Clumsy woke up with the first rays of dawn, as the sunlight gently touched his face. He squinted slightly, rubbed his eyes, and yawned, still feeling remnants of sleep. Looking around, he was surprised to realize he was at home, in his bed, wrapped in a warm woolen blanket. The surroundings felt familiar, as if nothing had changed, even though his last memories were blurred. For some reason, he thought he had fallen asleep in a wheeled smurf.

— «How did I get here?» — Clumsy wondered to himself. He slowly propped himself up, leaning on the pillow, and began to gather his thoughts. A picture surfaced in his memory: Handy… It was he who brought him home. Gradually, everything was falling into place. This thought brought a faint but warm smile to Clumsy's face. He hadn't expected such care from someone who had once been his worst tormentor.

— «Handy took care of me... Indeed...» — Clumsy repeated mentally, slowly realizing that this was not just a coincidence. He glanced at the blanket under which he lay and noticed dried drops of blood on it. But now, all of this seemed distant and not so frightening. The very fact that Handy had brought him home and tucked him into bed gave him a strange but pleasant feeling. Clumsy smiled again involuntarily, sensing something soften within him.

He slowly pulled his legs to the edge of the bed and, supporting himself on his hands, tried to stand up. As always, his clumsiness played its role, and Clumsy lost his balance, falling heavily to the floor. The sound of the thud echoed in the room, but this time the pain didn't pierce him like it had the day before. For a moment, he lay there, wincing from the unexpected fall, but soon felt something strange. A heavy, pressing sensation began to rise sharply, as if someone was squeezing him from the inside. He opened his mouth, trying to take a deep breath, but instead, a loud, harsh dry cough burst out. The coughing grew stronger, and soon Clumsy tasted iron on his tongue. Rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach, he coughed again, and several drops of crimson blood fell onto the floor in front of him. He froze, trying to stop the fit, but couldn't. After a few more agonizing moments, to his relief, the coughing began to subside.

— Again... — he grunted. When his breathing finally normalized, he tried to get up. Expecting pain in his legs, he acted cautiously, but to his surprise, the painful sensations that had plagued him the day before had disappeared. He confidently stood on his feet and managed to straighten up. Slowly, with disbelief in himself, Clumsy took his first step, then a second, and a few more. The sensation was strange, but he could stand again and even walk.

— Well, «good morning» — Clumsy hoarsely said, wiping his mouth with his hand. Feeling a surge of strength, he approached the door of his house. The morning light was already breaking through the window, creating a cozy and warm atmosphere. Clumsy paused for a moment, looking at his home, where everything felt familiar and dear, yet also reminded him of how much time he had spent there. He took a deep breath, trying not to think of his fears, and finally opened the door. Outside, dawn was fully underway, but the village was still asleep. The silence enveloping everything around was so peaceful that Clumsy couldn't help but smile. A light morning breeze gently brushed against his face, filling him with a sense of freedom and tranquility. As the birds began to chirp awake, the sun rose higher, illuminating the village.

Clumsy walked along the path, and with each step, a new confidence and joy awakened within him. He enjoyed every moment, watching nature awaken to life. Passing familiar places, he suddenly remembered how Painter once taught him to enjoy the simple joys of life. Painter... he thought of him again.

Suddenly, on the horizon, he noticed a figure walking towards him. Gradually, the silhouette became more distinguishable, and he recognized the blue overalls. It was Handy!

— Smurfy morning, Clumsy! — Handy called out loudly as he approached, winking with a smile. — How did you sleep?

— Hi, Handy! — Clumsy replied, feeling his mood lift instantly. — It was fine.

— I see you don't need the wheelsmurfer anymore? — Handy said joyfully, noticing how confidently Clumsy stood on his feet.

— Looks like it, — Clumsy replied with a smile, straightening his shoulders a bit.

— Awesome! — Handy exclaimed, encouragingly patting him on the back. — You look much smurfier than yesterday!

— And I feel that way too. Thank you, — Clumsy thanked him and a moment later hugged Handy tightly.

— Glad to hear it! — Handy said, accepting the hug. — But I have a surprise for you!

— A surprise? — Clumsy's eyes sparkled with curiosity. He let go of Handy from the embrace. — What is it?

— I can't reveal it just yet, — Handy said mysteriously, winking. — But it's waiting for you in my workshop.

— Oh, I love surprises! — Clumsy exclaimed, rubbing his hands together excitedly. — Let's hurry there!

— Wait, wait! — Handy laughed, stopping him. — First, tell me how you're feeling. Are you really okay? You have something under your lip…

— What do you mean? — Clumsy asked, touching his mouth, trying to understand what Handy was talking about.

— You have something unsmurfy there… — Handy insisted. — I'm just worried; you coughed up blood yesterday… Maybe you should see Doctor?

— Don't worry, I'm fine, — Clumsy said, trying to sound convincing, even though he was very afraid of doctors. — I just got a bit tired yesterday… I'm all good!

Handy didn't look convinced, and his expression turned serious.

— I understand you don't like doctors, but still, if it's something serious…

— I'm not smurfing! — Clumsy interrupted him, trying to reassure his friend. — If something was wrong, I would notice it myself. And besides, I have a surprise!

— Right, the surprise! — Handy picked up, smiling slightly. — Okay, let's forget about that for a minute.

Clumsy felt the tension ease a bit and eagerly asked:

— So, what's this surprise? Is it something related to me?

— Maybe! — Handy winked mysteriously. — But to see it, we need to take a little walk.

— Let's go faster! — Clumsy exclaimed enthusiastically, forgetting about his worries. They walked along the path, and with each step, Clumsy grew more impatient. The morning sun, rising above the horizon, filled the air with a soft golden light that danced on the leaves of the trees, inviting them into a new morning. A gentle autumn breeze caressed his face, whispering of changes and new beginnings. Yellow and red leaves swirled in the air, creating a stunning dance and giving everything around an atmosphere of magic.

— Come on, at least give me a hint! — he urged, trying to catch a clue in Handy's expression.

— Mhm, I can't say, — Handy replied evasively, holding back a smile. He noticed how the sparkle of curiosity in Clumsy's eyes grew brighter with each question.

— You know I love surprises! — Clumsy continued to insist, feeling his excitement rise.

— Maybe, — Handy said with a sly smile, playfully winking. — But you won't get an answer!

The air was filled with the scent of fresh earth and decaying leaves, creating a sense of winter approaching. Birds chirped happily, creating a symphony of morning awakening, while somewhere in the distance, the cheerful laughter of smurfs echoed, already awake and starting their day.

— Well, what if I say it's just a new tool? — Handy joked, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

— And what if I say I won't believe you? — Clumsy replied, laughing, clenching his fists as if trying to wrest the secret from Handy. — Come on, I'm your friend!

— That's exactly what makes this surprise special, — Handy said mysteriously, giving his voice an enigmatic tone. Soon they arrived at Handy's workshop. The door was ajar, and sounds of work could be heard from inside. Handy stopped and turned to Clumsy, smiling as he said:

— Now close your eyes and get ready!

Clumsy obediently closed his eyes. He heard Handy open the door and, placing his hands on Clumsy's shoulders, began to lead him inside.

— And now open your eyes! — Handy finally said, and Clumsy, unable to contain his curiosity, opened his eyes.

Inside the workshop, Clumsy saw something truly stunning. On a large, sturdy table covered with various tools and papers, an exquisite picture unfolded: the design of a new home for Clumsy, right in the center of the village. The blueprints were vibrant and detailed, with graceful lines outlining every corner of the future dwelling. On the paper stood a house with a cozy porch framed by flowers that were just waiting to be planted. Sunlit windows, letting in light, were marked with golden lines, creating a sense of warmth and comfort. The blueprints were filled with details: neat roof lines and little balconies that seemed to invite someone for a cup of tea. Every element looked as though Handy had poured a piece of his soul and care into it. Clumsy was astonished. He couldn't believe that someone had made something so wonderful for him. Each detail, each curve of this house filled him with admiration and a desire to see it in reality as soon as possible.

— This… this is incredible! — he exclaimed, breathlessly and hoarsely. — Handy, did you do this for me?

Tears of joy welled up in his eyes as he began to examine the blueprints with an enthusiasm as if he were searching for treasure. He touched the paper, as if afraid it might be just a dream. Unable to hold back his emotions, Clumsy suddenly hugged Handy as tightly as he could. He was overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude, pulling his friend close, as if afraid he might disappear.

— Thank you! — he exclaimed, not letting go of Handy. — You have no idea how much this means to me!

Handy smiled, hugging Clumsy in return.

— You deserve it, — he said, pulling back slightly to look at his friend. — I knew you'd love it.

Clumsy joyfully returned to the blueprints, unable to take his eyes off them. He began to study every detail again, exclaiming in delight.

— So where will it be? — Clumsy asked eagerly, looking at the blueprints.

Handy thought for a moment, surveying his workshop before answering:

— First, we need to choose the spot where your future home will stand. We can do that right now, and you'll be the one to choose. Then we'll need to go to the Timber for wood and materials.

They stepped outside. The sun was now visible to the naked eye, and its soft light enveloped the village, giving everything a magical appearance. Clumsy stopped and looked around; his gaze landed on a spot that he immediately liked — an open space directly opposite Handy's workshop.

— Right here! — he exclaimed, pointing to the spot across from the workshop. — Let it be here!

— Great choice! — Handy nodded approvingly.

Feeling a surge of happiness, Clumsy turned to Handy.

— When do we start building?

— First, we need to go to the Timber for materials, — Handy replied. — But I think it's better to do that during the day.

— You're probably right, — Clumsy agreed, eagerly glancing at the chosen spot.

— Come back here around noon, — Handy said, pointing to the spot where they stood. — I'll be waiting for you near my workshop.

— Okay, — Clumsy said, filled with excitement for the upcoming day. — I can't wait!

— Neither do I! — Handy said with a smile.

OoO

Clumsy walked through the village, enjoying the fresh air. It was quiet all around, and only the voices of the Smurfs he met on his way enlivened this calm day. Each greeted him with a warm smile, and Clumsy tried to respond to all the friendly words, although he felt a bit out of place.

— Hi, Clumsy! I see you're feeling better? — asked one of the Smurfs, leaning over a cart of vegetables.

— Better, thank you, — Clumsy smiled awkwardly, trying to hide his embarrassment at such increased attention. After all, he had been the one who was teased more often than supported not long ago. Further down the path, he encountered Vanity, who was actively admiring himself in a mirror.

— Hey, Clumsy, how are you? You look great! Although, of course, next to me, everyone looks less bright. But you seem to be trying.

— Yeah, it's going slowly, — Clumsy replied, nervously smiling. He was approaching the center of the village, where, as they had agreed, Handy was supposed to be waiting for him. They were planning to go to the Timber for wood to start working on Clumsy's new house. With this thought in mind, he quickened his pace, eagerly anticipating seeing Handy. However, when he arrived at the workshop, Handy was nowhere to be seen. Clumsy stopped, looking around, expecting Handy might come out from around the corner or be standing nearby, just not visible right away. But he was nowhere to be found. This is strange... Handy is never late.

Suddenly, Clumsy felt a tension building up inside him, accompanied by a familiar heavy sensation. He grimaced, clutching his stomach with his hand. The pressure intensified, turning into a painful feeling as if someone were slowly squeezing him from the inside. Something lodged in his throat made it difficult to breathe. He tried to swallow, but the lump only expanded, blocking the airflow. A cough only worsened the situation: he retched so violently that his whole body shook. He doubled over, grasping his chest. Each new spasming breath felt like a vibration; it seemed like his lungs were about to burst out. With every fit, breathing became harder, and an unpleasant metallic taste appeared on his tongue. Drops of blood began to fall to the ground, leaving crimson stains. Clumsy struggled against the cough but could not stop. He continued to choke, and then, unable to bear it any longer, lost his balance. The ground beneath him swayed, and he collapsed, gasping for air and continuing to cough. Tears filled his eyes, and everything became blurry before him. His head throbbed with pain, as if it were being squeezed from the inside. His temples throbbed, and shadows flickered before his eyes, swirling around him. At one point, he felt someone grab his shoulders. Everything was hazy, but he realized he was being dragged along the ground. The warmth of the hands supported him. After a few seconds, he was pressed against a wall, and he felt himself leaning on something solid.

— Clumsy! Are you okay? — it was Handy's voice, filled with concern. Clumsy managed to lift his gaze and saw Handy's blurred figure swimming in circles, not settling in one place. Handy squatted down in front of him and waved his hand in front of his face. — Are you okay? — Handy repeated with the same worry. — Hey! Someone help! — he shouted to the other Smurfs who stood nearby, horrified by the situation. — Are you alright, Clumsy?

Clumsy looked at the ground he was sitting on and coughed three times in a row.

— Clumsy… — Handy called again, and Clumsy struggled to lift his head. His vision was still blurred, as if he were looking through fog. — You… don't look so good. Go get Papa, quickly! — Handy sharply commanded the Smurfs. He returned to Clumsy, trying to speak in a calming tone, though concern never left him.

— Answer me, Clumsy! Are you okay?

Clumsy tried to focus on Handy's words, but his voice blended with the ringing in his ears. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and the pressure inside him tightened again. Unable to endure it any longer, he coughed again, and this caused a new painful sensation, as if someone were trying to cut off his breath roughly. For a moment, Clumsy closed his eyes, but he heard Handy continuing to speak; his words merged into an indecipherable symphony of sounds. Soon, he felt a warm touch on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the Smurfs Handy had sent for Papa returning.

— Clumsy! — Papa exclaimed, kneeling beside him. — What happened? — Clumsy could barely focus to meet his gaze.

— Let's get you to a Doctor, — Papa commanded. Handy immediately helped Clumsy to his feet. Surprisingly, Clumsy was able to stand on his own, but he swayed heavily, ready to fall at any moment.

In an instant, he was walking down the path leading to Doctor's house. Two Smurfs moved in front of him: one in red, the other in blue overalls, their silhouettes appearing blurred. Each step was a struggle for him; he swayed heavily, and everything before his eyes swam. The corners of the houses he passed suddenly seemed red and blue, as if a color palette were dissolving in his mind. Clumsy stared at the ground, trying not to pay attention to the puzzled looks of the Smurfs passing by, taking careful steps one after another. Suddenly, tension rose within him again. He instinctively leaned against a nearby post to avoid falling.

— Wait… — Clumsy rasped, trying to catch up with Handy and Papa, who had moved slightly ahead, not noticing his slowing down. — Give me… a minute…

As if in response to his request, another strong coughing fit overtook him. He gasped, and drops of blood flew from his mouth, leaving crimson spots on the gray stone.

— I'll be fine in a minute… — he managed to say with difficulty, trying to give his voice a tone of confidence, even though he was shaking from pain and fear. Clumsy coughed a few times, spat out bloody saliva, and wiped his mouth with his hand, feeling his heart pounding wildly.

— There… I'm fine… — he forced out, trying to convince himself and the others. Then he slowly moved forward behind Handy and Papa.

— Nearly there, just around the corner, — Handy said encouragingly as they approached Doctor's house. The bright blue walls and white trim of the doors looked as though they had just been painted, giving the house a well-kept appearance. — Now you head in there friend, go on

Clumsy, feeling his legs barely holding him up, struggled to enter the house and leaned against the wall at the threshold, breathing heavily. Each breath was a laborious effort, as if air had become an unattainable luxury. He looked around and noticed Doctor at the table, intently writing something on paper. Doctor raised his head upon noticing him and immediately frowned.

— What happened, Clumsy? Can I help you with something? — he asked with cautious concern.

— Doc… I need… a doctor, — Clumsy rasped, barely managing to get the words out. Doctor, instantly understanding the seriousness of the situation, jumped up and pointed to a soft chair by the window.

— Come in, buddy, come in, —Doctor ordered, indicating the chair. — Sit down.

Clumsy took a few steps, feeling the cough intensify again. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hold back the fit until he reached the chair and almost lost his balance as he sat down. As soon as he settled, a rumble in his chest occurred again, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing.

— So... how are you doing, our esteemed medic? — Clumsy rasped, trying to inject a joking tone into his voice, but the pain and fatigue made the joke sound unconvincing.

Doctor frowned slightly, looking at him with mild surprise.

— Medic? — he asked, smiling a little. — Seems like it. But I'm not a medic; I'm just Doctor.

— I'm sorry... — Clumsy exhaled, trying to get comfortable, even though every attempt to find comfort brought a new wave of pain.

— I was joking. Now, what's wrong? —Doctor asked, positioning a chair next to the one Clumsy was sitting in and preparing various instruments. — I mean, what appear to be the symptoms?

— Well... I think you heard them… I'm, I'm coughing — Clumsy barely spoke, struggling with the difficulty of breathing.

— Is there any blood? — Doctor asked, taking a magnifying glass and examining Clumsy's left ear.

— Sometimes...

— Okay now, here…breathe. —Doctor calmly requested, bringing the stethoscope to Clumsy's chest. He tried to take a deep breath, but it felt so heavy inside, as if each breath was a struggle. The inhalation was intermittent and painful, and the exhalation was even more difficult, as if the air was forcing its way through an obstacle.

— Again, —Doctor requested once more, moving the ends of the stethoscope to another part of Clumsy's body. He gathered his strength again, but despite all his efforts, breathing remained laborious. Doctor listened attentively, trying to understand what was happening.

Clumsy's face was drenched in sweat, his eyes red as if from long sleepless nights, and his eyelids were slightly swollen. He breathed with difficulty, his stomach rising and falling as if he were fighting for each breath. He was very thin, his cheeks sunken, and his skin pale, highlighting the hollows under his eyes. All this created an image of a tormented being desperately trying to cope with the growing pain and heaviness in his chest.

Doctor, looking concerned, put the stethoscope aside and took a tongue depressor, glancing at Clumsy with slight caution:

— Let me see your tongue. Now say ahh.

Clumsy, breathing heavily, opened his mouth and tried to say:

— Ahh…

Doctor examined his throat, and his expression changed instantly. Concern appeared in his eyes, and his brows furrowed, creating a look of deep worry. He quickly put the tongue depressor aside and hurried to the sink to wash his hands without saying a word. Clumsy felt a growing sense of anxiety inside him. He slightly sat up in the chair and, watching Doctor's flurry, hoarsely asked:

— What is it?

Doctor, not turning his head and still washing his hands, replied heavily:

— It's not good news.

— Well I guessed that. — Clumsy tried to respond hoarsely and sarcastically, feeling a suppressed feeling rise inside him, as if the confirmation of his worst fears only intensified the pressure in his chest.

There are connections that seem insignificant at first glance.

But sometimes shadows lurk beneath the surface,

And only when they begin to emerge,

You realize,

It is too late?

Doctor finally dried his hands, but his face remained focused and serious. Taking a deep breath, as if trying to gather strength before saying something important, he spoke:

— You got tuberculosis. I'm really sorry for you, it's a hell of a thing I've ever had to smurf with...

Doctor's words hit Clumsy like lightning. Everything around him seemed to fade, and the air became even heavier. His heart raced wildly in his chest, and his thoughts became tangled. He wanted to say something, but his throat tightened, and instead of words, only a dull echo escaped him. Inside, a storm of fear and despair ignited. Thoughts of the future became unbearably heavy on his mind. Clumsy pressed his hands to his chest, trying to calm the rising pressure, and rasped:

— Well what you mean?

— You're real sick, you… It's a progressive disease, and... well, it's best thing is rest. Is that possible? —Doctor asked, sitting back down in the chair next to Clumsy.

— Of course… I could ask Painter to smurf me some smurberries for a year ahead… No… — he coughed — that's impossible.

— Well… like I said, I… I'm real sorry. — said Doctor, placing his hand on Clumsy's shoulder.

— Yeah, well… — Clumsy froze, staring at one point. Memories of pain and fear surfaced. He remembered being mocked for his clumsiness as a child. Every step was uncertain, every movement awkward. His life was full of suffering, but he always tried to move forward, hoping that one day everything would change. Now it felt like another blow from fate, adding to the heavy burden he already carried. Inside, despair flared again. He had become the Smurf who never felt whole, hiding behind the mask of a once-optimistic smurf.

Clumsy tried to stand, but Doctor gently stopped him, asking him to sit back down.

— Now w-wait, wait… — Doctor went to the table and poured some kind of brew into a cup, which exuded a warm and soothing aroma. He returned to Clumsy and, extending the cup, said:

— Drink this. It will give you… a little bit more energy today.

Clumsy looked at the brew, torn between doubt and faint hope, and eventually slowly accepted the cup. He realized that this might be the only thing that could bring him even a little relief. The warm liquid slid down his throat, leaving a faint sense of warmth behind, as if trying to ease the gnawing discomfort within him. He nodded to Doctor in gratitude and, gathering his strength, rose from the chair.

Opening the door, Clumsy stepped outside and immediately froze in place. There was no one around. Neither Handy nor Papa Smurf were in sight — only the winding path stretching between the Smurf houses. The autumn world around was bathed in a soft, golden-yellow light, as if the village had suddenly been covered with a thin veil of weariness and loneliness. Everything seemed unreal, as if time had stopped and he had been left in a world where life had ceased. The usually lively village looked abandoned. The houses, where there were always Smurfs, stood empty and silent. The birds were not singing — they only slowly flew from tree to tree, and only the wind softly rustled the leaves, creating a whispering sound. Clumsy felt a strange urge to go home. For some reason, it seemed especially important now, as if home could be the only refuge for him. Lowering his head, he began walking along the familiar path, but after taking a few steps, he heard strange voices. They echoed through the forest, sounding as if they were far away.

— We've treated him unfairly. We all just believed that story, but no one bothered to check its truth.

— Ha-ha-ha! What a joke!

Suddenly, memories of all the times he had wanted to change something, how he had tried to prove he wasn't just «Clumsy» but someone more, someone who could rise above his name, came flooding back. But now it seemed that every step he took only confirmed his failures. And in response to his thoughts, another voice echoed, the one Clumsy least wanted to hear.

— So, did you enjoy the lesson, clumsy guy?

Clumsy walked along the path, and with every step, his thoughts grew darker. Inside him, a feeling of despair tightened as he remembered how the Smurfs always looked at him with judgment, as if he wasn't just clumsy, but something far worse — a burden, dead weight, unnecessary, useless… But as he approached his house, another voice echoed in the air.

— But we cannot change the past; we can only focus on what is happening now

As he neared his house, he suddenly noticed a familiar figure — Ice. He looked at Clumsy with slight surprise, and Clumsy tilted his head, looking back in confusion. Ice paused briefly, then shook his head and walked on, soon disappearing from view. Everything around began to return to normal: the village came alive, the voices of the Smurfs once again sounded in the distance, and behind him, Handy's shouts could be heard.

— Clumsy! Wait! — Handy yelled, trying to catch up with him. — Finally! What did Doctor say to you?

— Huh? Handy? — Clumsy croaked, turning back.

— Yes, it's me. Where were you going? — Handy asked warily.

— I don't know… Doctor said everything's fine, nothing serious — Clumsy croaked again, trying to hide the sadness that overwhelmed him after being diagnosed with tuberculosis. Handy, noticing the change in Clumsy's voice, frowned.

— Are you sure? I feel like you're not telling me everything — Handy said seriously, peering into Clumsy's face.

— Don't worry, Handy. Nothing serious — Clumsy tried to lie again, but a sudden fit of coughing betrayed him: he coughed, releasing more droplets of blood.

— «Nothing serious», huh? — Handy almost shouted, helping his friend cough. He gently patted Clumsy's back, trying to ease his condition. — Don't lie to me, Clumsy, I can see that it's something very serious.

— Don't… worry… Handy. I don't want… that — Clumsy muttered between coughs, feeling fear and confusion rise in his chest. A few moments later, the coughing subsided, and he wiped his mouth with his left hand, leaving red stains on his palm. Seeing Clumsy's condition, Handy stepped closer, placing a hand on Clumsy's shoulder, and looked gently into his eyes.

— Tell me the truth. I promise I won't be upset — Handy whispered confidently.

— Really? — Clumsy asked nervously, not believing that Handy truly meant it.

— Really — Handy assured him sincerely.

— Tuberculosis — Clumsy whispered, as if the word was too heavy to speak.

— Tuberculosis? What's that? — Handy asked, paling, instinctively stepping back as if the word itself could harm him.

— I don't know. Doctor said it's serious and that I should rest now — Clumsy answered, lowering his head, feeling a wave of hurt and despair fill him.

— So what about… what about mine… our project to build your new house?

— What about it? — Clumsy asked, confused, raising his gaze to meet Handy's insistent stare.

— Well… how are we supposed to build it without you? — Handy shook his head, trying to imagine building Clumsy's house without Clumsy himself.

— Oh… I could just stand nearby… and instead of me… we can ask Gutsy — Clumsy suggested, trying to sound optimistic, though inside, he was overwhelmed by helplessness.

— Are you sure? When we start building, there will be a lot of dust, and with that cough, it's not the best place for you to be — Handy replied worriedly.

— I'll stand far away — Clumsy tried to reassure him, but his voice still carried uncertainty.

— Alright — Handy agreed. — By the way, I already went to Timber, all the materials are ready and waiting near the spot you showed. We can start whenever you want.

— Great. How about… the day after tomorrow? — Clumsy brightened, feeling a small spark of hope rise within him. His voice was no longer as hoarse as it had been a few seconds ago.

— Okay, the day after tomorrow it is. In the meantime… we can take a walk around the village. Vexy also promised to show you her new dresses — Handy suggested, winking and trying to lift Clumsy's spirits.

Clumsy smiled slightly. A walk around the village sounded like a wonderful idea.

— Yes, let's. I'm curious to see what she's come up with — he agreed, though the anxiety still lingered. And by the way… you know what?

— What? — Handy asked, noticing Clumsy's mischievous look.

— Tomorrow is my… Smurf day! — Clumsy exclaimed happily, but the joy quickly turned into despair.

— Really? — Handy said, surprised. — Why didn't you tell me? That's so smurfy!

Clumsy, hearing his friend's excitement, felt his embarrassment grow. In the past, his Smurf day had been just another ordinary day that no one ever noticed. The Smurfs around him would joyfully celebrate their own Smurf days: decorating the village, throwing parties, but he had always remained in the shadows, apart from everyone else. Now, after saying the words himself, a small hope crept in that maybe this time things would be different.

— Well, it's… just a day — he mumbled, trying to hide his awkwardness. — Usually, no one pays attention to it. I don't even know why I remembered it.

Handy looked at Clumsy with sympathy and said:

— But you deserve a celebration, just like everyone else!

— And before? Did I deserve it then? — Clumsy asked, a note of bitterness in his voice.

— Of course!

— Then why didn't you notice? — Clumsy paused for a moment, looking at Handy in confusion. His eyes reflected a mix of emotions: he wanted to believe, but the past wouldn't let him. Handy hesitated, not knowing how to respond. His efforts to cheer Clumsy up suddenly felt futile.

— It just happened that way… — he mumbled, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

— It just happened? — Clumsy repeated sharply, but then immediately started coughing again, as if it was a punishment for his sharp words, words that his lungs didn't seem to like. — Sorry…

— It's okay — Handy said sympathetically, placing a hand on Clumsy's shoulder. — I understand it's not easy. We Smurfs sometimes get too caught up in our own lives and don't notice what's happening around us.

Clumsy looked into Handy's eyes, and in them, he saw sincerity, which calmed him a little.

— But others celebrated… and I didn't — Clumsy said after clearing his throat, still looking Handy in the eyes.

— That will change today. Tomorrow we'll throw you a party you'll remember for the rest of your life. Tomorrow will be your day, completely.

Clumsy felt something new stirring inside him — a light excitement. The thought of a party, even a distant one, brought him a flutter of anticipation. He recalled the Smurfs laughing and having fun, and for a moment, he felt lighter.

— Do you really think so? — he asked quietly.

— Absolutely! Everyone loves you, and you deserve it! — Handy said enthusiastically, walking alongside him. — Come on, cheer up, Clumsy! I'll organize everything!

— By the way, where did Papa Smurf go? You were with him, weren't you? — Clumsy asked.

— He said he had something to do in his lab, so he left me by Doctor's house — Handy replied.

— I see. So, is Vexy waiting for us?

— She should be. She was so eager to show you those dresses…

— Well then, let's go — Clumsy said, and they finally moved on.