The delivery boy looked down at his wrist, confused.

“I was born with it,” he said.

The rich man stared at the mark like the whole street had vanished around him.

The little girl tugged his sleeve.

“Dad, why are you looking at him like that?”

But the man couldn’t answer.

His eyes filled slowly, painfully.

He stepped closer to the boy.

“What’s your name?”

The boy hesitated.

“Leo.”

The man’s face went pale.

The name hit him harder than the traffic ever could.

“My son’s name was Leo.”

The boy frowned.

“I don’t have a dad.”

The man swallowed, his hands shaking.

“Your mother… what was her name?”

The boy’s lips trembled.

“Maria.”

The man covered his mouth.

The little girl looked from her father to the boy, scared now.

“Dad?”

The man’s voice came out broken.

“Years ago, I was told Maria left the country with my baby. I searched, but everyone said they were gone.”

The boy shook his head.

“My mom said you didn’t want us.”

The man closed his eyes.

A tear fell.

“She lied to both of us,” he whispered. “Or someone did.”

The boy stepped back, protecting himself from hope.

“No. Don’t say that.”

The rich man slowly took off his watch, then his jacket, like none of it mattered anymore.

He knelt on the dirty street in front of the poor delivery boy.

“I don’t care who sees me,” he said. “I lost you once.”

The girl looked at the boy, then at her father.

Her voice was small.

“Is he my brother?”

The man looked at the birthmark again, crying openly now.

“Yes,” he whispered. “He is.”

The boy’s food lay ruined in the road.

His bicycle was bent.

His hands were shaking.

But for the first time in his life, someone looked at him like he belonged.