Robert was exhausted from work. As he stepped through the door, he was greeted by a mess: toys on the floor, spilled water, and the noise of his ten-year-old son, Basty.
Basty has Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). He cannot speak clearly and is often hyperactive. He runs in circles in the living room while flapping his hands (stimming).
“Basty! What is wrong with you?!” Robert shouted, slamming his bag down. “Stop running around! You’re making me dizzy! The house is a mess again!”
Basty stopped. He looked at his father, but his face was expressionless. He just went back to rocking his body in a corner.
“Leave him alone, Hon,” his wife, Carla, cautioned while carrying their youngest baby, Lia. “The child is just playing.”
“Playing? He’s destroying the house!” Robert replied, annoyed. “I don’t know what to do with that child anymore. He’s too restless!”
The next day, Robert stayed home because it was his day off. Carla left to go to the market for a while. Baby Lia was asleep in the crib in the living room, while Basty was on the floor, playing with blocks.
Robert went into the bathroom to take a shower. “Basty, stay here, okay? Don’t touch your sister!” he strictly instructed.
While in the bathroom, Robert heard a loud thud.
BASH!
This was followed by Baby Lia’s loud crying.
Faster than lightning, Robert wrapped a towel around himself and ran out.
He saw the crib overturned. Baby Lia was on the floor, crying. And Basty… was beside the baby, holding her arm tightly and seemingly pulling her.
Robert’s vision darkened.
“BASTY!” he screamed.
He pushed Basty forcefully away from Baby Lia. The child was flung onto the sofa.
“What did you do?! I told you not to touch her!” Robert furiously yelled. “Why did you push your sister?! Do you want to harm her?!”
He immediately tended to the baby. Fortunately, she had no injuries, but she was crying uncontrollably from shock.
Basty, on the other hand, huddled in the corner. He covered his ears, shut his eyes, and began to sob soundlessly—a meltdown.
When Carla returned home, Robert immediately reported the incident. “I’m going to put Basty in a facility. He almost killed Lia earlier! He overturned the crib!”
“Robert, are you sure?” Carla asked, tearing up. “Basty wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“I saw it! He was holding Lia! If I hadn’t arrived, who knows what he would have done!”
Robert wanted to prove that he was right—that Basty was truly “dangerous” to be around. So he decided to open the CCTV recording of the living room to show Carla what their son had done.
They opened the laptop. They found the timestamp of the incident.
The video began to play.
On the screen, they saw Robert entering the bathroom. Everything was peaceful. Basty was playing with blocks. Baby Lia was sleeping.
A moment later, Baby Lia moved. Because the baby was already quite active, she managed to stand up and climb onto the side of the crib. Robert had forgotten to lower the railings or guardrail of the bed.
Half of Baby Lia’s body was lifted. She was about to lose her balance. She was going to fall headfirst onto the cemented floor.
In the video, they saw Basty.
Basty stopped playing. He looked at his sister.
In a flash, Basty ran incredibly fast. He didn’t run to play. He ran to catch her.
Baby Lia fell right on cue.
But before the baby’s head could hit the cement, Basty caught her. He hugged his sister and inserted his own body underneath so that he would be the one to crash onto the floor.
BASH!
Basty hit the cement. Basty’s head made the loud thud. Baby Lia was safely lying on top of her older brother’s chest.
Due to the force of the fall, the crib toppled over next to them (this was the sound Robert heard).
In the video, they saw Basty was hurt. He was rubbing his head. But he didn’t let go of Lia. He held his sister’s arm and tried to pull her away from the overturned metal of the crib so she wouldn’t get pinned.
That was the scene Robert walked into. What he thought was an act of harm, was actually an act of saving.
The video stopped at the part where Robert pushed Basty and yelled at him.
In the living room, Carla was silently weeping.
Robert stared blankly at the screen. His hands were trembling. His heart felt crushed by millions of needles.
“He saved her…” Robert whispered hoarsely. “He caught his sister… and then… then I pushed him.”
Robert stood up and ran to Basty’s room.
He found his son, curled up under the blanket, sleeping with a bump on his forehead—the bump he got from catching Lia.
Robert knelt beside the bed. He sobbed loudly.
“Basty… Son… I’m sorry…” the father cried. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand you. I’m sorry I thought you were a nuisance. You are a hero. A savior.”
Basty woke up because of his father’s crying. He looked at Robert.
Even though he couldn’t speak properly, Basty reached out his hand and wiped away Robert’s tears. Then, he pointed to his own head with the bump and smiled innocently, as if saying, “I’m okay, Papa.”
Robert hugged his son tightly. For the first time, he didn’t feel his son was “restless” or “messy.” He felt the embrace of an angel entrusted to him by God—an angel who didn’t need words to show pure love.