I was driving home when I noticed a small girl on a school bus banging on the back glass in terror. My entire universe came to a stop. Something was horribly wrong. But what danger could a young child face on a seemingly safe school bus? I chased the bus to find out, but my heart skipped a beat.

As I drove home, the rain pounded my windshield, matching the sorrow in my heart. This had to be the worst day of my life. First, my fiancé cancelled our wedding last week, and now I’d lost my job. My mind was a jumbled mess of ideas and feelings…

“Stay calm, Mollie,” I said to myself, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “There’s got to be another way. If one door closes, another opens, right?”

However, the words felt empty. How could I go home and inform Mom that I had been laid off?

She would worry herself ill. She’d been my rock since Dad’s dєαth, and I didn’t want to let her down.

My phone vibrated for the fifth time. Mom again. I drove over to the curb and responded.

“Yeah, Mom, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m driving…”

“Mollie, honey, have you seen the weather forecast? There’s a big storm coming. Please be careful.”

I swallowed hard. This storm was minor compared to the one raging within me.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”

“Is everything okay? You sound off.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Just… tired. I gotta drive, okay? Love you,” I hung up, my throat tight.

How could I tell her I had lost my job simply for speaking up to the bosses? They’d used the excuse of “not meeting quarterly targets,” but I knew the actual reason.

“What’s the worst that could happen now?” I muttered, putting the car back in gear.

Little did I realize that I was about to find out.

As I returned to traffic, a yellow school bus roared passed me. Something caught my sight in the back window: a little girl with her face plastered against the glass and her tiny hands banging furiously. She cried out for aid.

“What the…? Oh my God… is she alright?” I gasped.

Without thinking, I revved the engine and raced after the bus. The toddler was obviously distressed, but why? What risk may she face on an apparently safe school bus?

“I’m coming, hold on, sweetie,” I mumbled, honking my horn repeatedly.

The bus driver seemed clueless, driving along the road as if nothing was happening. Panic rose in my chest, and I made a snap decision. I swerved around the bus and cut in front, bringing it to a halt in the middle of the busy road.

The driver, a large man with a thick black mustache, stormed out. “What kinda stunt are you pulling, lady? You coulda caused an accident!”

I ignored him, raced by, and boarded the bus. The cacophony struck me like a wall. The children gathered around the girl, shouting and laughing.

I dashed to the back, where the small girl sat alone, her face now flushed and tear-stained. As I approached her, I froze. This was not what I expected at all.

“Oh my God! Are you having an asthma attack?”

The tiny girl nodded furiously, her chest heaving as she battled to breathe. I knelt near her seat, my heart pounding.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

She pointed to the ID card that hung around her neck. Her name was Chelsea.

“Okay, Chelsea, we’re gonna get you help. Where’s your inhaler?”

Chelsea shook her head, unable to communicate. I looked up and saw that the driver had followed me, his face pallid.

“Do you know where her inhaler is?”

He shook his head. “I… I didn’t even know she was having trouble. It’s so noisy back here, I couldn’t hear anything.”

I choked back an angry response and began searching Chelsea’s backpack. Nothing. Panic gripped at my insides as I noticed the tiny girl’s lips grow blue.

“Help me look!” I shouted at the driver.

We looked under the seats, down the aisle, and anywhere we could think of. To my astonishment, I noticed the other kids were laughing, with some even pointing at Chelsea.

“This isn’t funny!” I snapped at them. “She needs help!”

That’s when it struck me. I started snatching all of their backpacks, despite their protests.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” a freckle-faced boy yelled.

I discovered it in the third bag I checked: a blue inhaler bearing Chelsea’s name on it. I rounded on the boy who owned the backpack.

“Why do you have this?”

He looked away, muttering, “It was just a joke.”

“A joke? She could have ᴅɪᴇᴅ!”

I dashed back to Chelsea and helped her use the inhaler. Her breathing gradually became more regular, and the color returned to her face. I held her hand and said soothing words while she recovered.

The driver stood there wringing his hands. “I’m so sorry. “I had no idea.”

I turned to him, my anger flaring. “These kids are your responsibility! You should’ve checked what was going on when you heard a commotion!”

He nodded, shame-faced. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Chelsea tugged at my sleeve, her voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Those two sentences struck me harder than everything else I had experienced that day. I could not leave her alone after this.

“I’m staying with you until we get you home, okay?”

Chelsea nodded, a faint smile on her tear-stained face.

I turned to the driver. “I’m going to move my car and ride with her. Is that okay?”

He nodded quickly. “Of course. It’s the least we can do after… well, everything.”

As I stepped off the bus to take my car to the nearby parking lot, I noticed my hands shaking. What a day that turned out to be.

Back on the bus, I sat next to Chelsea, a soothing arm across her shoulders. The other kids were unusually silent now, as the gravity of what had transpired had fully set in.

“Why didn’t the other kids help you?” I asked gently.

Chelsea’s lower lip trembled. “They think it’s funny when I can’t breathe. They hide my inhaler sometimes.”

My heart broke for her. “That’s not okay, Chelsea. You know that, right?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands. “I try to be brave, but sometimes I get so scared.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “You were incredibly brave today. You got my attention when you needed help. That takes a lot of courage.”

A small smile played on her lips. “Really?”

“Really. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Two stops later, Chelsea pointed out the window. “That’s my mommy and daddy!”

Chelsea’s parents came over to greet us as we got off the bus, their faces filled with confusion.

“Chelsea, who’s this?” her mother asked, eyeing me warily.

Chelsea’s voice was stronger now as she said, “This is Mollie. She saved my life.”

Chelsea’s parents’ responses ranged from confusion to appreciation to anger at the bus driver, the other kids, and the event as a whole.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Chelsea’s father said, tearing up.

“I’m just glad I was there to help.”

Mrs. Stewart, Chelsea’s mother, insisted on driving me back to the car. As we arrived in the mall parking lot, the skies opened up and rain fell in sheets.

“So, Mollie,” Mrs. Stewart said, peering at me through the rain-streaked windshield, “what do you do?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Funny you should ask. I actually lost my job today.”

Mrs. Stewart’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”

I sighed, the events of the day washing over me again. “I spoke up about some unethical practices. They didn’t like that, so they found an excuse to let me go.”

Mrs. Stewart was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You know, my husband and I run a small business. We might have an opening. Would you be interested in coming in for an interview?”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard her correctly. “Are you serious?”

She smiled. “Absolutely. Anyone who’d go to such lengths to help a child in need is someone I’d like to have on my team.”

As we approached my car, the rain had reduced to a sprinkle. Mrs. Stewart handed me a business card.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll set something up.”

I clutched the card, a spark of hope igniting in my chest. “Thank you. I will.”

The next morning, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. I told Mom everything that had happened. About losing my work, saving Chelsea, a possible new chance… everything.

She had hugged me tightly, pride showing in her eyes.

“I always knew you were meant for great things, darling!”

As I rang the number on Mrs. Stewart’s card, my heart raced again, but with excitement rather than terror.

“Hello, Mollie,” Mrs. Stewart’s warm voice came through the phone. “I’m so glad you called. How would you feel about coming in for an interview this afternoon?”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “I’d love to. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“No, Mollie,” she said, and I could practically hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you. You saved our daughter. This is the least we can do.”

As I hung up the phone, I felt tears well up in my eyes. But for the first time in a long time, the tears were ones of joy rather than despair.

I was overjoyed and recognized that it is true: When God closes one door, He always opens another. And sometimes that new door takes you to places you never dreamed.