The son and daughter-in-law threw the elderly father out of his own home. The old man was nearly frozen when a soft paw touched his face.
Alejandro sat on a frozen bench in a park on the outskirts of Segovia, shivering from the cold. The wind howled like a hungry beast, snow fell in heavy flakes, and the night felt like a bottomless black abyss. He stared into the void, unable to understand how he ended up on the street—after building his house with his own hands—now tossed aside like useless junk.
Just hours earlier, he had still been within the walls he had known all his life. But his son, Julián, looked at him with icy coldness, as if he were a stranger, not his father.
—“Dad, Rocío and I don’t have space anymore,” he said without blinking. “Besides, you’re not young anymore. You’d be better off in a retirement home or renting a room. You have your pension…”
Rocío, the daughter-in-law, stood beside him nodding, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
—“But… this is my house…” Alejandro’s voice trembled—not from the cold, but from the pain of betrayal burning inside him.
—“You transferred everything to me,” Julián shrugged with such indifference it left Alejandro breathless. “The papers are signed, Dad.”
And in that moment, the old man understood he had nothing left.
He didn’t argue. Whether it was pride or despair, something made him turn and walk away, leaving behind everything he once loved.
Now he sat in the darkness, wrapped in an old coat, lost in confused thoughts: how could he have trusted his son, raised him, given him everything—only to end up a burden? The cold reached deep into his bones, but the ache in his soul was worse.
Suddenly, he felt a touch.
A warm, furry paw gently rested on his frozen hand.
In front of him stood a dog—large, shaggy, with eyes so kind they seemed human. The dog looked at Alejandro closely and then nudged his hand with a wet nose, as if whispering: “You’re not alone.”
—“Where did you come from, my friend?” the old man whispered, holding back the tears rising in his throat.
The dog wagged its tail and gently tugged the edge of his coat with its teeth.
—“What do you want?” Alejandro asked, surprised, though his voice no longer carried the same sadness.
The dog insisted, and the old man, with a deep sigh, decided to follow. What did he have to lose?
They crossed several snowy streets until they reached the door of a small house. A woman wrapped in a warm shawl stood in the doorway.
—“Cid! Where have you been, you rascal?” she began, but stopped abruptly when she saw the trembling old man—“My God… are you all right?”
Alejandro tried to say he could manage, but only a rough groan escaped his throat.
—“You’re frozen! Please, come in quickly!” she grabbed his hand and nearly pulled him inside the house.
Alejandro woke up in a warm room. The smell of fresh coffee and maybe cinnamon rolls floated through the air. He didn’t immediately know where he was, but the warmth surrounding him chased away the cold and fear.
—“Good morning,” said a gentle voice.
He turned. The woman who had rescued him the night before stood in the doorway holding a tray.
—“My name is Lucía,” she smiled. “And yours?”
—“Alejandro…”
—“Well, Alejandro,” her smile widened, “my Cid doesn’t bring just anyone home. You’re lucky.”
He gave a faint smile in return.
—“I don’t know how to thank you…”
—“Tell me how you ended up on the street in this cold,” she said, placing the tray on the table.
Alejandro hesitated. But there was so much genuine concern in Lucía’s eyes that he suddenly told her everything: about the house, his son, and how he’d been betrayed by the people he lived for.
When he finished, a heavy silence filled the room.
—“Stay here with me,” Lucía said suddenly.
Alejandro stared at her, stunned.
—“What?”
—“I live alone—just me and Cid. I could use some company, and you need a home.”
—“I… I don’t even know what to say…”
—“Say yes,” she smiled again—and Cid, as if agreeing, nudged his hand with his nose.
At that moment, Alejandro understood: he had found a new family.
Months later, with Lucía’s help, he took the matter to court. The documents Julián had forced him to sign were declared invalid. The house was returned to Alejandro.
But he didn’t go back.
—“That place isn’t mine anymore,” he said quietly, looking at Lucía. “Let them keep it.”
—“And you’re right,” she nodded. “Because your home is here now.”
He looked at Cid, at the cozy kitchen, at the woman who had given him warmth and hope. His life hadn’t ended—it was just beginning. And for the first time in many years, Alejandro felt he could still be happy.