Heavy rain poured down on the rooftops of small houses at the end of a narrow alley. Puddles began to form in front of Jovan's house, but he didn't seem to care.
Jovan was a man with a mental disability.
Inside his house, it was dark and messy. Jovan sat curled up in a corner of the room. His hands tightly covered his ears, and his body was trembling.
A loud thunderclap made him jolt. He hated loud noises. Too much noise. Too much chaos.
In the past, his mother was always there for him. Every time it rained, she would light a small candle and sing gently so he would feel safe. Jovan lived alone with his mother, and his life had been relatively under control.
But now, there was no song.
No one to wrap a blanket around him when he was scared.
No one at all.
After his mother went to heaven.
Outside, amidst the falling rain, stood a tall figure with large wings—burned and broken—and eyes that glowed like embers.
Azazel.
Weak. No one will ever care for him.
Azazel smiled, watching from a distance.
Morning came. Jovan's stomach hurt. He had only been drinking rainwater from a bucket for the past two days. There was no food in the house. His mother used to take care of everything—cooking, making him bathe, washing his clothes.
Now all of that was just a memory.
Driven by hunger, Jovan finally gathered the courage to leave the house. He walked to the small market where his mother used to shop.
When he arrived, the people around began to whisper.
"That's Bu Rini's son, right?"
"Yeah, the one with mental issues. Poor Bu Rini, she took care of him until her last breath."
"She was a kind woman, but her son? Just a burden."
Jovan clutched a crumpled bill in his hand. He just wanted to buy rice.
He approached a vegetable stall and tried to speak, but his voice came out faint and shaky.
"Ri… rice…"
The female vendor glared at him.
"Hey! Get away from here! You're bad luck for my business!"
People laughed at Jovan. His hands began to tremble.
Overwhelmed by the noise and fear, he wanted to run home.
Then someone snatched the money from his hand and pushed him to the ground.
"Go away!" the vendor snapped.
Jovan curled up in fear and covered his ears. The world was too loud. He wished he could disappear.
In the distance, Azazel laughed softly.
Yes, this was all his doing.
But before the darkness could swallow Jovan any further, a gentle voice reached his ears.
"Get up."
Jovan opened his eyes and saw a man standing beside him. The man wore a clean white shirt, and his gaze was calm yet firm.
Serafim.
Serafim held out his hand.
"Let's go home."
Jovan took his hand and followed him.
He didn't know why he followed Serafim, maybe because his voice sounded different—unlike the angry, mocking voices in the market.
Serafim saw the state of Jovan's house—utterly filthy, a stench of mildew lingering in the air. Dirty clothes were scattered all over the floor. In the kitchen, piles of unwashed dishes filled the sink. Serafim sat down on the floor and looked at Jovan, who still stood by the door.
"You haven't eaten?" he asked.
Jovan shook his head.
Serafim sighed and smiled.
"Alright. Let's start here."
He cleaned Jovan's house until it resembled a livable home. Then he went out to buy groceries.
When he returned, he brought rice, eggs, and a few simple vegetables.
"I'll teach you how to cook."
Jovan lowered his head.
"I… I can't…"
"You couldn't speak before either, but now you can."
Serafim guided Jovan into the kitchen.
"Look, this is rice. We have to wash it first before cooking."
He showed Jovan how to rinse rice with water.
Jovan touched the rice, then quickly pulled his hand away.
"I don't like it… It's rough…"
"It's alright. Don't focus on the roughness—think of the result: delicious rice."
Jovan tried again and again. The rice nearly spilled several times, but Serafim patiently guided him.
"Now, let's cook the rice."
They pressed the rice cooker button together.
"Is it done?" Jovan asked.
Serafim chuckled.
"Not yet. We have to wait until it says the rice is ready. Meanwhile, we'll cook the eggs."
He lit the stove and showed how to fry eggs. But Jovan stared at the flame nervously.
"Scared."
"Don't be afraid. The fire won't hurt you."
With trembling hands, Jovan picked up the spatula. He tried flipping the egg but failed, and it broke apart.
"Wrong?"
"Not wrong. Just not used to it yet. Try again tomorrow, and you'll make the perfect egg."
When the rice was done, they ate together.
It was the first time Jovan cooked his own meal.
The next day, Serafim woke Jovan up early.
"Wake up. Today we'll learn something new."
Jovan stretched in bed, reluctant to open his eyes. He was used to sleeping all day and only waking when his stomach growled. But Serafim didn't give up; he playfully shook him.
"Come on, Jovan. You need to learn how to take care of yourself."
Jovan eventually gave in, still half-asleep.
They went to the bathroom, where Serafim pointed at a bucket full of dirty clothes.
"How long have these been unwashed?"
Jovan just lowered his head, not answering.
"Alright, I'll show you how to do it. Look, we need detergent and water."
Serafim demonstrated how to pour detergent and scrub the clothes by hand. Jovan tried, but the slippery feeling and soap suds made him panic.
"I don't like it…" he said, anxious.
Serafim stayed calm.
"That's okay. Use rubber gloves if you don't like the feeling."
Hesitantly, Jovan tried again.
This time, he managed without being too bothered. After a while, all the clothes were clean and hung to dry outside.
Serafim smiled.
"Look, you did it!"
Jovan stared at the drying clothes—once piled on the floor, now neatly hanging.
"Mom's clothes…" he said, pointing at one item.
"Ah… That belonged to your mom, huh? Now you can wash her clothes yourself," said Serafim gently.
"Now it's time for a shower."
Jovan flinched.
"Shower? I don't want to!"
"Why not?"
"I don't like cold water. I don't like being wet…"
Serafim nodded.
"Then we'll use warm water. I'll wait outside, but you have to try."
Jovan hesitated but finally entered the bathroom. He stood there, unsure what to do.
Then he remembered how his mother once taught him:
"Pour the water slowly over your body… Soap… soap goes on your belly, legs, hands… rinse… rinse with water…"
When Jovan came out, Serafim smiled.
"Good job, Jovan. You're becoming more independent."
Jovan didn't reply, but deep down, he felt a little more at ease.
Every day, Serafim patiently taught him household chores.
Weeks passed. Jovan could now cook, do laundry, and take care of both himself and his home.
One more thing remained: learning to work.
Serafim took him to a small food stall owned by Mr. Burhan, an old friend of his mother.
"Jovan, I've spoken to the owner. You can work here—help wash dishes and clean tables."
Jovan felt anxious.
"What if I mess up? What if people get mad at me?"
"It's okay. If you make a mistake, just fix it and apologize to Mr. Burhan. You can do this—after all, you cleaned your house all by yourself."
"I… I did clean my house… So I can do this," Jovan said, gaining confidence.
The first day wasn't easy. He dropped plates and upset a customer. He was confused about how to arrange the dishes neatly. But Serafim helped him, and Mr. Burhan didn't mind.
"Take your time. You'll get the hang of it."
Jovan kept trying. Slowly, he found his rhythm. He learned when to collect dirty plates and when to wipe tables. He even started talking to customers, though only a little.
After a month, Jovan could work without Serafim's help. When he received his first paycheck, he looked at the money with sparkling eyes.
"I can buy food by myself now…" he whispered.
Serafim smiled proudly.
"Yes. You can take good care of yourself now."
That night, Serafim looked at Jovan with a gentle expression.
"Jovan, I have to go."
Jovan froze.
"Go where?"
Serafim smiled.
"My task is complete. You're able to care for yourself now."
"But… I still need you…"
"No, Jovan. You're much stronger now."
Then Serafim stood and raised his hand into the air. A soft light surrounded his body, and great white wings spread from his back—followed by four more.
Jovan was stunned.
"You… who are you?"
"I am Serafim. I came because your mother begged me to help you. She was heartbroken to leave you behind…"
Suddenly, a bright light appeared beside Serafim. The light formed into the shape of a woman—someone familiar to his eyes.
"Mom..."
She smiled, her eyes filled with love.
"Jovan, I've always loved you. I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you longer."
Jovan began to cry. "Don't go..."
His mother gently shook her head. "You're strong now, my dear. You're an amazing boy. You can live your life on your own now. Believe in yourself."
The light grew brighter, engulfing both his mother and Serafim.
"Take care of yourself, Jovan," Serafim whispered before disappearing.
Jovan cried through the night. But the next morning, he began to rise from his sorrow and live his life—because he knew his mother never truly left him. She would always be with him, in his heart.
Jovan now lives independently. He still works at Mr. Burhan's food stall, and every night he cooks simple meals for himself.
Sometimes, he still misses his mother. And sometimes, he still feels afraid.
But he knows he can get through it all—because there's a light in the distance that always watches over him.
***