:
You see differently because you feel deeply.
He thought of Mother and Benson—good people with hearts covered in old wounds. "Maybe that's why they judge," he murmured. "They use anger as a shield."
A warmth spread within him. His conscience spoke—not in words, but in meaning:
Egemed, you saw what others cannot.
You saw the soul beneath the sin.
You saw pain beneath cruelty.
You saw what love truly means—
to understand, to forgive, to feel mercy where others see blame.
Tears streamed again, but lighter this time, almost peaceful.
"Love and mercy… yes," he whispered. "That's what it was."
For the first time, Egemed smiled—not foolishly, but because he finally understood his heart.
And with that, he fell asleep.