A kind stranger

Nathan’s POV

This night is fast turning out to be an interesting one, although I’m sure that the woman who is currently crying profusely and making a small scene in the restaurant doesn’t find it interesting in the least.

It’s hard not to feel a little sorry for her, especially because her husband is obviously such an asshole.

I eat my dinner slowly and continue to watch the drama unfold, and in the end, I’m shocked to see the woman’s husband leave with his mistress, instead of her.

People are watching the woman, who has sunk into a chair and is crying, with judgemental eyes, and it’s clear that they have misjudged the situation.

They clearly think that she’s the side piece, and the other woman who left with her husband is the wife, and with the way she acted so timidly, instead of putting her husband and his mistress in their place, it is no surprise that people think so.

“Damn it. She’s completely different from what I expected. I didn’t expect her to be so weak.” I mutter to myself, finishing up with my meal and leaving a large tip for the waiter.

Then I get up to leave because I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. This business trip is taking a whole lot out of me, but I'm nearing my goal as the days pass, and for that, I’m thankful.

I’m driving back to my office after a late breakfast the following morning when my phone starts to ring insistently.

A quick glance at the phone screen shows that it’s my assistant, Rachel, who’s calling, and when I answer, she gives me a most unexpected news that fills me with instant dread.

“Boss, I’m afraid we have some problems. It concerns the lady we’re working on.”

“What about her?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s just been involved in a car accident.” She tells me, effectively ruining my mood.

“What on earth? This can't be! Damn it! I haven’t obtained evidence yet. Nothing bad can happen to her. Goddamn it. Send me the location of the accident, so I can head there immediately.” I tell her.

She sends the location, and luckily, the scene of the accident isn’t too far from where I currently am, so I begin to head there immediately and arrive in no time.

From the skid marks on the ground and the marks her tires made, it is clear that the car eventually went down the somewhat steep incline in front of me.

By the time I finally arrive at the accident scene, two people, a man and a woman, are helping a dazed-looking Lucy. I let out a huge breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding, feeling immensely relieved.

“Has anyone called the cops yet?” I ask without preamble, checking out Lucy. She’s all in one piece, which is a very good thing.

Her car, on the other hand, is another story. It is almost completely destroyed, and the fact that she managed to come out of it with only a few bruises, at least from what I can see, is a miracle.

“Oh, thank goodness someone else saw the accident happen and came to help. That horrid person drove off after hitting her car. My husband and I were driving in the opposite lane when we saw her lose control of the vehicle, so we had to make a U-turn at the intersection and come in search of her. In our haste, though, we left our phones in our car, so no, we haven’t called the cops yet.” The woman, who looks to be in her early sixties, tells me.

“No, no cops, please. I can't deal with any of that right now. I’m okay. I just want to go home. Thank you all for coming to help. I’ll deal with all of this later.” Lucy says, her lower lip trembling as she stares at her totaled car.

“Oh, honey. There’s no need to cry, okay? You’re going to be just fine. If you want, my husband and I can take you to the hospital.”

“Oh, no. I can't impose on you any more than I already have. You should go to your grandson’s game. You said that you were already late for it, and I don’t want you to miss it on my account. Don’t worry, I’ll be just fine. I’ll order an Uber or something.” She tells the couple, and after they exchange a few more words with her, they leave, while I check out her car.

When I’m done, I find her watching me and crying silently. I’m at a loss as to what to say to her, but it doesn’t matter because she reaches into the car, picks up her phone, and taps on the screen.

Then to my utter surprise, she bursts into loud wracking sobs without warning. I reach out and pat her shoulder awkwardly, and at this point, she collapses against me, sobbing her heart out.

I hold her and cautiously rub her hair in a bid to comfort her, and we stay like that for several minutes, until I feel her begin to calm down, then I speak. 

“Is there anyone I can call for you, ma’am?”

“No, no. There’s no one. It’s just me. Please, if it’s no trouble, could you please drop me off at home? I thought I would be able to order an Uber, but when I checked my phone a few minutes ago, the screen was broken, so I can't do that. Or if it’s a bother, can I use your phone to order a ride when we climb back up?” She asks me as she finally pulls away.

She avoids my gaze, and I can tell that she’s embarrassed.

“Of course, I can drop you off. It’s not a problem at all. I don’t have anywhere pressing to be.” I reply immediately and ask her if she has anything else she wants to take in her car.

Her gaze hardens for a split second, and then she gives me a brief nod and goes to rummage in the destroyed car for some documents and her handbag.

Then I support her and we make the climb up the incline to where I parked my car.

It is after I open the passenger side for her to get in and I’m going over to the driver’s side that I notice a few strands of her long, dark hair, which are entwined in my fingers.

That must have happened when I rubbed her hair as I comforted her. I expertly remove the strands from my fingers and tuck them safely away so they won't get lost. They will come in handy later on.