Worst day

I opened my eyes to sunlight warming my face. Confused, I looked around. The sun was already up. I must’ve overslept, I thought, panic bubbling in my chest.

I shot up, my heart racing—I’m late for the exam.

With no time to waste, I scrambled to get ready. But as I yanked on my jeans, I heard the awful sound of fabric tearing. Seriously? I wrapped my jacket around my waist and bolted downstairs, grabbing my coat and car keys on the way out.

It was freezing. My fingers trembled from the cold—and the anxiety. I couldn’t focus. The streets were eerily empty as I drove, tears threatening to fall. It’s over, I thought. All that studying for nothing. I ruined everything. This is all my fault.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but I couldn’t let myself fall apart—not yet. I took a deep breath and kept driving, clinging to a tiny thread of hope.

Then the car sputtered…and stopped.

My heart sank. No. No, no, no. I’d forgotten to check the gas.

“Why today?” I groaned, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. I grabbed my phone—dead. Of course.

I put my head in my hands, the weight of the morning crashing down on me. I wanted to cry, to scream, but I couldn’t give up—not when I’d come this far. I looked around for a miracle.

And then I saw it.

That building… Aunt Becks lives there!

I rushed toward the door and rang the bell. No answer. Rang it again. Still nothing.

“Third time’s the charm,” I muttered, pressing the button one more time.

I heard footsteps. My heart jumped. But when the door opened, it wasn’t my aunt.

“Hello?” the woman said, eyeing me curiously.

“I—I’m sorry, I thought Mrs. Becks lived here,” I stammered.

“She does. I’m just house-sitting while she’s on vacation,” the woman replied kindly. “Did you need something?”

That was it. I broke down. Everything came pouring out—the exam, the jeans, the car, the phone. She listened patiently, then smiled.

“Get in the car. I’ll drive you.”

Relief washed over me like a wave. I thanked her over and over, wiping away tears as I slid into the passenger seat.

As we drove, we talked. My heart began to calm, my cheeks stopped burning. I felt…okay.

“We’re here,” she said gently.

“You never told me your name,” I said, smiling.

“It’s Emma,” she replied.

“It was really nice to meet you, Emma. I hope we meet again.”

And with that, I walked into the building—fifteen minutes late, but lighter. Somehow, even on the worst day ever, I made it. I didn’t give up. And now, it felt like everything was going to be all right.