Luis hadn’t slept well that night. Not because he didn’t want to, but because his mind kept replaying the same thought over and over: “Tomorrow could change my life.” The alarm went off before dawn, and he got up immediately, as if the sound were a sacred command. He showered quickly, put on the only decent white shirt he owned—he had ironed it the night before with almost ceremonial care—and checked the papers in his folder one last time: resume, copies, certificates, an old letter of recommendation he kept like a talisman.
In the kitchen, his mother was waiting for him with a steaming cup of coffee and a loaf of bread wrapped in a napkin. Her hands were rough from a lifetime of work, but her eyes were soft, the kind that comfort even without words. Luis looked at her and smiled, trying to make his confidence come naturally.
—Today, yes, Mom—he said, as if by saying it he could make it real.—. Today I’m going to do well.
She didn’t respond with a speech, or with grand pronouncements. She simply straightened his shirt collar, smoothed a crease on his shoulder, and kissed his forehead.
“Remember what I always told you,” he murmured: “The world may be tough, but don’t become tough.”
Luis nodded. That phrase had stayed with him since childhood. When someone pushed him at school, when life cut off their electricity for non-payment, when he saw his mother go to work sick because there was no other option. The world was hard… but she insisted that his heart didn’t have to turn to stone.
He left home, clutching his folder tightly to his chest. The sky was already dark with clouds, and the air smelled of rain. “It doesn’t matter,” he thought. “Let it rain, I’ll make it.” He started walking quickly toward the bus stop that would take him to the building where they were waiting for him. It was the most important interview of his life: a large, prestigious company, one of those where people came in and, if they were lucky, could stay for years and build something. For Luis, it was more than a job. It was the chance to breathe without fear, to help his mother without counting pennies, to stop living with that constant tension of “what if something happens tomorrow?”
But the rain didn’t wait. First, it was a fine, almost innocent drizzle. Then the sky opened up as if someone had dumped an endless bucket on the city. Luis kept walking. His shirt clung to his body. His hair became a damp tangled mess. His shoes began to slosh around. Even so, he quickened his pace.
On the street, everyone was hurrying, umbrellas clinking together, faces closed, all with the same desire to get somewhere dry quickly. Luis wanted that too, but his haste carried a different weight: “If I’m late, I’ll lose my chance.” And yet, when he was just a few blocks away, something forced him to stop.
At a bus stop, he saw an elderly woman sitting in a puddle. Not “near” the puddle. In it. Her blue coat was soaked, her white hair plastered to her forehead, and her hands trembled as she tried to brace herself on the bench to stand up. But she couldn’t. Her breathing was shallow, as if each inhale was a struggle. People walked past her as if she were just part of the scenery: someone who didn’t fit into the city’s fast pace.
Luis looked at her and felt that strange second when time seems to ask you who you really are. He could carry on. He could pretend he didn’t see. He could tell himself, “Someone else will help her.” He could salvage his interview.
He could also hear his mother’s voice in his head: “Don’t become hard.”
He looked at his watch. He swallowed. And he turned.
He ran toward the old woman, dodging the water that was pooling on the sidewalk. He crouched down carefully in front of her, so as not to frighten her.
“Ma’am… are you okay?” he asked, and his voice sounded more worried than he expected.
The old woman tried to smile, but the smile was barely a gesture. Her lips trembled.
“I’m… weak,” she whispered, almost breathless. “I can’t…”
Luis didn’t think twice. He took off the jacket he was wearing—it wasn’t new, but it was the only thing that helped him stay warm—and put it over his shoulders.
—Don’t worry. I’ll help her.
—No… I don’t want to bother you…
“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, with a gentle firmness. “Let’s go.”
Luis crouched down with his back to her, asked her to hold on, and carefully lifted her onto his shoulders. He felt how light she was, and that lightness struck him deeply: “How can someone be so small and so alone in the middle of so many people?” He began to walk with confident steps, but the ground was slippery and each step was a gamble. The rain was falling harder, as if to test his resolve. Luis clenched his jaw and kept going.
“Where to…?” asked the old woman, resting her forehead on her back.
—To a safe place. And if you feel unwell, to the hospital. Are you in pain?
She didn’t answer clearly, she just breathed heavily. Luis accelerated.
Suddenly, a luxury car screeched to a halt at the corner. Water sprayed from the tires in every direction. The door opened, and a man stepped out into the rain, unconcerned about his expensive suit or the soaking water. He glanced at the old woman, and her face contorted with panic.
“Mom!” she shouted, and ran towards them.
Luis stood still, surprised. The man approached desperately, touched the old woman’s face, checked if she was conscious, and then looked at Luis as if trying to understand the world in seconds.
“What happened?” he asked, firmly, but with a broken voice.
Luis explained quickly, without dramatizing.
—I saw her at the bus stop… she was on the ground… people didn’t stop… I thought she might faint… I’m carrying her…
The man pressed his lips together, as if swallowing his anguish. With Luis’s help, he settled the old woman into the car. Before getting in, she reached for Luis’s hand and squeezed it with a strength unexpected for someone so frail.
“He helped me… when no one else…” she murmured, almost in tears.
Luis smiled shyly, uncomfortable with so much attention.
—It was nothing, ma’am. Really.
The man looked at him with something that seemed like gratitude, but also curiosity. He extended his hand.
“I’m Arturo,” he said. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”
Luis shook her hand without thinking too much.
-Luis.
Arturo observed his soaked shirt, his folder pressed against his chest, his restless gaze.
—Where were you going in this storm?
Luis hesitated for a second, as if he was afraid that saying it would make him sound pretentious.
—I have an interview. A very important one.
—At which company?
Luis mentioned the name, trying to sound calm even though his heart was pounding in his ribs. Arturo was silent for a moment. His eyes narrowed, as if an idea had crossed his mind. But the old woman coughed inside the car, and Arturo reacted again like a worried son.
“Get in,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride. You don’t have to keep getting soaked.”
Luis looked inside the car. It was warm, elegant, the kind you see in movies. But he also looked at his watch. He was already late.
—Thank you, sir, but… I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. Your mother…
—My mom’s here first, yes… but we’ll get there faster this way. Get in.
Luis hesitated. Finally, out of respect and because time was pressing, he agreed. He climbed into the back seat, folder in his lap, feeling out of place.
The car started. In a few minutes they were in front of the company building. Luis got out almost running.
—Thank you, Mr. Arturo. Really. I hope your mother gets better.
Arturo looked at him from behind the wheel.
—Good luck, Luis.
Luis ran towards the entrance. But when he arrived, reality hit him hard: the guard looked him up and down suspiciously.
“Where are you going like that?” he asked, as if the rain were a crime.
—I have an interview. I’m Luis… Luis Ramírez. With Human Resources.
The guard checked a list, frowned, and finally let him through with a slow gesture. Luis went upstairs, water dripping from his hair, his shirt wrinkled, his throat dry.
At the reception, an elegant woman looked at him with the cold expression of someone who had already made a decision before listening to him.
-Yeah?
—Good morning… I’m here for the interview. I’m Luis…
The receptionist checked the screen, then looked at him again, as if his wet clothes confirmed something.
—I’m sorry, Mr. Luis. The interview is over.
The world went a little dark for him.
—Please… there was a situation… an elderly lady… was unwell… I had to…
“The manager is very strict about punctuality,” she interrupted, without emotion. “You can leave your updated resume and we’ll call you if another vacancy opens up.”
Luis clutched the folder. He wanted to insist. He wanted to explain that it wasn’t about irresponsibility, but about humanity. But the receptionist’s gaze was like a wall. He felt that if he spoke any further, he would only humiliate himself.
He looked down.
—I understand… thank you.
She left the building walking slowly, her clothes still damp, as if the rain had taken up residence within her. By the time she reached the street, the storm was beginning to subside. But the weight of defeat was heavier.
She sat under the makeshift roof of a closed shop. She looked at her trembling hands and, for the first time, allowed herself to think what she didn’t want to think.
“Maybe… I should have kept walking,” she whispered.
She said that phrase, but her heart rejected it. Because she knew that if she went back, even if she were given the chance to arrive in time, her mother would still be her mother, her conscience would still be her conscience… and that old woman would still be there, alone in a puddle.
He took out his phone. He had his mother’s message from that morning: “I trust you.” He felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to call her, but he couldn’t say “I lost” without his voice breaking.
Then the phone vibrated with a new notification. A message from an unknown number.
“Return to the building. Management wishes to see you immediately.”
Luis frowned. He looked at the message again and again, as if the words could change. “General Directorate?” What was that? A joke? A mistake?
But something in his chest told him not to ignore it. He stood up. His legs were trembling, but he walked back like someone returning to a place where he doesn’t know if they’re waiting to save him or to finish him off.
Upon entering, the receptionist looked at him confused.
—You again?
Luis showed the message. The woman paled slightly, as if she were seeing him as a real person for the first time.
-One moment…
She made a call. Her stance changed. Suddenly, she was no longer the guardian of “no.” She was an obedient cog in a larger machine.
“Follow me,” he finally said.
Luis followed her. She didn’t lead him to the common rooms. She led him to a private elevator, one of those Luis didn’t even know existed. The doors closed with an elegant silence. The elevator ascended higher than he had imagined. He felt his ears pop slightly from the height, and his heart pounded like a drum.
When the doors opened, he was greeted by a wide, carpeted hallway, adorned with expensive paintings and an intimidating calm. At the far end, two tall doors slowly opened.
The office was enormous, with windows that displayed the city like a chessboard. And seated behind an immaculate desk was Arturo.
The same man from the rain. The same “Arturo” who had jumped out of the car shouting “Mom!”.
Luis froze.
Arturo got up with a warm smile.
—I was waiting for you.
Luis felt his stomach lurch. In that instant, all the pieces fell into place with a silent thud: the luxury car, the way everyone obeyed, the private elevator, the office on the top floor.
Arturo was the CEO.
Luis swallowed hard.
—Sir… I didn’t know…
“I know,” Arturo said, his voice free of reproach. “If you had known, perhaps you would have acted differently. And that’s precisely why I needed to see you.”
He pointed to a chair. Luis sat down slowly, as if he were afraid that if he did it too quickly, he would wake up from a dream.
“My mother is fine,” Arturo continued. “Thanks to you. If you hadn’t stopped, I don’t want to imagine how things would have ended.”
Luis shook his head, still dazed.
—Anyone would have done it, sir.
Arturo let out a small laugh, not mocking.
—Believe me… not just anyone.
She approached the desk and placed a folder in front of Luis. It had his name on it.
—This is your file. It came into my possession.
Luis looked at it as if it were something sacred and dangerous.
—I… lost the interview.
“I know,” Arturo said, his tone becoming more serious. “You were rejected for being late.”
Luis lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of shame once more. Arturo stood up and walked to the window. He looked at the city for a few seconds, then spoke without turning around.
—When I was young, my mother told me something similar to what someone probably told you: “Help others even if it’s difficult for you.” But sometimes you don’t understand until life forces you to face it head-on.
He turned back towards him.
—Luis, I want to ask you something. And I want you to answer me truthfully, even if the answer isn’t in your favor.
Luis looked up.
—If you could go back… knowing that by helping my mother you would lose that interview… would you help her again?
The silence was heavy. Outside, the rain still pattered softly against the glass. Luis felt that the question was a doorway: on one side was fear, on the other, his own identity.
He hesitated for barely a second. Then he answered with the truth, not with strategy.
—Yes, sir. I would help her again.
Arturo stared at him. Not like someone reviewing a resume, but like someone searching for something rare these days: a pure heart. Finally, he smiled. A calm, almost relieved smile.
—Then you’re the kind of person I want in my company.
Luis opened his eyes.
-That…?
“I’m offering you the job,” Arturo said firmly. “Not out of pity. Not out of charity. But because a resume can lie, but action in the rain cannot.”
Luis felt his chest open, as if air were finally entering his lungs after years. His eyes burned.
—Thank you… sir… I…
“Don’t thank me yet,” Arturo interrupted, raising a hand. “Thank your character. That’s what got you here.”
Luis tried to speak, but emotion tied his tongue. He could only nod, tears welling in his eyes.
Arturo approached and patted him on the shoulder, a simple gesture, but full of something Luis did not expect to find in someone so high up in the company: humanity.
—Human Resources will call you today to coordinate your start date. And… —he paused— my mother wants to see you.
Luis swallowed, still confused by how fast everything had gone.
-Now?
“Yes. He’s in a room near here,” he insisted.
They walked down the corridor. Luis felt like he was floating. An hour ago he had been sitting on the street, humiliated, repeating to himself, “Maybe I should have kept walking.” Now he was walking alongside the CEO, as if life had suddenly decided to give him something back.
In a quiet room, the old woman sat in a wheelchair, a blanket draped over her legs. She no longer looked so pale, but she remained frail, as if a strong breath could break her. Upon seeing him, her eyes lit up.
“Son…” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you.”
Luis approached and crouched down to her eye level. She took his hands, as if to make sure he was real.
“No one… has been so kind to me in a long time,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You… lifted me up when everyone was looking the other way.”
Luis felt a warmth in his chest. He wanted to say something dignified, something intelligent, but only the most sincere thing came out.
—I couldn’t leave her there, ma’am.
She clenched her fingers.
—Don’t lose that kindness for anything in the world. I’m telling you this as a mother… and as someone who has seen too many people forget what’s important.
Luis hugged her gently, as if he were hugging his own grandmother. And in that hug, he felt something greater than a job: he felt that his life, for the first time in a long time, had meaning.
Arturo watched them from a few steps away, his eyes shining, not hiding it.
“My mother always told me that people are known by their actions, not their words,” she commented.
Luis stepped back a little, still excited.
—I… I only did what I had to do.
The old woman smiled.
—And that’s what makes you different, son.
When Luis left the building, the rain had completely stopped. The sky was still gray, but timid rays of sunlight peeked through the clouds, as if the day were just beginning. Luis took a deep breath and felt the fresh air fill his lungs. Everything smelled of wet streets and opportunity.
She walked along the sidewalk, her shoes still damp, but she didn’t care anymore. She remembered her mother adjusting her collar and saying, “The world may be hard, but don’t become hard.” She smiled.
She had lost an interview… yes. But she had gained something that no one could take away from her: the certainty that being good is not being foolish, that helping is not weakness, and that sometimes life tests you just when you most need an open door.
Luis understood, with a newfound clarity, that real opportunities don’t always come wrapped in immediate success. Sometimes they arrive in the form of difficult decisions: to stop or to keep going, to look or to ignore, to be human or to be indifferent. And those decisions, however difficult, reveal who you truly are.
That morning, helping an elderly woman took him minutes… and almost cost him his future. But it also opened a path he never could have imagined. Because even in a world that rushes headlong into the future, kindness remains a powerful force.
And as he walked home to hug his mother and tell her, “Yes, Mom… today is the day,” Luis felt something he hadn’t felt in years: hope. The kind that doesn’t depend on luck, but on the certainty of having done the right thing.
Because, in the end, life may take time… but it almost always gives back what you give.
