As Linda and I strolled down the busy street, I noticed the familiar figure of Alex, the homeless artist.

He was there every day, set up on the same corner with his easel and brushes. His clothes were worn, his hands rough from countless hours spent creating, yet no one ever stopped to appreciate his work.

Linda, walking beside me, glanced at Alex’s latest piece.

“What a waste of time,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Who would ever want that junk?”

Linda always had a sharp tongue, especially when something didn’t meet her standards.

She was beautiful, no doubt about it, with her flawless appearance and perfect style. But beneath the surface, a part of her thrived on status and luxury.

She loved being the center of attention and loved when people admired her, but she had little patience for anything or anyone that didn’t fit into her world.

I stopped, reached into my pocket, and placed a few bills in Alex’s hat.

“Thank you, sir,” Alex said quietly, not even looking up from his painting.

His voice was gentle, almost too soft for someone living on the streets. We continued walking, and Linda let out a small, annoyed sigh.

“I don’t know why you bother,” she sniffed, her nose wrinkling slightly as if the very idea of charity was beneath her. “He’ll just waste it.”

I didn’t argue. There was no point in debating once Linda’s mind was made up.

I loved her, but sometimes her lack of empathy bothered me.

***

When we arrived at the café, Sam was already there, lounging in his usual spot, looking every bit the dandy he was.

Sam and I had been friends for years, but lately, I’d noticed a change in him. There was his not-so-subtle interest in Linda. It was obvious, at least to me, though I pretended not to notice.

As we settled at the table, I began to share the story about the homeless artist we had just passed.

“So, there’s this guy I see every day, painting on the corner,” I started, glancing at Sam and the others. “He’s got real talent, but no one ever buys his work. I gave him some money today.”

“Gave him money, huh?” Sam said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Yeah,” I replied, shrugging. “Figured it might help him out, you know? What are you getting at, Sam?”

He paused, letting the question hang in the air before answering.

“It’s easy to throw a few bucks into a hat, Ethan. Anyone can do that. But real action? Invite that homeless guy to stay with you for a week. Let’s see how generous you really are.”

It wasn’t just a casual comment—Sam was challenging me, and I could feel Linda tense up beside me.

Linda’s gasp was almost audible. She looked at me, her eyes wide with disbelief, silently begging me to refuse. But I couldn’t back out now, not with Sam watching, that smirk still plastered on his face.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

The bet was on.

***

When Alex first moved into my home, I treated it as nothing more than a way to win the bet with Sam. I didn’t think much about it beyond that.

Alex kept to himself mostly, setting up his few belongings in the guest room and spending long hours outside, either sketching or painting in the small garden.

I noticed how quiet he was, almost as if he was trying not to disturb the order of things in the house.

But it wasn’t long before I started to see that Alex was more than just a homeless man looking for a place to stay.

One evening, after a long day, we sat down to dinner—just the three of us, Linda, Alex, and me. Linda barely looked at him, still clearly uncomfortable with his presence, but I felt a growing curiosity.

As we ate, I asked Alex about his art, trying to make conversation.

“So, how did you get into painting, Alex?”

He paused, placing his fork down carefully before answering.

“I’ve been painting since I was young. It was my escape, my way of making sense of the world,” he began, his voice measured and calm.

“But things didn’t turn out the way I planned. I was once married, you see, to a woman I trusted completely. She took everything from me—my money, my home—when I was too sick to fight back.”

Linda glanced up from her plate, suddenly more interested.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone skeptical but intrigued.

Alex gave a small, sad smile.

“At the time, I was ill, too weak to battle her in court. By the time I recovered, I had nothing left. The idea of living in a shelter for the elderly didn’t sit well with me, so I chose the streets instead. I’ve found that I can see into people’s souls through my art.”

“See into people’s souls?” Linda repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. “And what do you see in mine?”

Alex looked at her for a moment, then shook his head gently.

“Not every revelation should be shared publicly.”

Linda’s eyes narrowed, clearly displeased with his answer. She didn’t say much after that, and dinner wrapped up in a tense silence.

But later that evening, when Alex had gone to his room, Linda cornered me in the living room, her frustration spilling over.

“Ethan,” she hissed, “this is ridiculous. You need to get rid of him. He’s strange, and he’s starting to make me uncomfortable. This bet isn’t worth it. Kick him out before things get worse.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but Alex’s presence was starting to reveal things about our lives that neither of us was ready to face.

***

That evening was meant to mark Alex’s last night with us, according to the bet. Sam showed up to see it through. He wanted to be there when I sent Alex on his way.

For Alex, it was just another evening. He had no idea his time with us was ending.

As for me, a sense of dread grew. The week had flown by, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I admired his depth and wisdom, but Linda’s constant complaints had worn me down. She couldn’t wait for the night to end.

As the party buzzed with conversation, Sam smirked, chatting with guests. Linda, in high spirits, played the perfect hostess, clearly relieved Alex would soon be gone. Her happiness only added to the heaviness in my heart.

I went upstairs, planning to give Alex something as a token of appreciation. But a significant amount of money was missing. Panic set in as I searched, but it was gone.

“Linda, have you seen the cash I left upstairs?”

“No,” she replied sharply, glancing at Alex. “But maybe we should ask him.”

Alex, hearing his name, turned to us. “I didn’t take anything. I spent the day in the garden.”

Linda wasn’t backing down.

“This bet was foolish from the start. It’s not worth the trouble.”

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Linda, that’s enough. Alex will stay as long as he needs to.”

Linda’s eyes flashed with anger, but she stayed silent.

Alex nodded.

“Perhaps it’s best if I leave. But before I go, let me answer Linda’s question—about what I see in her. Dishonesty, greed—traits you’ve hidden well, but not for long. You might do better with someone who values those qualities.”

He glanced at Sam, whose face turned red with anger.

Without warning, Sam lunged at Alex, but I stepped in.

“Sam, that’s enough.”

Sam jerked away, glaring at me. Alex looked at me one last time.

“Ethan, don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

With that, Alex walked out the door.

***

I felt drained like I had lost control of a situation that had spiraled far beyond what I’d ever imagined. Sam muttered something under his breath, but I didn’t respond.

Instead, I turned and headed upstairs, regret weighing heavily on me. I should have seen it coming, should have handled it better, but now it was too late.

As I reached the top of the stairs, something pulled me towards Alex’s room. I stared at the unfinished painting, and suddenly, a sharp realization caught my breath.

The truth was right there in front of me, and Alex had seen it all along! I had made a terrible mistake, and I needed to fix it.

I bolted out of the room, down the stairs, and sprinted into the night. The cool air hit my face as I ran down the street, scanning for any sign of him. Finally, I spotted his figure in the distance, walking slowly.

“Alex!”

He turned, surprised to see me running toward him.

“Ethan?”

“I’m sorry,” I gasped. “I was wrong about everything. Please, come back.”

***

When we returned, I didn’t waste any time. “Pack your things, Linda. It’s time for you to leave.” She stared at me, shocked. “What? Ethan, what are you talking about?”

I pointed to the necklace she was wearing—the one I hadn’t seen before tonight but had unmistakably recognized from Alex’s painting.

“Where did you get that?”

Linda hesitated, then tried to brush it off.

“I bought it myself. It’s no big deal.”

“No, Linda, it’s a diamond necklace. And too expensive! Sorry, but you couldn’t afford it on your own. So either you stole the money or someone else bought it for you. Either way, it’s time for you to go.”

Her patience snapped.

“Fine! I bought it with your money, alright? Because you never gave me anything this nice!”

She paused. “And I’m leaving, Ethan. I’m going with someone who actually spends time with me.” She glanced at Sam, who had a smug look on his face.

“Is this true, Sam? We were supposed to be friends.”

Sam just smiled, that familiar smirk now cruel.

“Ethan, look around you. Your kindness has blinded you. You’ve been living in a dream world, but the real world isn’t as perfect as you think.”

With that, Sam and Linda left together, leaving me in stunned silence. As the door closed behind them, I turned to Alex, the weight of everything hitting me at once.

“Thank you, Alex,” I said quietly.

“Your painting! It helped me see what I’ve been avoiding for so long.”

“Sometimes, the truth is hard to face, but it’s always there, waiting for us to see it.”

I decided then and there to let Alex stay. He had no place to go, and I knew he needed a fresh start, just as much as I did. Together, we would sell his paintings, get him back on his feet, and start new chapters in our lives.

Thanks to Alex, I learned that true value doesn’t lie in material things or false relationships, but in the sincerity and support of those who genuinely care.

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