The billionaire’s broken car slept at the old man’s house for one night, she turned pale when she saw this in his house
If you enter this hut, don’t scream. Not everyone can understand what’s inside.

Thunder rumbled in the purple-gray sky as Anaya stood alone in the middle of a vast rice field in Punjab. The shiny red convertible now lay motionless on the side of the dirt road, the rear wheel completely sunk into a pothole.

She had just tried to start the engine for the fourth time, hopeless. There was no phone signal, it was about to rain. And the scariest thing was that she was in the middle of nowhere, no houses, no gas stations, not a single person had passed by in the past 30 minutes. Anaya stood leaning against the car with her arms crossed, her long black hair blowing lightly in the wind. Although she still maintained the graceful, elegant and cold appearance of a powerful CEO, her eyes flashed with insecurity.

This was the first time in many years that she had fallen into such a naked situation. She frowned as a figure slowly approached. An old man wearing a crude Indian hat pulled a cart loaded with straw. Anaya was relieved; at least there was someone to ask for directions.

“Is your car broken?” he asked slowly, hoarsely.

“Yes, the wheel fell into a pothole, it must need repair,” she replied, trying to keep her composure.

The old man nodded to the sky and said,
“It’s going to rain heavily. The road here is slippery, and if it rains, you’ll get stuck. There’s only my hut nearby. Do you want to come in and get out of the rain?”

Anaya hesitated. She looked at the small hut nestled in the middle of a rice field, about 200 meters away. It looked shabby and simple, its walls made of palm leaves. “I don’t want to bother you,” she said, but he stopped and looked straight into her eyes:
“If you go into this hut, don’t shout. Not everyone can understand what’s inside.”

That sentence was like a needle that touched Anaya’s curiosity. She followed Mr. Tu, the man who led the way.

The hut was low, the walls were made of nipa palm leaves, the door was just a thin cloth. The wind blew through the gap, carrying the smell of dampness and old soil. Mr. Tu pulled the cloth aside, Anaya stepped in, and her heart stopped beating. On the wall, on the table, on the ground were hundreds of portraits of…
herself.

Anaya was at many different ages: when she was a 10-year-old girl wearing a school skirt, when she was a young woman in her twenties, when she was a powerful CEO in an article in the Times of India, even a selfie that only her relatives could see.

“What… what is this? Did you draw it?” Anaya stepped back, her voice faltering.

“No, I’m not following you,” Mr. Tu walked slowly to the table, picking up a drawing. “I’m just recording memories. You don’t remember me, but I once owed you a life.”

Anaya was stunned. The rain began to pour down, harmonizing with her chaotic heartbeat. The poor man before her declared that he had once owed her a favor. She picked up a picture with trembling hands: a skinny 10-year-old girl, her face dirty, holding a loaf of bread and smiling.

A vague memory surfaced. 20 years ago, on a rainy night in Punjab, little Anaya was lost on the road, hungry and wet, breaking in half the last loaf of bread to share with an old beggar. That man then wandered around, working for a living, but always remembered the look in her eyes.

Lam – now Anaya – stood still. She, the powerful billionaire, realized that a small loaf of bread had connected two people, sowing the seeds of a deep gratitude.

In the sound of heavy rain, Mr. Tu told about his life: from a talented artist to losing everything, living alone, but keeping the memories of little Anaya. He painted every moment of her from memory and hope.

Suddenly, thunder and lightning struck, the old hut caught fire. Anaya rushed in to pull him out, escaping before the fire engulfed all the paintings. Having experienced loss, Anaya decided to give back: bring Mr. Tu back to Mumbai, rebuild his life, open an art space to display paintings, tell stories of gratitude, kindness and karma. Mr. Tu agreed, not to become famous, but to live again.

Finally, Anaya kept the painting of the girl sharing a loaf of bread, hanging it in the main office of the company as a reminder that gratitude, kindness, and sharing are the most valuable assets in the world.