“I will not leave you. I promise”: A stranger becomes a father following the call of his heart
“Sir… please take my sister. She is hungry…”
That voice, almost drowned out by the noise of the city, took Nicolás Arroyo by surprise.
He walked briskly, almost running, lost in thoughts about the important meeting he would have that day.
Millions of euros, contracts, the trust of investors. Since Elena had d.ied—his wife, his world—his job was the only thing that kept him alive.
But that voice… He stopped and turned around.
In front of him was a boy of about seven. Thin, with shabby clothes and tearful eyes. In his arms, he held a bundle: a baby girl, wrapped in a faded blanket.
The baby whimpered softly, while her brother held her as if his life depended on it.
“Where’s your mom?” Nicholas asked, crouching down to her level.
“She said she’d be back soon… but it’s been two days,” the boy whispered. I’m still waiting here…”
The boy’s name was Adrian, the girl’s was Lucia.
They had no one else. No notes, no addresses, just hunger and endless waiting.
Nicolas suggested calling the police, notifying social services, buying them food.
But when he heard “police,” Adrian shuddered.
“Please, don’t hand us over… They’ll take Lucia…”
At that moment, Nicolas knew he couldn’t leave them.
Something inside him, hardened by grief, had cracked.
They went to a nearby cafe.
Adrian ate quickly, as if afraid they would take his food. Nicolas gave Lucia formula.
For the first time in a long time, he felt needed.
Not as a businessman, but as a person.
“Cancel all my meetings,” he ordered his assistant briefly over the phone.
The police arrived quickly. Everything seemed normal. usually: question, form.
But when Adrián held his hand and whispered, “You won’t abandon us?” Nicolás answered without thinking:
“I won’t abandon them. I promise.”
Temporary custody was granted through an acquaintance, Margarita Jiménez, a social worker.
“Only until they find their mother,” Nicolás repeated.
He took the children to his spacious apartment.
Adrián said nothing, just held Lucía.
His eyes reflected fear—not of him, but of life itself.
The silence of the once-empty house was now filled with laughter, crying, and the lullabies Adrián sang to his sister.
Nicolás made mistakes with diapers, forgot meals, and didn’t know how to hold a bottle.
But Adrián helped him silently, mature beyond his years. Only once did he say,
“I don’t want her to be afraid.”
One night, Lucía cried. Adrián held her and sang until she calmed down. Nicolás looked at him with a lump in his throat.
“You did a good job,” he said.
“I have to study,” the boy replied, without complaining.
Then the phone rang. It was Margarita.
“They found her mother. She’s alive, but she’s in rehab. D.rug addict, serious. If she recovers, she can get custody of the children back. If not… the state will take care of them. Or… you.”
Nicolás remained silent.
“You can file for custody. Or adopt them. It’s up to you.”
That afternoon, Adrián was huddled in a corner. He wasn’t playing or watching TV.
Suddenly, he asked:
“Will they take us away again?”
Nicolás sat down next to him.
“I don’t know… But I’ll do everything I can to keep them safe.”
“What if they separate us again?” His voice was shaky, weak.
Nicolás hugged him.
“I won’t leave you. I promise. Never.”
The next day, he called Margarita:
“I want to file for adoption. Forever.”
The evaluations, visits, and paperwork arrived. But now he had a purpose: to protect those children.
He bought a house on the outskirts, with a garden and peace and quiet.
Adrián was reborn: he ran, read aloud, drew, baked cookies. Nicolás laughed again.
One night, as he tucked him in, he heard:
“Good night, Dad…”
“Good night, son,” he replied, holding back tears.
In the spring, the adoption was formalized. But in his heart, Nicolás already knew.
Lucía’s first word—“Dad”—was the most precious sound of his life.
He hadn’t planned to be a father. But now he didn’t understand how he had lived without them.
And if anyone asked when his new life began, he would answer without hesitation:
“Since that ‘Sir, please…”
