A Night When Fate Turned Twice

It was a late and bitterly cold night. I was walking with a heavy burden of despair on my back, each step more difficult than the last. I had moved forward for a long time, sometimes even reaching dead ends, and walking alone through the darkness of night was far from pleasant. Loneliness had become the only word that truly described me.

But the moment the beam of the cemetery lamp struck her gravestone, I forgot that I was the loneliest person in the world.

I sat beside her stone and spoke for a long time, trying to escape my thoughts, to silence the memories, to wash away the bitterness that had stuck to me. But guilt sat on my chest like a weight, crushing and refusing to let me live. I couldn’t even look at her stone anymore. I felt unworthy of even a simple visit.

I walked away, and every step that distanced me from her felt like another rock thrown into the pile of grief I carried. Lost in my thoughts, I was pulled back into reality by a sharp flashing light: the high beams of a car turning on and off.

The car drove up slowly. It was a taxi. Strange, at this hour, in a place like this.

The driver rolled down the window and called, “Hey brother, get in. It’s freezing. Nobody should be out here alone this time of night.”

I told him, “Thanks, but I don’t want to, and even if I did, I have no money.”

He stepped out of the taxi, opened the door, and said, “Forget that nonsense. What are you going to lose with pride? I’m not one of those drivers who charge everyone for everything. I can’t leave someone alone in this cold. My conscience won’t allow it.”

He was an older man with a worn brown coat and a graying beard. He helped me walk, realizing I was limping.

I warned him. “My destination is far… very far. And I still don’t have money.”

He gave me a look and simply said, “Sit. It’s late.”

I got in. His old Peugeot looked tired but well cared for, a car with a history. I imagined the life and lessons it must have carried.

He started driving and glanced over. “I’ve seen you before. Some nights you walk this road alone. I couldn’t leave you here like this. So tell me… why are you out here in the middle of the night?”

I wanted to shrug him off with a cold answer… but then something in me loosened. Maybe talking would lighten the weight a little.

“My life changed two years ago,” I told him. “Not in a pleasant way. If you really want to hear something sad, I’ll tell you. If not, just drop me off at my stop.”

He chuckled. “First tell me where you’re going.”

“Shoosh Square.”

“Well then, we have plenty of time. Maybe telling your story will keep you awake, and keep me from falling asleep behind the wheel.”

I hesitated, then started.

“You remember when the stock market was booming a few years ago? Everyone was making money.”

He nodded. “I remember. I stayed out of it.”

“Good choice. I wasn’t that wise. I had a good job, a good life, and a wonderful wife. We had a daughter too… and she was everything. Back then, I earned a lot from the market, but the work and stress slowly pulled me away from my family.

Then my wife’s cancer, which had been harmless, suddenly turned aggressive. Even the doctors were shocked. Treatment could help her, so I quit my job to stay at her side. We paid for everything from my investments. Life was hard, but manageable. Our daughter studied in a good school and was at the top of her class.

Then a friend convinced me to put all my money into a small company stock that he swore would make me rich. I listened. I sold almost everything... except our car, because my wife loved it too much.

Months later, the stock market crashed. The company went bankrupt. And I went with it.

We had no money left. I spent what remained on her treatments… until even that ran out. My wife grew worse. We had to stop chemotherapy, and with nowhere else to go, we placed our hope in God.

She didn’t make it.”

I stopped speaking. My throat burned. Tears collected before I could stop them.

The driver didn’t interrupt. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady.

“That’s a heavy grief. I can’t claim I know your pain. But you still have your daughter. She needs you. You need her.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But I blame myself. If I hadn’t been greedy, she would still be alive.”

He took a slow breath and said, “Maybe you made mistakes. Everyone does. But your wife’s time was set. Life pressures are endless, and some people just reach their limits. She is at peace now. You must start over for your daughter’s sake. Your ‘Rana girl,’ as you call her.”

His words warmed something inside me.

Then he nodded toward the floor. “Look down. What do you see?”

I looked. “Nothing. A few ants. Strange to see ants inside a car.”

He smiled. “Ants are symbols of work, rebuilding, moving forward. Maybe they showed up to tell you something.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. I’ll take the sign.”

We both laughed together. For the first time in a long while, something inside me felt lighter.

Then he lifted a food container from beside him. “My wife packed two pieces of boiled corn this morning. I forgot to eat them. One is for you. Food should never be eaten alone.”

I agreed—until the container slipped from his hand. He leaned forward to grab it, and in that moment…

He hit someone.

We jumped out of the car in panic.

And when I saw who was lying on the ground, the world shattered.

I screamed, “No… God, no… Rana!”

My daughter. My only child. She had come to visit her mother’s grave.

She was alive, barely. Breathing weakly, too pale, too still. The driver, shaking, called an ambulance. The sirens filled the night, and the world turned into a blur of red and blue light.

They lifted her onto a stretcher. I climbed in beside her, held her cold hand, and whispered the only words I could still form:

“You have to stay, Rana. I need you. Stay.”

Hours later, I found myself alone in a white hospital corridor, waiting. Not for a miracle, just for one small act of mercy.

Maybe, this time, fate would show a little kindness.