The night air hit him like a blessing — cold, sharp, alive. He stumbled out into the darkness, each breath clearing his mind.
By morning, he reached the countryside. The Austrian rural landscape unfurled before him: rolling green hills, dewy meadows, silver rivers, and a soft mist drifting lazily between the trees. There were daisies growing along the path. He looked up and saw birds flying overhead. He could even hear faint violin music, as if the world was celebrating his escape.
Just as hunger gnawed at him, he found a small restaurant.
Inside, sunlight streamed through lace curtains. Locals chatted warmly at Formica‑topped tables. A rosy‑cheeked woman moved between them, smiling like she’d been waiting for him all morning.
“Good morning, dear,” she said. “You look tired. What can I get you?”
John ordered stew, cheese, and bread. When he asked the price, she replied smilingly: “$19.99”
As he searched through all his pockets, he found only $10. He rose to leave, embarrassed, but before he reached the door, a woman hurried toward him.
“Hello, John, it's good to see you here.” she said gently. “What happened?”
She was a relative of his. John told her everything — the kidnapping, the escape, the long walk through the countryside.
“You helped me and my mum so often in the past,” she said. “It’s time for me to help you back.”
She paid the remaining $9.90 for him. John thanked her, and they sat down for a quiet conversation.
The stew arrived in a soft cloud of steam and fragrance. It was rich, comforting and full of flavor!
He ate slowly, savoring every bite, amazed that a simple dish under twenty dollars could taste like heaven. He wished he could order another bowl, but he was running out of money.
Back in Vienna, John found himself working with a clarity and energy he hadn’t felt in years. He never forgot the night he learned humility the hard way. For the first time in years, he could feel joy and gratitude in his heart — the kind of joy that grows out of the soil of humility.
