Stranger’s Kindness
A steady beep pulled Jasmine from the fog of unconsciousness. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the faint scent of antiseptic made her stomach churn. Slowly, she opened her eyes to find herself in an unfamiliar room. White walls. Machines. A hospital bed.
“Where am I?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse and scratchy.
“You’re awake,” a deep voice said, and her eyes flicked toward the source.
A man sat in the chair by her bed, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. He had dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and wore a leather jacket that gave him a rugged air.
“Who are you?” she asked, her throat burning with each word.
“Ethan Walker,” he said, standing up. “I found you yesterday. You were in a car accident.”
The words hit her like a jolt. She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her ribs, forcing her back down. “An accident?”
“Yes,” Ethan said. “Your car went off the road. I was driving by and saw the wreckage. You were unconscious, so I brought you here.”
She blinked at him, trying to piece everything together. Her memory was a blur—fragments of driving, the brakes failing, the sudden plunge…
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Ethan replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I just did what anyone would do.”
Jasmine wasn’t so sure. Most people wouldn’t stop for a stranger on an empty road. “Did the doctors say how bad it is?” she asked, gesturing weakly to her body.
“Mostly bruises and a mild concussion,” Ethan said, his tone calm but reassuring. “You’re lucky, though. It could’ve been much worse.”
Jasmine nodded, though the relief was short-lived. Something about this didn’t sit right. The brakes. They just…stopped working. Her heart raced as the memory resurfaced.
“Did they check the car?” she asked suddenly, her voice tinged with panic.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, but…” He hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. “I thought it was odd. The way the car crashed—it didn’t look like an accident. More like something failed.”
Her stomach twisted. “Failed?”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “My car was fine. I just had it serviced last month.”
Ethan studied her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Look, I wasn’t going to show you this yet, but I think you should see it.”
Confused, Jasmine took the phone from his outstretched hand. “What is it?”
“Watch,” he said simply.
The screen lit up with a grainy video. At first, it was hard to make out what was happening, but then she recognized the setting—it was her driveway. The timestamp showed the night before the accident.
The figure on the screen was unmistakable. Jenny.
Jasmine’s breath caught in her throat as she watched her sister crouch beside the car, fiddling with something near the wheels. Her hands were quick, her movements deliberate.
“No,” Jasmine whispered, shaking her head.
Ethan’s voice was calm but firm. “I had a feeling it wasn’t an accident, so I asked a friend to pull surveillance footage.”
“She…she tampered with my car,” Jasmine said, her voice cracking. “Jenny did this.”
Ethan didn’t say anything, letting the silence hang heavy between them.
