When Our Worlds Collided

04: [You Wouldn't Believe This!]

Then, just like that, she leaned her head against the window and slipped into sleep, the night wrapping itself around her in a hush.

Cornel drove on, no questions, no judgments—

The car slowed to a gentle stop in front of a neat apartment building, its warm exterior lights glowing softly in the night. Cornel cut the engine, the music fading with it, leaving a quiet stillness behind.

Lily stirred. “Mmh…”

Her eyes fluttered open, squinting as if the world was still too bright for her.

“We’re here,” Cornel said softly, not wanting to startle her.

She blinked a few more times before fully registering where she was. “Oh… you actually brought me home.” Her voice was husky with sleep and disbelief.

“Of course I did,” he replied, offering a calm smile.

That’s when she noticed the jacket draped over her. It was warm, smelled faintly of musk and pine, and felt absurdly expensive. She slowly peeled it off and extended it toward him.

“Your jacket,” she said. “Thanks. I didn’t even realize…”

But Cornel shook his head gently. “Keep it on you for now,” he said. “You’re still half-dreaming and it’s cold out. Just hold onto it.”

Lily looked at him for a long second. Her lips parted, almost as if to argue, but instead she just hugged the jacket closer. “Wow… I didn’t dream you, huh?” she murmured, brushing her hair out of her face. “That would’ve been weird and kinda poetic.”

Cornel said nothing to that—just gave her time.

She glanced at him once more, then reached for the door handle. “Thank you, seriously. I don’t… I don’t know many people who would’ve done what you did tonight. No strings, no weird vibes, just kindness. I needed that.”

He gave a nod. “Get some rest.”

Lily hesitated, one foot out of the car. “Do you have a name, mystery driver?”

“Cornel.”

She blinked again. “Fitting,” she whispered to herself. Then she managed a genuine, if sleepy, smile. “I’m Lily. And Cornel… thanks again. My friend Ortega owes you a thank-you too, I think.”

He simply smiled again, watching as she teetered slightly but steadied herself, giving a small wave before disappearing into the building.

Cornel leaned back in his seat for a moment, eyes staring through the windshield. A journalist named Lily. A best friend named Ortega. He didn’t think much of it—just a flicker of thought.

Then he started the engine once more and drove off into the calm of the night.

Sunday mornings used to be different.
Back then, they smelled like fresh bread and warm tea, sounded like hymnals drifting from the little cathedral church down the road. Ortega could still remember the way the wooden chairs felt beneath her small hands as she arranged them neatly, her mother humming a tune beside her.

Now, Sunday was just another day.

She stretched out on her couch, staring at her phone before finally pressing the call button.

It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Ortega?”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Morning, Mama.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” her mother’s voice warmed with affection. “I was just thinking about you. How are you?”

Ortega exhaled, sinking deeper into the cushions. “I’m okay.”