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Story of a Softhearted man

some times kindness harms

By Azhar Mehboob uthwalPublished about a month ago 3 min read
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Story of a Softhearted man
Photo by Prakriti Khajuria on Unsplash

I lived a life woven from kindness. My heart, perpetually soft, responded to every whimper, sob story, and plea. I fostered stray dogs, loaned money without contracts, and even took in a distant cousin who "just needed a fresh start." I, with my gentle eyes and a smile etched by years of helping others, was a magnet for those seeking an easy touch.

At first, it was endearing. The rescued animals found loving homes, the loans (mostly) got repaid, and my cousin, Mildred, seemed grateful. But soon, the cracks began to show. Mildred, it turned out, was a master manipulator. She guilted me into endless chores, borrowed "small sums" that never came back, and even convinced me to co-sign a disastrous loan.

The neighbors, well aware of mine generosity, started dropping by more frequently. The Johnsons "needed a jumpstart" for their car (again), Mrs. Periwinkle's leaky roof "desperately" needed fixing (with my paying the bill), and even the local teenagers guilt-tripped me into sponsoring their "important" debate team trip (to the beach, it turned out).

I, ever the optimist, saw the good in everyone. I did repeat my favorite motto, "A kind word never goes to waste," even when my bank account dwindled, and my own needs went unmet. My once vibrant smile grew strained, and my kind eyes held a dull ache.

One evening it was raining , a young woman, soaked to the bone, barged into my bakery I was surprised to see her in this situation in heavy rain. She started weeping bitterly and told me a story about being evicted and having nowhere to go. I, despite the sinking feeling in his gut, offered her a warm blanket, a hot meal, and even the spare room in my tiny apartment.

The woman, Sarah, seemed genuinely grateful, but her charm quickly wore thin. She refused to get a job, spent my groceries on expensive snacks, and even started bringing in loud, partying friends late at night. The once peaceful haven became a chaotic mess.

One day, a frantic phone call shattered my world. It was the bank, informing me that Mildred, having skipped town, had defaulted on the loan. And I, responsible for the debt, was facing financial ruin. Shame and despair threatened to engulf me.

That night, as Sarah blasted music while I sat alone with a cup of cold tea, a single tear rolled down my cheek. It wasn't just for my financial woes; it was for the betrayal of my trust, the erosion of my kindness.

The next morning, with newfound resolve, I confronted Sarah. I spoke firmly, my voice hoarse but unwavering. I explained my situation and politely asked her to leave. Sarah, surprised by my change, tried her manipulative tactics again, but I stood firm.

I helped her find a temporary shelter, a reality check she desperately needed. As she left, a flicker of something akin to shame crossed her face.

The road ahead was long. I contacted my neighbors, apologetically explaining my situation. Thankfully, some understood, offering genuine help with repairs and chores. Others, however, showed their true colors, disappearing like smoke.

I started saying no, a word he'd almost forgotten. I learned to discern true need from opportunism. I rebuilt his finances, one small step at a time. My smile, though a little more guarded, returned.

The experience left a mark. My kindness remained, but it was tempered with wisdom. I learned that a generous heart thrives alongside strong boundaries. I discovered that true friends and those in genuine need would respect, not exploit, my kindness. I, the soft-hearted man, still loved to help, but now I helped with a discerning eye, ensuring my kindness, like a precious seed, found fertile ground.

innocence
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About the Creator

Azhar Mehboob uthwal

Hi.I am azhar mehboob. I am blogger and content writer.I write from my heart and real stroies.

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