Driving home in the pouring rain, my mind was clouded with despair. My fiancé had called off our wedding, and just that morning, I’d lost my job for standing up to my bosses. The last thing I wanted was to face Mom and add to her worries.
As I gripped the wheel, trying to calm myself, a yellow school bus roared past. Suddenly, I noticed a little girl at the back window, pounding with tiny fists, her tear-streaked face pleading for help. My heart froze. Without thinking, I sped after the bus and forced it to stop.
Ignoring the furious driver, I rushed inside. Children laughed and shouted, but the girl was gasping for breath—an asthma attack. Her name tag read Chelsea. Desperate, I searched until I found her inhaler stuffed in another child’s backpack—“just a joke,” he muttered. Furious, I helped Chelsea breathe again as her color slowly returned.
Later, meeting her grateful parents, Chelsea’s mother offered me a job interview. For the first time in weeks, hope flickered inside me.
That night I realized: when one door closes, another truly opens.
