The man watched the recording again and again, searching for an answer. He couldn’t understand. Why would a child take flowers that didn’t belong to her?

The question tormented him all week.

The following Sunday, he returned with another bouquet. Suddenly, he saw her—the same little girl. She was standing by a nearby grave, holding a bunch of withered roses in her hands. The widower approached carefully.

“Little one… was it you who took the flowers from this grave?”

Startled, the girl tried to run, but he gently stopped her.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not angry. Just tell me—why?”

The child lowered her head and whispered:

“This is my little brother. He died in the spring. Mama can’t afford flowers. But I don’t want him to be all alone… I thought the lady in the beautiful grave wouldn’t be upset if I took her flowers.”

The widower’s heart ached. He stood in silence for a long time, not knowing what to say.

The next time, he brought two bouquets—one for his wife, and one for the boy. And when the little girl saw this, her eyes lit up with joy.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, clutching the flowers to her chest. “Now he’ll never be alone again.”