6. A Stranger

{Nathan's Pov}

I hit the cold water with force as I dove in, swimming fast toward the woman crying out for help. Her voice was faint and broken by the sound of the storm as she disappeared beneath the surface again.

“Help me, please,” she gasped weakly, her voice barely audible before the river pulled her under once more.

I pushed forward, ignoring the cold that bit into my skin. The river raged against me, shoving me back, but I wouldn’t stop. Stretching out my hand, I reached for her. The current surged, nearly tearing her away, but I kicked harder, slicing through the water until my fingers finally closed around her arm.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure she could hear me over the roaring water.

With every muscle in my body screaming, I dragged her toward the shore. The river resisted, but I held on tight, refusing to let go until we reached the muddy bank.

Her body collapsed onto the wet ground, trembling violently. She dragged herself away from the water, curling into a ball as if trying to disappear. The sight of her, drenched and fragile, tore at my heart.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently, kneeling beside her.

She didn’t answer. Her tear-filled eyes stared at nothing, and the rain mixed with the streams on her face. The pain etched into her features was so raw it made my chest tighten. The pain she carried was so clear it was obvious in her eyes.

I placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, steadying her as she shook uncontrollably. “You’re freezing,” I said softly. “Can you stand?”

She nodded faintly, but the uncertainty in her gaze told me she wasn’t sure. I extended my hand, gripping hers firmly as I helped her to her feet. Her soaked clothes clung to her chubby frame, and she swayed on her feet, nearly collapsing again.

“You need to get warm,” I urged, guiding her toward a nearby bench beneath a tree. The meager shelter offered little relief, but it was better than standing in the rain.

She sank onto the bench slowly, looking lost. Her lips moved like she wanted to speak, but no words came. She just sat there, trembling, her eyes distant and filled with pain.

Crouching in front of her, I studied her face, searching for some clue to her pain. “What were you doing out there? What's your name?” I asked softly, keeping my tone as steady as I could.

Her gaze dropped to the ground, avoiding mine. She didn’t answer, but the heaviness of her silence spoke volumes. Whatever had brought her to that river, it had nearly consumed her.

Straightening, I glanced toward my car parked nearby. “Come on,” I said, offering her my hand again. “Let’s get you somewhere dry and figure out what’s next.”

For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. Fear and doubt lingered in her gaze, but then she reached out, her hand trembling as it touched mine. “Martha,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Nathan,” I replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile. I helped her up, keeping a firm grip on her arm as she wobbled unsteadily. The cold seemed to have seeped deep into her, and every step drained what little strength she had left.

We walked in silence toward the car. I opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. “It’s okay,” I said quietly. “You’re safe now.”

She hesitated before sliding into the seat, her movements slow and cautious. Once she was inside, I closed the door and hurried to the driver’s side. The car’s warmth filled the space, a stark contrast to the icy rain still pounding outside.

As I started the engine, I glanced at her. She wrapped her hands around tightly around her shoulders, her face turned toward the window as she rested her head against the glass. It was obvious that she was hurting and I couldn't ignore the curiosity of why she was.

“Why… why are you helping me?” she asked suddenly, her voice trembling.

I paused, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I considered her question. Turning to her, I met her gaze, speaking softly. “Because no one should feel like they’re out of options,” I said. “I don’t know what brought you to that river tonight, but whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone. I’ve been there.”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering in her tired gaze. She studied me for a moment, as though trying to see if I meant it, but I did.

I offered a faint smile. “Let’s get you somewhere warm and dry,” I added. “We’ll figure out the rest later.”

The rain continued to pour as I drove home. The rhythmic sound filled the silence between us, but my mind buzzed with questions. What had brought her to the river? What pain had pushed her so far?

Pulling into my driveway, I parked and quickly got out to open the door for her. She stepped out slowly, still trembling, her eyes filled with a quiet vulnerability that tugged at me..

“Don’t worry,” I assured her as we made our way inside. “Once we get in, you’ll feel warm.”

I unlocked the door and turned off the air conditioning as we stepped inside. “I’ll get you some dry clothes,” I said, heading upstairs. I grabbed a set of clothes from my closet and brought them down to her.

“Here,” I said, handing them to her. “Change into these.”

While she changed, I went to the kitchen to prepare tea. When I returned, she was seated on the couch, her frame still trembling slightly, though she looked warmer in the clothes I’d given her.

I handed her a cup of tea and sat across from her, the steam rising between us. She stared into the cup, lost in thought.

“You can stay here tonight,” I said gently. “In the morning, I’ll take you home.”

Her hands froze, and she lowered her gaze. Tears slid down her cheeks, and her voice broke as she whispered, “I… I have no home.”

Her words hit me like a blow. Sympathy welled up in me as I watched her wipe her tears away with trembling hands. I was tempted to ask her further, but staring at her, I realized my question would just hurt her more. I decided to keep my questions for later.

“You can stay here,” I said softly. “For as long as you want. I live alone, and if you feel ready to talk, I’ll be here to listen.”

Her gaze snapped up to meet mine, gratitude shining through her tears.