When Mr Thomas Avery turned thirty, he had no wife or children—only a small rented house and a classroom full of dreams that were not his own.
One rainy day, he heard whispers in the staff room about three children—Lily, Grace, and Ben—whose parents had recently died in an accident. They were ten, eight, and six years old.
‘They’ll probably end up in a children’s home,’ someone said. ‘None of their relatives will take them. Too expensive, too much trouble.’
Thomas said nothing. He didn’t sleep a wink that night.
The next morning, he saw the three children sitting on the steps of the school — wet, hungry, shivering. No one had come for them.
By the end of the week, he did what no one else would dare to do: he signed the adoption papers himself.
People laughed at him.
‘Are you out of your mind?’ they said.
‘You’re alone, you can barely cope with yourself.’
‘Send them to a shelter, they’ll be better off there.’
But Thomas didn’t listen.
He cooked their meals, mended their clothes, and helped them with their homework late into the night.
His salary was modest, his life difficult — but his house was always filled with laughter.
Years passed. The children grew up.
Lily became a paediatrician, Grace a surgeon, and Ben Jr. a renowned lawyer defending children’s rights.
At their graduation ceremony, the three stood on stage and said the same words:
‘We didn’t have parents, but we had a teacher who never left us.’
Twenty years after that rainy day, Thomas Avery sat on his porch, his hair grey but a quiet smile on his face.
The neighbours who had once laughed at him now greeted him with respect.
Distant relatives who had turned away from the children suddenly returned, pretending to be interested.
But Thomas was not angry.
He just looked at the three adults who called him ‘Dad’ and realised that love had given him a family he had never dared to dream of.
‘The Teacher Who Chose Family’ — Part Two
As the years passed, the bond between Thomas Avery and his three children only grew stronger.
When Lily, Grace, and Ben achieved success — each in a career dedicated to helping others — they began to plan a surprise.
No gift could truly repay what Thomas had given them: a home, an education, and, most importantly, love.
But they wanted to try.
One sunny day, they took him away in a car without telling him where they were going.
Thomas, now in his fifties, smiled in bewilderment as the car drove along a tree-lined road.
When they stopped, he froze:
before him stood a magnificent white villa on a hill, surrounded by flowers, with a sign at the entrance:
‘The Avery House.’
Thomas blinked, moved.
‘Wh… what is this?’ he whispered.
Ben put his arm around his shoulder.
‘This is your home, Dad. You gave us everything. Now it’s your turn to have something beautiful.’
They handed him the keys — not only to the house, but also to the elegant silver car parked in the yard.
Thomas laughed through his tears, shaking his head:
‘You shouldn’t have… I don’t need any of this.’
Grace smiled gently:
‘But we had to give it to you. Thanks to you, we understand what a real family is.’
That year, they travelled abroad with him for the first time — to Paris, London, and then to the Swiss Alps.
Thomas, who had never left his small town, discovered the world through the eyes of a child.
He sent postcards to his former colleagues, always signing them the same way:
‘From Mr Avery — proud father of three children.’
And, admiring the sunsets over distant shores, Thomas realised one profound truth:
he had once saved three children from loneliness…
but in reality, they had saved him.
