Late for an important meeting, a businesswoman rescued an old man in a rusty wreck. But when she saw the scar on his arm, she was shocked to realize who was in front of her.
#storiesfromthebox #cautionarytale #liveyourbestlife #sadstory #familystory #kindstory #sadlovestory #audiostory #amazingstory #lifestory
Iris drove her brand-new car through the city center, singing along to the radio. The singer crooned about love, fidelity, and separation from her beloved.
This theme always touched the deepest strings of Iris's kind soul, though fate had deprived her of true love and fidelity.
But for now, she was rushing to meet a potential client, so her mood was quite high.
There was a traffic jam at the exit from the bridge to the wide avenue.
"Ten o'clock in the morning, four-lane road, not rush hour, and how could there be a traffic jam? I don't want to be late!" Iris said worriedly and got out of the car.
Several cars ahead, a huge man with a bald head and bulldog face was arguing loudly with an elderly frail man sitting behind the wheel of an old wrecking car.
"You made a sharp left without signaling! How could I have anticipated such a maneuver? There's a sign here - turning left is forbidden," the elderly man tried to justify himself.
"Do you have a video recorder? So how do you prove it? Let's not call the police. Just pay for my repairs and go on your way. You don't have insurance; it could cost you a lot of money," the brazen man in the SUV started to threaten.
"Oh, come on!" Iris intervened in the dispute, looking very convincing. "Look, your SUV is facing left, blocking both lanes.
Moreover, the turn was made against a forbidden sign and from the rightmost lane; otherwise, how do you explain the car's position? The bumper's scratched right at the bend on the left.
Do you think anyone would believe that an old Ford could turn a two-ton SUV around with a light touch?"
Iris suddenly took out several large bills from her purse and put them into the large hand of a bulb man with a bulldog-like face. "I hope this will be enough to fix the bumper.
Please stop arguing, people are rushing, especially me. Otherwise, I'll call my lawyer, and we'll see who's right and who's wrong!"
The driver of the SUV wanted to object, but Iris's resolute speech and his own guilt in the accident stopped him from further proceedings and threats against the old taxi driver. He silently got into his huge car and drove away.
"My darling! I'll give you everything," whispered the unhappy elderly man, almost in tears.
He took Iris's hand in his heavy hands and even tried to kiss it, but she pulled her hand away. "Come on, I'm just very late and could lose much more because of this delay.
Also, I'm all for justice! Be more careful in the future, and get insurance, or you really will be left without pants," she said with a smile and got into her car.
Driving a few hundred meters from the scene of the accident and reflecting on what had happened, she suddenly remembered the moment when the poor old man, out of gratitude, tried to kiss her hand.
Iris had noticed the terrible scar on his hand even then but hadn't paid much attention to it.
Now it seemed to her that she had seen it somewhere before.
His slightly creaky voice also seemed painfully familiar to her.
She even pulled over to the side of the road to remember.
"God, it's been so many years! I don't even remember the license plate number now! What a fool I am!"
She turned back, but the scene of the accident was not visible behind the flow of cars, and it was unlikely that the elderly man was still standing there.
"I'll find you, Peter, for sure! Oh, you're the kindest man in the world! It was you! There's no doubt about it!"
thinking about this, Iris even wept, but then she pulled herself together, wiped the mascara under her eyes, and hurried to the meeting.
She always recalled her childhood with a shudder.
Her family lived in a small, provincial town with a city-forming enterprise where her father worked and one hotel where her mother worked.
Their wages were often delayed and small. In addition, her father often drank and threw her and her mother out of the house.
They lived in a small apartment that hadn't been renovated in decades. Old, faded wallpaper hung down in places, a reminder of floods and freezing temperatures.
Her father, who was already frowning and drunk, began to raise his hand against his wife and daughter. Sometimes, Iris and her mother Heather spent the night at the home of a kind neighbor,
Peter, who worked as a forester. Iris's father even tried to fight with him a few times, but Peter was much older and did not give in, even threatening to turn the troublemaker over to the police.
When Iris was 11 years old, her father died of alcohol intoxication.
