Mr. Leo taught literature at a secondary school in the suburbs. He was known to be strict, quiet, and never attended parties with his colleagues. His students only knew him at school, and after school he went straight to his old dorm room, slept early in the evening, and rode his bike to work in the morning. No one understood why a gentle, educated man lived alone for decades without getting married.

Things began to change that summer, when Mr. Leo happened to see Nam — his 7th grade student — sitting huddled on the school porch in the pouring rain. His left leg was amputated at the knee, wrapped in dirty bandages, and beside him was only a cloth bag containing a few old clothes. It turned out that after the traffic accident, Nam’s parents had left one after another. No one on either side of him had adopted him. The boy wandered from the bus station to the school porch.

At that time, Mr. Leo did not hesitate. He asked the principal to let Nam stay temporarily in the gym equipment warehouse and then secretly collected his parents’ pension to repair the old kitchen next to the dormitory, building a decent place for Nam to sleep. Gradually, the whole school knew about the story. Some smiled in admiration, others gossiped, thinking that Mr. Leo was crazy and brought suffering upon himself. But he just smiled.

For the next few years, every morning he woke up early to cook porridge for Nam to take with him. After school, he took Nam to get his leg checked, to do physical therapy, and asked for old textbooks for Nam to make up for the days he had to miss for treatment. Someone said maliciously: “Other people have children to worry about, who are you suffering for?” Mr. Leo just gently replied: “The boy needs me. That’s all.”

During Nam’s high school years, Mr. Leo still rode his bike to pick him up and drop him off at his new school, even though it was 5 kilometers further away. He was afraid that Nam would be shy around his friends because of his limping prosthetic leg, so he asked the teachers to let Nam sit at the front desk, so that he could easily observe him and avoid curious eyes. Despite the difficulties, Nam always studied well, not letting Mr. Leo down.

After 12 years of studying, Nam passed the university entrance exam. The day he carried his backpack to Hanoi to enroll, Mr. Leo stood silently outside the bus station gate, giving only a few instructions: “Eat well, stay healthy, and write to me if you have difficulties. I don’t have much, only you are my pride.”

During the years Nam was away from home, Mr. Leo was still alone, still waking up in the morning to make tea, teaching a few extra classes to earn money to send to Hanoi for Nam to pay for tuition and buy books. Occasionally, when someone introduced him to a matchmaker, he just shook his head: “I’m used to living alone. Now I just hope Nam will have a stable job after finishing school.”

Nam was a good student. Four years later, he graduated with a red diploma and was hired by a design company right away. The day he received his first salary, Nam sent Mr. Leo a stack of money that still smelled of new paper. Mr. Leo opened it, his eyes were already blurry but he still tried to count it all, then quietly put it in an envelope. The next morning, he took it out to buy more bone and joint supplements, a few kilos of rice, and a bottle of cooking oil, thinking to himself, “This money is yours, I’ll spend it wisely.”

The day Nam brought his girlfriend home to meet his parents, Mr. Leo’s hands trembled as he made tea, confused like a real old father. The girl held Nam’s hand very naturally, bowed politely, and said: “We plan to get married at the end of the year, don’t worry, Mr. Nam will take you to the city to live with us.”

Mr. Leo smiled with tears in his eyes. He said he was used to it, this small room was warm enough. But Nam still insisted: “I lost my family because of you, now that you have a family, I will be the first person you welcome.”

20 years since that rainy night, from a boy huddled in the school porch to a steady working man, Nam has changed his own fate thanks to the warm hand of a teacher who is not related by blood. On the day Nam held his wedding, Mr. Leo wore an old suit that Nam bought for him, quietly sat in the front row, watching his son give the ring to his wife. A stranger asked softly: “Are you the son-in-law’s biological father?” Mr. Leo just smiled: “No, I’m just a former teacher.” But to Nam, he is a real father, the most solid support in his life.

After the wedding, Nam kept his promise and welcomed Mr. Leo to their small apartment. Every morning, he went to the balcony to water the pots of flowers Nam bought. In the afternoon, he picked up his little grandchild from kindergarten, his hands shaking but his heart filled with indescribable peace. Once, a neighbor asked: “Why don’t you get married and have children, but now you depend on others?” Mr. Leo just smiled: “I don’t have any children, but God has blessed me with a son who is more filial than any other son in the world.”

His life ended on the bed next to the window, when he was over eighty. That day, Nam held his hand tightly and whispered: “Don’t worry, I will still live well and teach my children to be the person you taught me.” Mr. Leo smiled, as gently as his last breath.

Outside, the old school yard still echoed with the sound of drums and the laughter of students. The light drizzle was like a gentle embrace, protecting the children who needed a shoulder to lean on to believe in the goodness in the world.