When the Torrential Rain Hits

On a stormy night, my next-door neighbor suddenly went into labor. I drove her through the floodwaters to the maternity hospital.
After she was discharged, she reported me for running an illegal taxi service to make a quick buck.
I didn't say a word. I paid the $5,000 fine, and my car was impounded.
She posted a voice message in our buildings residents' group chat: "Even with friends, business is business. If you break the law, you pay the price!"
A month later, her younger son had a seizure from a high fever. She couldn't get a cab in the middle of the night.
She called me, crying, begging me to drive them to the hospital. Holding my phone, I said calmly, "Thats illegal. You could go to jail for that. You should probably wait for an ambulance."

1
"Tim! Are you even human? This is a child's life we're talking about!"
"If my son ends up with brain damage, I'll never let you hear the end of it! You're a murderer!"
I held the phone away from my ear and hung up.
Outside, thunder rattled the windows. Another storm was raging.
The last one had lasted for three whole days.
The building's underground garage was completely flooded. Luckily, I'd had the foresight to move my new Audi A6 to higher ground. That car was my calling card for my business; I practically polished it three times a day.
At 2 a.m., when the rain was at its heaviest, a thunderous banging shook my front door.
I looked through the peephole and saw my neighbor, Mark, soaked to the bone.
The moment I opened the door, he dropped to his knees.
"Tim! Help me! My wife's in labor! Her water broke!"
In this weather, even a tank would have trouble getting through, let alone an ambulance. The roads outside the complex were cut off, the water rising to thigh-level in the deepest spots.
"Have you called 911?" I asked, throwing on some clothes.
"We did! There's a huge queue! Everyone's waiting! But Sarah can't wait, she's on the floor, screaming in pain, and she's bleeding!"
Mark, a grown man, was a mess of tears and snot, his forehead hitting the floor tiles with a dull thud.
"Tim, I know you have a good car, high clearance. Please, save my wife and baby! If we're too late, they could both die!"
Lives were on the line.
I stared out at the rain pouring down like a waterfall and gritted my teeth.
"Let's go."
Id never driven in such treacherous conditions.
Waves of floodwater crashed over the hood, and the wipers on their highest setting could barely clear the windshield. I had to crawl through the "river" that was our street, hazard lights flashing.
In the car, Sarah's screams were agonizing. Her nails clawed deep gouges into my leather seats. I winced at the damage but didn't dare say a word, my focus entirely on the road ahead.
The engine sputtered ominously several times. My palms were slick with sweat. If we stalled here, we'd all be trapped.
A drive that normally took twenty minutes stretched into an hour and a half.
The moment I pulled up to the maternity hospital entrance, medics rushed out with a gurney. As they lifted Sarah out, a mixture of amniotic fluid and blood soaked my backseat.
Mark followed behind them, stammering his endless thanks.
I collapsed into the driver's seat, exhausted, my hands still shaking.
The trip had half-wrecked my car. The engine had probably taken on water, and the interior would need a complete overhaul. But at that moment, all I could think was: I saved two lives. It was worth it.
The next afternoon, I was at the auto shop, grimacing at the sight of my dismantled engine.
Mark sent me a text: a healthy baby boy, mother and child were doing fine.
I sent him back a generous gift of cash through a payment app.
A little while later, Mark showed up at the shop and insisted on stuffing five hundred dollars in cash into my hand.
"Tim, this is for gas and a car wash. You have to take it! Sarah would feel terrible otherwise!"
I tried to refuse. "We're neighbors. Don't be a stranger. As long as the baby's okay, that's all that matters."
"No! Even with friends, business is business. If you don't take this, you're looking down on me!"
He shoved the money into my pocket and ran off before I could protest further.
Holding the five hundred dollars, I thought to myself that they were a decent, considerate family.
I never imagined that five hundred dollars would be the beginning of my nightmare.
Three days later, I was in a meeting at work when several uniformed officers from Traffic Enforcement walked right in.
"Are you Tim Wallace? The owner of the vehicle with license plate 66888?"
I froze. "Yes, that's me. What's wrong?"
"We've received a formal complaint against you for operating an illegal taxi service. The evidence is conclusive. You need to come with us."
At their headquarters, when they showed me the file, my world went cold.
The complainant: Sarah Miller.
The evidence included the complete dashcam footage from the night I drove her to the hospital, and a photo of Mark forcing the five hundred dollars into my hand.
There was even a recording.
It was Sarah's voice, sounding weak, yet shrewd: "Yes, I took his illegal taxi. The rain was too heavy to get a ride, so he jacked up the price to five hundred dollars. People like him, who profit from a crisis, must be punished."
I trembled as I listened to the recording.
I thought of the heart-pounding terror of that drive.
I thought of the bloodstains on my leather seats.
I thought of the thousands of dollars I had paid out of pocket for repairs.
"Bullshit!"
I slammed my fist on the table. "This is slander! I was taking her to the hospital to give birth! Her husband forced that money on me for gas!"
The officer's face was impassive. "We only look at the evidence. You don't have a commercial driver's license, yet you accepted payment. The facts are clear."
"According to regulations, the fine is five thousand dollars, and the vehicle will be impounded."
Five thousand dollars.
For me, with my business already facing a cash flow crunch, it was like pouring salt on a wound. Worse, with my car impounded, how was I supposed to meet my clients?
I slumped into the chair, the cold penalty notice clenched in my fist.
In that moment, something inside of me simply died.

2
My heart bled as I drove my car out of the impound lot.
The tow truck had cracked the bumper, and the body was caked in mud. Just like my life at that momenta complete mess.
I drove straight to the hospital.
In the hospital room, Sarah was propped up in bed, sipping on some expensive broth. Her cheeks were rosy; she looked nothing like the woman who had been at death's door that night.
Mark was peeling an apple beside her. When he saw me, his hand flinched, the knife nearly slicing his finger.
"Well, well, look who it is. Our hero," Sarah said, her voice dripping with sarcasm after swallowing a mouthful of broth.
I threw the penalty notice onto her blanket. "Why?"
It was the only word I could manage.
Sarah glanced at the amount on the paper and smirked.
"Don't blame me, Tim. The city offers a reward for reporting illegal taxis, up to three hundred bucks."
She wiped her mouth with a napkin, her tone matter-of-fact. "If I didn't report you, someone else would have. Might as well keep it in the neighborhood. Three hundred dollars is enough for a month of Toby's formula."
I stared at her in disbelief.
"For three hundred dollars? I saved your life! And your son's! My car repairs cost over a thousand! Now I've been fined five thousand!" I roared, my eyes turning red.
Mark shrank into himself, not saying a word, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
"You did that willingly. I didn't ask you to," Sarah said with an eye-roll. "Besides, you drive such a nice car. What's a little money to you? For poor people like us, every penny counts."
"This is betrayal! I helped you!"
"Don't you dare get on your high horse with me! The law says you were operating illegally, and that's that! Where there's smoke, there's fire!"
Sarah's voice suddenly shot up, drawing the attention of the other patients and their families in the ward. She immediately switched into victim mode, pointing at me and shouting, "Everyone, come and judge for yourselves! This man runs an illegal taxi in the rain, preying on pregnant women! Now that he's been fined, he's come to the hospital to threaten us! Is there no justice?"
People who didn't know the story started whispering and pointing at me.
"He looks so respectable, but he does such vile things."
"Scamming a pregnant woman... he has no heart."
I was speechless, unable to defend myself.
Looking at Sarah's triumphant, smug face, I suddenly realized that arguing with someone like her was the height of foolishness.
I shot a cold glance at Mark. "You're just going to let your wife run wild like this?"
Mark looked down, mumbling, "Tim, in our house... Sarah calls the shots..."
Fine.
Just fine.
I turned and walked out of the room, Sarah's victorious sneer following me down the hall.
When I got home, an even bigger storm was waiting.
To get her hands on that $300 reward, Sarah had publicly tagged me in the 500-member residents' group chat.
"@TimWallace You can't judge a book by its cover. Everyone, be careful not to take his car! He scams his neighbors during storms, preying on people he knows!"
She even posted a pixelated photo of my fine notice, painting herself as a brave victim fighting for her rights.
The chat exploded.
The same neighbors who used to greet me respectfully as "Mr. Wallace" completely changed their tune.
"I never would have thought he was that kind of person."
"Stay away from him. He's a real shark."
Even my own parents were accosted by others in the building when they went out for groceries, told they had failed in raising their son. The stress caused my mom's blood pressure to spike, and she ended up in the hospital for three days.
Because my car was impounded for two weeks, I missed meetings with two major clients.
My company's cash flow completely dried up.
I had to swallow my pride and borrow money from relatives, enduring their condescending looks. Friends who'd once clapped me on the back now sent my calls straight to voicemail.
During that time, I was sleeping three hours a night, my hair falling out in clumps.
Countless times, I stood on my balcony, staring at the lights on in Sarah's apartment downstairs, wanting to charge down there and end it all.
But I held back.
I couldn't throw my life away over someone so worthless.
I sold everything of value I owned to plug the holes in my company's finances.
Life had to go on, but I was no longer the same warm-hearted Tim.
I spent a small fortune installing high-definition, front-and-rear dashcams with audio recording in my car. I also set up a panoramic surveillance camera at my front door, covering every angle, 24/7.
I swore to myself, if I ever meddled in someone else's business again, I was less than human.
From then on, I kept to myself in the building. If I saw an elderly person fall, I'd walk the other way. If I heard a child crying, I'd put on my headphones.
My world became quiet, and my heart grew cold, hard as iron.
Then, a month later.
A brutal flu swept through the city.

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