9 — The Moment Everything Changed-
I still hear the van.
Even now, days later, the memory comes in sound first—the violent roar of an engine pushed too hard,the squeal of tires cutting across pavement,the sharp gasps of people around us.
But mostly?Mostly I remember the air—how it punched out of my lungs when someone crashed into me. Hard. Strong arms wrapped around me, shoving me backward so fast my feet left the ground.
And then—
Impact.
Not mine.His.
A solid, sickening thud that carried across the whole sidewalk.
When I hit the pavement, the first thing I felt was confusion.The second was pain shooting up my elbows.The third was the realization that I hadn't fallen alone.
Someone had shoved me.
Someone had saved me.
I pushed myself up, vision blurry, hair stuck to my face. A figure lay in the street, body twisted at an angle that didn't make sense to me at first.
A boy.Black hoodie.Dark hair.Broad shoulders.Still.
Too still.
My brain didn't recognize him yet. He was just a shape that wasn't moving.
"No, no—NO—!"The scream ripped out of me before I even processed it.
I scrambled toward him, palms scraping against asphalt. People were yelling. Someone was calling 911. The cyclist who saw everything kept saying, "He pushed her—he pushed her out of the way—oh my god—"
But I couldn't focus on any of that.
I crawled to him.
His chest wasn't rising.
His eyes were half-open, unfocused, unseeing.
And then one of the watching students whispered something that freezes my blood even now:
"Is he dead?"
My hearing rang. My vision tunneled.
"No—no, please—please—" My hands shook as I reached for him, but I didn't even know what to touch. His shoulder? His face? Would that hurt him?
"Hey—HEY—stay with me—please—stay—" My voice cracked. "You're okay. Just breathe, please."
The boy seemed to move his head just a little and looked at me. I didn't know what to do.
I just knew I needed him to breathe.
"You—" His voice came out rough. "You're … okay?"
I nodded fast, I could feel the tears streaking down my face. "You idiot! Why would you do that? You could've died!" I shouted more out of fear than anger.
He tried for a grin, but it hurt too much and he winced instead. "Not... dead.. yet" he whispered
"Don't—don't joke." I half-laughing/ half-sobbing pressed my sleeve to his forehead. This boy is about to die and he's making jokes. "Just stay with me, okay? Please? Help is coming, so just say with me."
His eyes seem to lose focus and his eyelids start to close.
"Stay with me! ...Hey! Please help!"
As I knew there next to this boy who's name I didn't know crying I hear. him whisper his last thought out loud. "...Beautiful."
The sirens arrived before sense did. Paramedics pushed me aside gently, asking rapid questions that barely registered.
"How fast was the vehicle?"
"Did he lose consciousness immediately?"
"Was he breathing at any point?"
I couldn't answer. I just kept staring.
One of them pressed fingers against his neck. Another positioned mask and equipment.
Then I heard the words that carved themselves permanently into my bones:
"No pulse."
"No—"I staggered, gripping my own arms as if I could keep myself from shattering.
"Starting compressions," another paramedic said calmly.
I could only watch. His body jolted under their hands. His head tilted with each push. The world blurred with tears.
Please. Please breathe. Please don't die because I was taking a stupid video.Please—
"Got something." A shout.
Then: "We're moving—let's go!"
And suddenly he was being lifted onto a stretcher. Wheeled into the ambulance. Doors slammed.
Someone asked if I needed a ride too because my knees kept buckling.
I barely remember getting to the hospital.
I remember signing papers with shaking hands.I remember sitting in a waiting area with white walls and too many people breathing too loudly.I remember gripping my hoodie sleeves so tightly the threads cut into my palms.
And I remember the doctor approaching.
"Are you the girl who was pushed out of the way?"
My throat closed."…yes."
"He's alive for now," she said gently, "but his heart stopped on-site."
The world stopped again.
"He sustained significant trauma to the ribs and chest. We're running tests to determine the extent of internal injuries. If you have any information about what happened—"
"I'm the reason it happened," I whispered.
She shook her head firmly. "No. The driver lost control. If the young man hadn't acted, you would have been struck."
My stomach twisted.
He saved me. A stranger. Someone I didn't even know the name of.
And he might die because of it.
-The First Visit-
They let me see him hours later.
The room was dim, machines humming, his body still and quiet under stark white sheets. Tubes, monitors—too many things attached to someone who looked far too young to belong in a hospital bed.
He was unconscious.Face pale.Hair messy.Lips slightly parted as he breathed shallowly.
I stood at the doorway for a full minute before I could make myself take a step.
Another minute before I made it to the chair beside him.
And then I just sat.
Silent.
Staring at the boy who saved my life.
"You don't know me," I whispered into the still air. "I don't know your name, or your major, or anything. But you pushed me—"
My voice cracked.
"You saved me. You didn't even hesitate."
Tears slipped down my face before I could stop them.
"Please wake up," I whispered. "Please. I don't want… I don't want your last moment to be saving someone stupid."
I stayed until a nurse gently told me visiting hours were over.
I promised myself I'd come back tomorrow.
I didn't know then that "tomorrow" would become a pattern.A routine.A quiet gravity I'd orbit around until I stopped pretending I wasn't attached.
-When He Finally Woke-
The next day, my hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the lunch I bought him. Real food. Something better than hospital trays.
Except he wasn't awake yet.
Day two, I sat again and waited for him to wake up.And waited.And waited.
On day three—
His fingers twitched.
I ran to get a nurse, who rushed over. I stoped at the bathroom, I wanted to at least make myself somewhat presentable, but when I saw myself if the mirror I realized how tired I looked. I hand't been able to get much sleep the last 2 night. I just keep hearing the screech of tired and impact.
When I went back to his room and opened the door he lay there.
His eyes opened slowly, unfocused, confused.He blinked at the ceiling.Then—
He looked at me.
The moment our eyes met, my whole chest tightened. There was something soft in his confusion, something warm in the way his eyebrows knitted as if trying to place me.
"You're awake," I breathed.
He blinked. "Yeah… I guess I am."
His voice was rough and tired and so very alive it made my knees weak.
"How—how are you feeling?" I asked, choking on the words.
He groaned. "Like I lost a fight with a truck."
I winced. "It was a van."
He huffed a laugh. "Great. Smaller vehicle. Makes me feel better."
The absurdity of his humor nearly broke me.
"You saved my life."The words slipped out before I could filter them.
He looked at me—really looked at me—and something gentle flickered in his expression.
"I'm glad you're okay," he said. "That's what matters."
Not "you're welcome."Not "I didn't have a choice."
Just that.A simple truth.
It disarmed me completely.
"You should hate me," I whispered. "I wasn't paying attention. It was my fault."
His expression softened even more. "Hey. None of that. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But—"
"I'd do it again," he said quietly.
My breath caught.
Who says that?Who means that?
He didn't know me.
But he meant it.