After picking up a pair of twin girls out in the middle of nowhere, man left them at home with his paralyzed wife and took off..

In his younger days, John worked as a forest ranger.

He thought it would always be that way. He loved the job. And why not?

His grandfather was a ranger, his father too. John lived, worked, and dreamed that one day he’d marry, have a son, and pass the ranger trade down to him. He’d teach him everything, all the wisdom and tricks of the job.

If you take a boy into the woods from a young age, like his father did with him, he’d grow up knowing the forest inside out. Those were John’s simple, honest dreams. The time came.

John found himself a bride from his own small town. She was quiet, modest. Rumors floated around that she was adopted, raised in an orphanage before her parents took her in.

But what did it matter? She was still a person. Her parents loved her, and she was a good woman. John thought, we’ll build a life together, just as soon as I finish my military service and come back to plan the wedding.

But as the saying goes, man plans, and God laughs. Now John had to accept that there’d be no son, not ever. He had to give up his beloved job too, taking work in the city where the pay was better.

He and his wife needed the money now, more than ever. It wasn’t so bad, except John missed the forest terribly. He didn’t let it show, not wanting to upset his wife. All he had left of his old joy was walking through the woods to the train station for his city job.

But that was just a fleeting comfort, a chance to breathe fresh air, nothing more. There was no time to wander the woods aimlessly; too many chores waited at home. His wife, you see, was paralyzed, so John had to handle everything—housework, the garden, all of it.

The one thing John allowed himself was picking up trash near the summer camp when he passed by on his way home from the station. That camp drove him up the wall. Not the camp itself, of course.

Camps are great—let kids enjoy nature, make friends. No, it was the counselors who got under his skin, the ones who didn’t watch the kids, letting them toss junk over the fence, and making a mess themselves. John loved nature too much.

He couldn’t walk by without cleaning up the forest. If he were still a ranger, he’d have given those counselors a piece of his mind. He’d have marched to the camp director, sorted it out, and put everyone in their place.

But he had no authority now. So he kept quiet and picked up the trash himself. Today was no different, John coming home from work.

It was August, the evenings cooling down. A chill and dampness settled in as soon as the sun dipped below the treetops. John looked, and there it was again—piles of candy wrappers, plastic bottles, and junk behind the camp’s fence.

What kind of pigs? Why couldn’t they carry it to the dumpster? Why toss it here? John approached, inspecting the mess. Looked like stray dogs had already torn through, scattering wrappers everywhere. He pulled a bag from his pocket—he always kept one handy, just in case.

He started picking up. Cleared the piles, then moved to the scattered bits. The trash seemed spread across the whole forest.

He didn’t notice how far he’d wandered into the woods. It was getting dark. Then he heard it—someone sobbing…

A child? He looked around, and there, on a fallen log, was a surprise. Two little girls, huddled together, shivering.

Dressed only in thin sundresses, no sweaters, no jackets. Crying….