A LONELY BATTLE

Dylan sat by Diana's hospital bed, watching her tired face. His heart clenched at the dark circles under her eyes and her pale skin. She was alive—but for how much longer?

A few hours earlier, the doctor had given him devastating news: Diana's treatment would cost more than ten thousand dollars.

A sum far beyond his reach.

He knew asking his parents for help would be a waste of time… but he had to try.

---

A Painful Confrontation

That evening, Dylan returned home, his stomach tight with anxiety. His parents were sitting in the living room, eyes glued to the television.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.

— Dad, Mom… I need your help.

His father barely looked up.

— What do you want? he asked, sounding irritated.

Dylan clenched his fists for courage.

— It's about Diana. Her treatment costs over ten thousand dollars, and…

His mother cut him off sharply:

— We're not wasting our money on that girl.

Dylan felt his heart break.

— But she'll die without it!

— That's not our problem, Dylan. She's not our daughter.

His father added, voice cold:

— You should stop hanging around her. She only brings trouble.

Anger flared inside Dylan.

— She has no one left! How can you be so heartless?

His mother sighed.

— Enough, Dylan. Find new friends and focus on school.

Dylan felt tears sting his eyes, but he held them back. He knew he wouldn't get anything from them.

He turned away and left the house.

He had to find another way.

---

Singing for Survival

Dylan found himself on the streets of the city, an old guitar in hand. He had no choice—he had to earn the money himself.

He sat on a sidewalk and started singing. His voice echoed through the night, filled with emotion and desperation.

The first few days were brutal. Hardly anyone stopped, and those who did barely tossed him a few coins. Others looked at him with disdain, as if he were nothing more than a beggar.

But Dylan didn't give up.

He sang in the rain, his face numb from the cold. He sang when his stomach ached from hunger. He sang when his muscles begged him to stop.

Little by little, people began to notice him. Some returned every night, touched by his voice and his story.

A month passed.

He had managed to gather a good portion of the money, but it still wasn't enough.