So this happened:

We got off work.
Everything felt normal—long shift, a little tired, ready to go home and mentally melt into the night. We walked out to the parking lot like we always do.

Then... the car wouldn’t start.
Nothing. Not even a cough.
Just silence and that slow realization of: “Oh. This is happening now.”

It was her car, not mine.

But let’s be honest—if your ride breaks down, we break down. We’re coworkers, yes. But more than that, we’re survival partners in this working-adult-schedule-juggling-exhaustion-loop.

She turned the key again. Still nothing.
I looked at the sky like maybe it would rain down a jumpstart.
Nope. Just stars and stress.

So I called my dad.

Because that’s what I do when things get too heavy and I don’t know what else to do.
He came, like he always does, and got me home safe.

And honestly? I felt a wave of relief.
Not just because I got home…
But because I didn’t have to be the one to fix it.
Because I didn’t have to solve the problem.

But now that I'm home and sitting with it, I can’t stop thinking about her.

Is she okay?

Is she going to be able to get the car to a mechanic?
Can she afford it?
Will someone help her if I can’t?
And—yep—here comes the selfish one:

If she can’t get her car fixed… how am I going to get to work?

I feel guilty even thinking that.

Because she’s the one with the broken car.
She’s the one figuring it out.
But I’m human, and I still panicked a little.

This situation made me realize just how much we all depend on each other—and how little control we really have over things like timing belts and starter motors and the weird noises cars make when they’re about to ruin your week.

So what now?

I’ll check in on her tomorrow.
I’ll offer to help however I can.
And yeah—I’ll start quietly looking up backup plans, just in case.

Because being an adult isn’t just about handling your own emergencies.
It’s also about learning how to be there for other people…
even when you’re quietly worried about yourself too.