Emma was driving when the stone hit the windshield. CRACK.
A spiderweb of fractures spread across the glass.
“What the hell?!” Emma slammed the brakes.
On the sidewalk stood a woman in her fifties. Matted gray hair. Torn clothes. Dirt-streaked face. She held another stone, arm raised.
“Drive! GO!” Marcus shouted from the passenger seat.
“She just—”
“DRIVE! NOW!”
The woman threw the second stone. It bounced off the hood.
Emma hit the gas. The car lurched forward.
In the rearview mirror, Emma saw the woman standing in the street, screaming something inaudible.
“What was that about?” Emma asked, heart pounding.
Marcus’s face was pale. “Just some crazy homeless person. Keep driving.”
“She targeted us specifically—”
“It happens in this neighborhood. Just drive.”
But something in Marcus’s voice was wrong. Too tight. Too panicked.
Emma drove to Marcus’s apartment in silence.
That night, she couldn’t stop thinking about the woman’s face. The rage in her eyes. The desperation.
The next morning, Emma drove back to that street alone.
The woman was there, sitting on a bench, holding a cardboard sign: “BETRAYED AND FORGOTTEN.”
Emma parked and approached cautiously. “Excuse me. Yesterday, you threw a stone at my car—”
The woman’s head snapped up. Recognition flashed across her face. “You’re with him.”
“With who?”
“Marcus.” The woman’s voice cracked. “Marcus Rivera.”
Emma’s stomach dropped. “How do you know his name?”
The woman laughed bitterly. “I was married to him for twenty-two years.”
Emma stepped back. “What?”
“I’m Linda. Linda Rivera.” The woman stood, unsteady. “We were married. Had a house. I worked as an accountant. Everything was fine. Until I got laid off.”
Emma’s mind raced. Marcus had never mentioned being married.
“I lost my job three years ago,” Linda continued. “The firm downsized. I fell into depression. Couldn’t find work. Marcus said he’d support us while I recovered.”
“What happened?”
“Six months later, he filed for divorce. Said I was ‘dragging him down.’ He got the house—his name was on the deed. I got nothing. No alimony because we had a prenup I’d signed when I was young and stupid.”
Emma felt sick.
“I couldn’t afford rent. Ended up in a shelter. Then on the streets.” Linda’s eyes filled with tears. “I tried to reach him. Begged for help. He blocked my number. Changed his address. Erased me.”
“Why throw stones at the car?”
“Because I’ve been looking for him for two years. Yesterday was the first time I saw him. In that car. With you. Looking happy.” Linda’s voice broke. “While I’m living on the street.”
Emma’s hands shook. “He told me he’d never been married.”
“Of course he did.” Linda laughed bitterly. “He wants to forget I exist.”
Emma pulled out her phone. “Where are you staying?”
“Wherever I can.”
“Come with me.”
Emma took Linda to a diner. Bought her food. Listened to her story.
Linda had been a successful accountant. Owned her home before meeting Marcus. But she’d put his name on the deed after marriage—a gesture of trust.
When she lost her job, the depression was crushing. Marcus had been supportive at first. Then cold. Then gone.
He’d divorced her, taken the house, and disappeared.
Linda had no family. No safety net. She’d spiraled into homelessness.
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said.
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t know.” Linda looked at her. “But now you do. What will you do?”
Emma drove Linda to a women’s shelter and paid for a month’s stay. Then she went to Marcus’s apartment.
“We need to talk,” Emma said when he opened the door.
“About what?”
“About Linda.”
Marcus’s face went white. “What about her?”
“That ‘crazy homeless person’ is your wife. Your EX-wife that you forgot to mention.”
“She’s not—that’s complicated—”
“You left her homeless!” Emma’s voice rose. “She lost her job and you divorced her and took everything!”
“She was depressing! Always crying, always negative—”
“She was DEPRESSED! She needed help!”
“I’m not her therapist!” Marcus shot back. “I’m not responsible for her mental health!”
“You’re responsible for not leaving your wife of twenty-two years HOMELESS!”
“The prenup was legal—”
“Legal doesn’t mean moral!” Emma stared at him. “You erased her. Pretended she never existed.”
“I moved on. People do that.”
“People don’t leave their spouses on the street to starve.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened. “What do you want me to do? Give her money? She’ll just waste it—”
“I want you to be a decent human being!”
“I don’t owe her anything.”
Emma looked at the man she’d been dating for eight months. Really looked at him.
“If you could do this to her,” Emma said quietly, “you could do this to me.”
“That’s different—”
“Is it? If I lose my job? Get sick? Become inconvenient?” Emma grabbed her purse. “You’ll erase me too.”
“Emma, wait—”
“We’re done.” She walked to the door. “And I’m going to help Linda. Whether you like it or not.”
Emma left.
Over the next months, Emma helped Linda get back on her feet. Found her a room in a shared apartment. Helped her apply for jobs. Connected her with a therapist.
Linda slowly rebuilt her life. Got a part-time bookkeeping job. Started smiling again.
“Why are you doing this?” Linda asked one day.
“Because someone should have.” Emma squeezed her hand. “And because I saw my future if I’d stayed with him.”
Marcus tried contacting Emma. Sent flowers. Apology texts.
She blocked him.
Two years later, Linda had a full-time job. Her own apartment. Stability.
She never forgave Marcus. Never reached out. Never looked back.
“He doesn’t deserve forgiveness,” Linda told Emma. “He showed me who he was. I believe him.”
Emma nodded. “Good.”
They’d become friends. Real friends. Built from shared understanding and mutual support.
Marcus had thought he could erase his past. Pretend Linda never existed.
But the stone through the windshield had exposed everything.
And the woman he’d discarded had found an ally in the girlfriend he thought he’d fooled.
Some betrayals are unforgivable.
Some debts can’t be paid.
But sometimes, the person who saves you isn’t the one who hurt you.
It’s the stranger who stopped to listen.
