Driving home through rain, I was reeling from a broken engagement and losing my job for speaking out against unethical practices. My phone buzzed—Mom, worried about the storm. I reassured her, hiding my distress. Merging into traffic, I noticed a school bus. A little girl, Chelsea, banged on the back window, terrified. Heart racing, I chased the bus, honking. The driver ignored her distress. I cut the bus off, stormed aboard, and found Chelsea struggling to breathe—an asthma attack. The other kids laughed, having hidden her inhaler as a “joke.” I found it in a boy’s backpack, helped her use it, and stayed with her until she was safely with her parents. Furious
at the driver’s negligence, I ensured Chelsea’s safety. Her mother, Mrs. Stewart, drove me back to my car and, learning I’d lost my job, offered me an interview at her family’s business. The next day, I called her, hopeful. She thanked me for saving Chelsea, scheduling an interview. For the first time in weeks, I felt joy. A door had closed, but another opened, leading to unexpected hope.
