The Good Samaritan Chapter 1

On a night of torrential rain, my fiancé abandoned me on the side of the road to go comfort his childhood sweetheart.

As I stood there, completely drenched and shivering, a Range Rover pulled over in front of me.

A tall, incredibly muscular man stepped out of the car and held an umbrella over my head.

"With rain this heavy, what on earth are you doing out here, miss?"

My eyes drifted first to his prominent, muscular chest pressing against his shirt, and then slowly up to his face.

And then, I burst into loud, ugly tears.

He panicked instantly, waving his hands frantically. "Holy shit! Please don't cry! If you're in trouble, just tell me! I'll help you!"

* * *

"Son of a bitch! Is he even human?!"

Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, I finished telling my story. The kind stranger was furious, cursing loudly and slamming his fist against the steering wheel.

"What an absolute bastard!"

"Don't cry, miss. Here, dry your hair first." He handed me a clean towel. His movements were incredibly gentle and careful, a complete contrast to the aggressive way he was cursing just seconds ago.

He looked at me with deep sympathy, righteous anger burning in his eyes. "Good lord, look at how he treated a sweet girl like you. He's a disgrace to men everywhere."

The more he talked, the more wronged I felt, and my tears just wouldn't stop.

Even total strangers thought he was completely out of line, yet Nate Sterling genuinely believed he hadn't done anything wrong.

It was an autumn night. I was soaked to the bone, and the freezing wind made me shiver uncontrollably.

The man quickly took off his heavy jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and blasted the car's heater.

"Thank you so much."

"Don't be sad, miss. I'm not a bad guy, I swear. Where do you live? I'll drive you home. You'll catch pneumonia if you stay out here."

I gave him my address, and he drove me straight home.

That night, Nate Sterling abandoned me to comfort Chloe, his childhood friend who claimed to have severe depression. Instead, it was a random stranger passing by who saved me.

Even though I got into the car quickly, I still woke up the next morning with a high fever.

While drifting in and out of consciousness in bed, I heard my mom and Nate talking outside my bedroom door.

"I was wrong about last night. I came to apologize to Hazel," Nate said.

My mom sighed. "Couples fight all the time. It's normal. Just go in and talk to her softly. She'll forgive you."

My mom didn't know the full story of what happened last night. She assumed it was just a minor, petty argument.

After all, I loved him so deeply and desperately. How could I ever stay mad at him? In the past, a few soft words were all it took for me to forgive him.

The bedroom door opened. A warm palm rested gently against my forehead.

I opened my eyes and looked at him coldly, turning my head to dodge his touch.

Nate froze for a second, but his expression quickly returned to normal. His eyes held a trace of apology. "Last night was an emergency. You know Chloe has severe clinical depression. I couldn't just leave her alone when she was having an episode."

You couldn't bear to leave Chloe alone, but you could bear to leave me.

A bitter taste flooded my throat, and my heart turned completely cold.

Chloe constantly weaponized her "depression," using it to snatch Nate away from me countless times.

During our dates. While we were eating dinner. Even when we were lying in bed at night.

All it took was a single phone call. No matter how busy or preoccupied he was, he would drop everything and rush to her side immediately.

He constantly told me I needed to be "understanding" of Chloe. He swore he only saw her as a little sister.

But what kind of "brother and sister" are so intimately close that they fall asleep hugging in the same bed? He claimed it was because Chloe lacked a sense of security and needed to be comforted.

Last night, Chloe called him again, crying hysterically and saying she couldn't breathe.

Nate immediately turned the car around. I snapped and we got into a massive fight.

His face was full of annoyance. He frantically checked his watch over and over, terrified that if he delayed even one more second, Chloe might do something drastic.

"Can you stop causing drama for once?! Chloe is sick! She is a patient! You have absolutely zero empathy!"

In that moment, I desperately wanted to know who mattered more to him. I arrogantly, foolishly issued an ultimatum: "You have to choose right now. It's either me or Chloe."

And then... I was humiliatingly, brutally abandoned on the side of the road.

I still remember the freezing, indifferent tone of his voice right before he left: "You are being incredibly cold-blooded right now. Stand here and reflect on your behavior."

The car tires screeched as he sped away, splashing freezing, muddy rainwater all over my dress. It felt like fireworks going off to celebrate Chloe's ultimate victory.

It was late at night. The road was completely deserted. He wasn't worried that I might run into danger; he was only worried that Chloe might hurt herself.

If that kind stranger hadn't stopped to help me last night, I have no idea what could have happened to me.

If he actually felt guilty, why didn't he call me once during that entire, endless night? Why didn't he come looking for me?

Why did he only show up now? Because he spent the entire night keeping Chloe company, obviously.

The agonizing pain of a heart covered in scars had finally gone completely numb. I was just sinking into an endless abyss.

From seventeen to twenty-five. I had to face the brutal reality: the man I had loved for my entire youth was rotten to his very core.

I would never be his first choice. As long as Chloe existed, the scales in his heart would always, permanently tip toward her.

I stared at him, my gaze terrifyingly calm and detached, and spoke slowly: "Nate, I don't want to marry you anymore."

"Let's break up."

"I'll explain everything clearly to both of our families."

My tone was so incredibly calm that Nate's expression cracked for a split second.

He furrowed his brow, familiarly reaching out to tuck the blankets around me.

"You're just speaking out of anger right now. Don't say stupid things you're going to regret later."

He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. It was incredibly tender. So tender that it made my nose sting with unshed tears.

That's the cruelest part.

I desperately wanted to stop loving this despicable man, but I could still see the ghost of the boy I fell so deeply in love with. It made cutting him out of my life feel like pure psychological torture.

"Rest up and get better. I'll be right here with you."