I never thought I’d see him again. Not after all these years. Not after he saved my life that night in the snowstorm and vanished without a trace. But there he was, sitting in the subway station with his hands outstretched for change. The man who once saved me was now the one who needed saving.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring.
It reminded me of that very day. Of the biting cold, of my tiny, frozen fingers, and of the warmth of his rough hands guiding me to safety.
A little girl standing in forest | Source: Midjourney
I had spent years wondering who he was, where he had gone, and if he was even still alive.
And now, fate had placed him right in front of me again. But could I truly help him the way he once helped me?
***
I don’t have many memories of my parents, but I do remember their faces.
I clearly remember the warmth in my mother’s smile and the strength in my father’s arms. I also remember the night it all changed.
The night I learned they weren’t coming back.
A girl standing by a window | Source: Midjourney
I was only five years old when they died in a car accident, and back then, I didn’t even fully understand what death meant. I waited by the window for days, convinced they would walk through the door at any moment. But they never did.
Soon, the foster system became my reality.
I bounced from shelters to group homes to temporary families, never truly belonging anywhere.
Some foster parents were kind, others were indifferent, and a few were downright cruel. But no matter where I ended up, one thing remained the same.
I was alone.
An upset girl | Source: Midjourney
Back then, school was my only escape.
I buried myself in my books, determined to build a future for myself. I worked harder than anyone else, pushing past the loneliness and the uncertainty. And it paid off.
I earned a grant for college, then clawed my way through medical school, eventually becoming a surgeon.
Now, at 38, I have the life I fought for. I spend long hours at the hospital, performing life-saving operations, and barely stopping to catch my breath.
It’s exhausting, but I love it.
Surgeons in an operation theatre | Source: Pexels
Some nights, when I walk through my sleek apartment, I think about how proud my parents would be. I wish they could see me now, standing in an operating room, making a difference.
But there’s one memory from my childhood that never fades.
I was eight years old when I got lost in the woods.
It was a terrible snowstorm, the kind that blinds you, the kind that makes every direction look the same. I had wandered too far from the shelter I was staying in.
And before I knew it, I was completely alone.
A girl standing in the woods during a snowstorm | Source: Midjourney
I remember screaming for help. My tiny hands were stiff with cold, and my coat was too thin to protect me. I was terrified.
And then… he appeared.
I saw a man wrapped in layers of tattered clothing. His beard was dusted with snow, and his blue eyes were filled with concern.
A man standing in the woods | Source: Midjourney
When he found me shivering and terrified, he immediately scooped me up in his arms.
I remember how he carried me through the storm, shielding me from the worst of the wind. How he used his last few dollars to buy me hot tea and a sandwich at a roadside café. How he called the cops and made sure I was safe before slipping away into the night, never waiting for a thank you.
That was 30 years ago.
I never saw him again.
Until today.
People at a train station | Source: Pexels
The subway was packed with the usual chaos.
People were rushing to work while the street musician did his thing in the corner. I was exhausted after a long shift, lost in thought, when my eyes landed on him.
At first, I wasn’t sure why he looked familiar. His face was hidden beneath a scruffy gray beard, and he was wearing tattered clothes. His shoulders were slumped forward as if life had worn him down.
As I walked toward him, my gaze landed on something very familiar.
A tattoo on his forearm.
An anchor tattoo | Source: Midjourney
It was a small, faded anchor that immediately reminded me of the day I got lost in the woods.
I looked at the tattoo then back at the man’s face, trying my best to remember if it was really him. The only way I could confirm it was by talking to him. And that’s what I did.
“Is it really you? Mark?”
He looked up at me, trying to study my face. I knew he wouldn’t recognize me because I was just a child the last time he saw me.
A man sitting at a subway station | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. “You saved me. Thirty years ago. I was eight years old, lost in the snow. You carried me to safety.”
That’s when his eyes widened in recognition.
“The little girl…” he said. “In the storm?”
I nodded. “Yes. That was me.”
Mark let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I sat down next to him on the cold subway bench.
“I never forgot what you did for me.” I hesitated before asking, “Have you been… living like this all these years?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he scratched his beard and looked away. “Life has a way of kicking you down. Some people get back up. Some don’t.”
At that point, my heart broke for him. I knew I couldn’t just walk away.
“Come with me,” I said. “Let me buy you a meal. Please.”
He hesitated, his pride keeping him from accepting, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Eventually, he nodded.
A man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
We went to a small pizza place nearby, and the way he ate told me he hadn’t had a good meal in years. I blinked back tears as I watched him. No one should have to live like this, especially not someone who once gave everything to help a lost little girl.
After dinner, I took him to a clothing store and bought him warm clothes. He protested at first, but I insisted.
“This is the least I can do for you,” I told him.
He finally accepted, running a hand over the coat as if he had forgotten what warmth felt like.
A rack with coats and jackets | Source: Pexels
But I wasn’t done helping him yet.
I took him to a small motel on the outskirts of the city and rented a room for him.
“Just for a while,” I assured him when he hesitated. “You deserve a warm bed and a hot shower, Mark.”
He looked at me with something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite comprehend. I think it was gratitude. Or maybe disbelief.
“You don’t have to do all this, kid,” he said.
“I know,” I said softly. “But I want to.”
The next morning, I met Mark outside the motel.
A motel sign | Source: Pexels
His hair was still damp from the shower, and he looked like a different man in his new clothes.
“I want to help you get back on your feet,” I said. “We can renew your documents, get you a place to stay long-term. I can help.”
Mark smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I appreciate that, kid. I really do. But I don’t have much time left.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He exhaled slowly, looking out toward the street. “Doctors say my heart’s giving out. Not much they can do. I feel it, too. I won’t be around much longer.”
A man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
“No. There has to be something—”
He shook his head. “I’ve made peace with it.”
Then he gave me a small smile. “There’s just one thing I’d love to do before I go. I want to see the ocean one last time.”
“Alright,” I managed to say. “I’ll take you. We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”
The ocean was about 350 miles away, so I had to take a day off from the hospital. I asked Mark to come over to my place the next day so we could drive there together, and he did.
But just as we were about to leave, my phone rang.
A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
It was the hospital.
“Sophia, we need you,” my colleague said urgently. “A young girl just came in. Severe internal bleeding. We don’t have another available surgeon.”
I looked at Mark as I ended the call.
“I—” My voice caught. “I have to go.”
Mark gave me a knowing nod. “Of course you do. Go save that girl. That’s what you were meant to do.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But we’ll still go, I promise.”
He smiled. “I know, kid.”
A man smiling while talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
I rushed to the hospital. The surgery was long and grueling, but it was successful. The girl survived. I should have felt relieved, but all I could think about was Mark.
As soon as I was done, I drove straight back to the motel. My hands trembled as I knocked on his door.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
A sinking feeling settled in my stomach as I asked the motel clerk to unlock the door.
When it opened, my heart shattered.
A doorknob | Source: Pexels
Mark was lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his face peaceful. He was gone.
I stood there, unable to move. I couldn’t believe he was gone.
I had promised to take him to the ocean. I had promised.
But I was too late.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered as tears streamed down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry for being late…”
***
I never got to take Mark to the ocean, but I ensured he was buried by the shore.
Waves on the shore at sunset time | Source: Pexels
He’s gone from my life forever, but one thing he has taught me is to be kind. His kindness saved my life 30 years ago, and now, I carry it forward.
In every patient I heal, every stranger I help, and every problem I try to solve, I carry Mark’s kindness with me, hoping to give others the same compassion he once showed me.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
After a Call from a Stranger, a Woman’s Recent Love Story Turns Into a Drama – Story of the Day
“All men are liars.” With these words, Violet ended her radio program. Her life experiences and the countless stories she heard from her listeners had proven it. But, a date with a coworker made her question her belief. After a call from a stranger, she was convinced she had been right all along.
Violet sat comfortably in her chair, leaning slightly toward the microphone in the cozy, dimly lit studio of a local radio station.
The equipment’s soft hum and the faint buzz of the control board’s lights cast a warm, golden glow across the room.
Opposite her was James, her co-host, his posture more relaxed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as they listened to the voice crackling through the speakers.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“He’s pulling away from me…” Susan’s voice trembled, and a muffled sob came through.
“I don’t know what to do. We barely talk anymore. I never thought I’d turn to a radio show for advice, but I don’t have anyone else who’ll listen.”
Violet adjusted her headphones, her expression softening.
“Don’t worry, Suzy, right? That’s your name?”
Her voice was calm, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, offering comfort through the static.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, it’s Susan,” the caller confirmed, her breath hitching.
“Well, Suzy, that’s why we have this segment—to help people like you with relationship struggles. Thank you for sharing your story. It’s brave of you.”
Susan hesitated before asking, “So… what do you think I should do, Violet?”
Violet straightened in her chair, her tone sharp yet controlled.
“The same thing I always say—forget him. He’s either cheating on you or stringing you along. Either way, you deserve better.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James’s head snapped up, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Violet, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could be anything—stress at work, personal issues. Maybe he doesn’t know how to communicate.”
Violet gave him a sidelong glance.
“Or maybe he has a mistress,” she said dryly. “Let’s not sugarcoat it. All men are liars.”
The tension hung for a moment, but Violet quickly turned back to the microphone, her professional smile firmly in place.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks for tuning in, folks. Enjoy the next song.” She flipped the switch, cutting their microphones.
Music filled the studio, and Violet leaned back, the faintest smirk playing on her lips.
James, however, shook his head slightly, unsure whether to push back or let it slide.
The studio lights dimmed slightly as the end-of-shift silence settled over the room.
Violet gathered her things—her notebook, headphones, and an oversized scarf she draped over her shoulder.
She moved with her usual efficiency, but her mind was already on the comfort of home and a hot cup of tea.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James lingered by the console, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
His usual easygoing demeanor seemed absent, replaced by a noticeable nervousness. Finally, he stepped closer, clearing his throat.
“You were ruthless with men today, as usual,” he said, flashing her a sheepish grin. His attempt at humor was met with a raised eyebrow.
Violet paused and glanced at him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve been here six months, James,” she replied flatly. “I thought you’d have figured out by now what our audience expects.”
“So, it’s just for ratings, then?” James asked, tilting his head.
“You don’t actually believe all that?”
Violet shrugged, her expression unreadable.
“I never said that. What do you want, James? I was about to head home.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Well, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask…” His words trailed off as his confidence wavered.
“Spit it out,” Violet said, smirking slightly, amused by his awkwardness. “Talking is supposed to be your job.”
He chuckled nervously, his face flushing. “Would you, um… like to go on a date with me?”
“A date?” Violet blinked, caught off guard. “Like a date-date?”
“Yes. Exactly. There’s a great place nearby I think you’d like.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Violet hesitated, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “James, you know I’m not big on dating.”
“Because you think all men are liars, right?” James teased. His tone was light but daring. “Let me prove that not all of us are that bad. Some of us are mostly honest.”
“Mostly?” Violet repeated, laughing despite herself. “Fine. But don’t expect miracles.”
“That’s good enough for me,” James said, his grin widening as he grabbed his coat.
The small restaurant felt like a hidden gem, the kind of place you’d never stumble upon unless someone showed you.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Candlelight flickered on every table, casting warm, golden hues across the room while the smooth notes of live jazz wove through the air.
The musicians, tucked into a corner, played as though they were part of the room’s heartbeat, their gentle melodies making the space feel alive yet soothing.
James pulled out a chair for Violet, his movements natural, unforced. Violet raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help a small smile as she sat down.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” she teased.
“Well, I try,” James said with a grin, taking his seat across from her.
Violet glanced around, taking in the cozy surroundings.
“This place is charming,” she admitted. “I didn’t know spots like this still existed.”
“Judging by that look on your face, you don’t go to places like this often,” James said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t go on dates often, that’s for sure,” Violet replied, smoothing the napkin on her lap.
“Really? Hard to believe. A radio host and such a beauty? You must have admirers.”
Violet’s cheeks turned pink, and she waved him off.
“Stop it. I used to date, but I gave it up a long time ago. It always felt like a waste of time.”
James tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why’s that?”
Violet hesitated before answering.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“After dealing with betrayal, lies, and hearing all those stories on the show… It’s hard to believe in love anymore.”
James’s expression softened.
“Well,” he said gently, “not all of us are so bad.”
“Every man says that,” Violet sighed, leaning back in her chair.
James chuckled but didn’t push further. Instead, he started sharing a story about his childhood, painting vivid pictures of his clumsy adventures that left Violet laughing.
The conversation shifted naturally from funny anecdotes to deeper reflections about their lives.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Violet found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected, her guard lowering with each shared laugh.
“See?” James said, grinning as she wiped away tears of laughter. “Not so bad spending time with me, is it?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Violet replied, though her smile betrayed her words.
James stood, gesturing toward the restroom. “I’ll be right back. But I want to hear the rest of your story about the bird when I get back.”
“Hurry up, or I’ll forget it,” Violet called after him, still chuckling as she sipped her water.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her phone buzzed on the table, interrupting her thoughts.
She frowned at the unfamiliar number and hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, this is Jane,” a hesitant voice said on the other end.
“Sorry to call so late, but James hasn’t come home, and your number was the only one I could find. Is he with you?”
“Jane?” Violet asked, her voice suddenly tight. “Are you his sister?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Sister? No, I’m his girlfriend,” Jane replied sharply, the words cutting through the air like a knife.
Violet froze, the warmth of the evening draining away. Her heart pounded as Jane’s words echoed in her ears.
Without responding, she hung up, her hands trembling.
She grabbed her bag, scarf, and coat and walked briskly out of the restaurant, leaving behind the candlelight, the music, and the man she thought might have been different.
The next day at the radio station, Violet entered the studio with her usual brisk stride, her scarf loosely draped around her neck.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her expression, however, was anything but usual. It was cold, distant—like a door slammed shut.
She avoided eye contact with James, who was already at the control board, adjusting levels and humming softly to himself.
“Hey, Violet,” James called out, his voice light. He looked up with a smile, but it faltered when she breezed past him without so much as a glance.
“I was worried about you last night. You left so suddenly. I tried calling you—”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m fine,” Violet cut in, her tone sharp and clipped. She didn’t stop moving, setting her bag down with deliberate force.
James frowned, taking a cautious step toward her.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked hesitantly, his voice quieter now.
“You tell me,” she snapped, finally meeting his eyes, her glare icy. “Or maybe ask Jane.”
The name hit him like a slap, and his brow furrowed. “Jane? How do you know her?”
“Your girlfriend called me,” she said icily. “She wanted to know when you’d be home. Don’t worry—I didn’t keep you too long.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Violet, wait—” James started, his hands raised as if to stop the invisible storm brewing between them.
“One more word,” Violet interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade, “and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
James froze, his mouth half-open, then closed it. He nodded stiffly and returned to his seat, his shoulders slumping slightly.
The day dragged on in frosty silence.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
By mid-afternoon, Violet noticed something strange. James didn’t look like a man caught in a lie; he looked genuinely upset.
His face was pale, his expression distant, as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders.
Curiosity gnawed at her. By the end of the day, she found herself following him as he left the building.
Near the station’s entrance, a young woman stood waiting. Her arms were crossed, her expression a mix of anger and desperation.
“James! We need to talk!” the woman shouted, stepping closer.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James stopped abruptly and sighed. “We’ve got nothing to talk about, Jane,” he said, his voice firm but weary. “I’ve told you before—we’re done. It has been months! Why won’t you let it go already!?”
“But I love you! No one else will ever love you the way I do! Even that coworker of yours!” Jane cried, her voice breaking.
“Enough!” James snapped. “Because of the lies you told her, Violet won’t even look at me. I’ve had it, Jane. Stay out of my life.”
Jane burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she pleaded one last time, but James didn’t budge.
Finally, she climbed into her car and drove away, leaving James standing alone. He sank onto the building’s steps, burying his face in his hands.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Violet hesitated before stepping forward. “James…” she said quietly. “I heard everything.”
He looked up, his eyes tired but calm. “Now you know what I was trying to explain,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said softly, her voice filled with genuine regret. “But can you blame me for assuming the worst?”
“No. But not only men can lie as you can see.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She managed a faint smile, her defenses softening.
“Maybe not. Should we give this another try?”
James straightened, a hint of hope returning to his face.
“Why not?” he replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. “After all, tonight’s already been full of surprises.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Every year, Sarah had to devise a new excuse to explain to her family why they wouldn’t be visiting. “I won’t miss a single-family holiday because of your parents!” her husband Peter always insisted. But this time, Sarah stood her ground and defended her family values.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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