That day, my life felt like it was falling apart. My fiancé had just called off our wedding, and I had lost my job for speaking up at work. Driving home through the storm, I kept telling myself that when one door closes, another opens—but the words felt hollow. Then, as a yellow school bus passed, I saw a little girl pounding on the back window, her face pressed against the glass, crying for help. My heart froze. Something was terribly wrong.
I chased the bus, forcing it to stop. Inside, I found the girl gasping for air, struggling through an asthma attack while other children laughed. They had hidden her inhaler as a cruel prank. Desperation took over as I searched every backpack until, finally, I found it. Her name was Chelsea, and as her breathing steadied, she whispered a quiet “thank you.” That single word meant more to me than anything I’d lost that day.