Rain battered my windshield as I drove home, the storms inside my heart worse than the one outside. My fiancé had broken off our wedding last week, and now I’d lost my job. I whispered, “There’s got to be another way.” But how could I tell Mom?
Her call warned me about the weather, and I forced a calm “I’ll be there soon.” My throat tightened as I clutched the wheel. Then, a school bus sped past—and inside, a little girl pounded the glass, clearly in distress.
Without thinking, I chased the bus, forcing it to a halt. Inside, children laughed while the girl sat crying. I knelt beside her, realizing she was having an asthma attack—and had no inhaler.
We frantically searched backpacks. Finally, in the third one, I found her inhaler. As she breathed again, I held her hand. The bus driver apologized for not noticing. The other kids fell silent.
As the girl, Chelsea, thanked me—two words more powerful than anything that day—I offered to stay until she was safe.
When Chelsea’s parents arrived, her wide-eyed introduction—“This is Mollie. She saved my life.”—shifted everything. Her mother offered to drive me back and then surprised me: they had a job opening at their small business and wanted to interview me. My heart, so heavy just hours before, already felt lighter.
The next morning, I called her. By afternoon, I had an interview—and hope. Because even the darkest of storms can open doors you never imagined.