A cold winter morning had enveloped the land with the thinnest layer of frost, as if someone with an invisible hand had dusted it with tiny diamonds. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the air was so clean that it seemed crystalline. Each breath stung the nose and cheeks, a reminder: winter was here and not retreating. In such moments, time seemed to slow down, and even the most hurried people looked unhurried.

Aleksey Petrovich always appreciated these early runs. His old bus, though battered by time, remained a faithful companion. Twenty years behind the wheel was no joke. Over that time, the road between the city and the village had become almost native to him. How many times had he driven these winding paths, how many times had he jolted over endless potholes? The landscapes around remained unchanged: snowy forests, rare houses on the outskirts, spacious fields. But each run had its own peculiarity—be it the passengers or unexpected events.

Today’s trip seemed to be the most ordinary. There were only a few people on the bus: two students in the back seats, completely absorbed by their phone screens; an elderly man with a newspaper, who constantly adjusted his glasses as if each line demanded his full attention; and a young couple, comfortably settled by the window. A quiet, measured route.

The bus gently swayed on the turns, and Aleksey Petrovich relaxedly held the steering wheel, admiring the frosted landscape outside the window. He liked this feeling of unity with the road.

But suddenly, his gaze caught someone on the roadside. A woman stood motionless, like a statue. At first glance, nothing unusual—people often wait for a ride in winter. However, her pose, her sluggishness… Aleksey Petrovich instinctively slowed down to get a better look. The woman was wrapped in a dark down jacket, which clearly didn’t save her from the piercing cold. And in her hands, something was wrapped. He squinted. Not “something.” A baby.

“Well, look at that,” he muttered to himself, lightly pressing the brake.

When the bus aligned with the woman, he rolled down the window and loudly asked: “Hey, what are you doing standing in such frost? Who are you waiting for?”

The woman slowly raised her head. Her face was pale, her eyes clouded with fatigue. She took a step closer, but still spoke barely audibly: “Waiting for a ride…”

“A ride? In such a freeze?” Aleksey Petrovich skeptically snorted, noticing her whitened fingers, spasmodically clutching the child. “Get in quickly. No need to freeze out here.”

The woman hesitated. She instinctively clutched the baby to herself, as if checking whether she could trust this stranger.

“I need to get to the hospital,” she finally said. “I have no money for the fare…”

Aleksey Petrovich waved his hand, as if to dismiss the thought. “Don’t worry about the money. Get in, don’t torture the child.”

She cautiously climbed the steps, moving so slowly as if she was afraid to wake her son. Her down jacket was covered in frost, and her face looked sunken, but she held herself with some inner strength. Taking the nearest seat, she wrapped the boy tighter, trying to warm him with her warmth. Aleksey Petrovich cast a quick glance in the rearview mirror. The child really looked bad—too pale, too lifeless…

Passengers noticed the woman, but preferred to remain silent. Only the elderly man grumbled something to himself and then immersed himself back in reading the newspaper.

The bus started, and Aleksey Petrovich involuntarily sped up. He knew: more than an hour’s drive to the hospital, and they couldn’t wait.

“What’s with the baby?” he asked, continuing to focus on the road.

“He suddenly got worse at night,” the woman answered in a tired, breathless voice. “His temperature rose, now he barely breathes. I wanted to call a taxi, but didn’t have enough money. So I stood there, hoping…”

Aleksey Petrovich just nodded briefly. He had heard such stories many times, but each time, something inside him tightened with sympathy.

“Hold on,” he said softly. “We’ll be there soon.”

The woman just nodded weakly in response, but her face showed doubt. Will they make it? Will they help?

The hour’s journey felt like an eternity. Aleksey Petrovich carefully watched the road, avoiding even the slightest bumps. Every turn, every pothole was familiar to him, but today he drove especially cautiously, as if carrying something exceptionally fragile. At some point, he noticed the child slightly stir—a sign that seemed hopeful. At least, he allowed himself to hope.

Finally, they reached the hospital. Aleksey stopped the bus right at the entrance.

“Run quickly,” he said, turning to the woman. “I’ll wait for you.”

“Will you really wait?” surprise reflected in her eyes.

“Of course, where else would I go? Hurry, no time to lose.”

She hurriedly thanked him and ran out, holding her son tightly. Aleksey Petrovich watched her go, then sighed heavily.

“That’s life,” he murmured, pulling out a thermos with tea.

Time passed slowly. Ten minutes, twenty, thirty… Gradually, passengers left the bus, and silence reigned in the cabin. Aleksey Petrovich thought about his past. Many years ago, he himself had rushed his wife to the hospital—also in winter, also in a hurry. Then, a random person had helped them, and he still kept gratitude in his heart. Good always returns, he thought. The main thing is to find the strength to give it.

Finally, the hospital doors swung open. The woman emerged, still holding the child in her arms. A look of relief appeared on her face. Approaching the bus, she quietly said:

“Thank you so much. The doctor said it’s nothing serious. Just need some medicine.”

Aleksey Petrovich smiled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his soul.

“Great! Come on, get in. I’ll take you back.”

The woman tried to object, but he cut her off with a gesture.

“Come on now. I’m heading that way anyway.”

She expressed her gratitude again, took her seat, and the little boy snuggled up to her shoulder. Aleksey Petrovich started the engine and headed back down the familiar road. His heart felt warm and bright.

Sometimes, all that’s needed is to simply stop. Sometimes, extending a helping hand is enough to change someone’s life.