Rain was falling steadily as an elderly woman stepped onto the crosswalk. The street was wet, traffic heavy, and every step she took was careful and slow. She held her coat close, trying to shield herself from the cold rain while crossing at the zebra crossing, exactly where she was supposed to be.
Then it happened.
A young man driving a car sped past without slowing down. The wheels hit a puddle, sending dirty water splashing all over the woman. She gasped, soaked from head to toe, standing there shocked and humiliated in the rain.
The car didn’t stop.
The driver didn’t look back.
Quietly, the woman continued on her way and boarded a nearby bus. Wet, shaken, but composed, she took a seat near the window as the bus pulled back onto the road.
A few moments later, fate caught up.
Ahead of them was the same car.
The bus driver noticed it immediately—and noticed something else too: the driver’s window was wide open. As the bus passed through a large puddle, the driver didn’t hesitate. The wheels rolled straight through the water, sending a powerful wave back toward the car.
This time, it was the young man who was drenched.
Water poured through the open window, soaking him completely. Traffic moved on. The bus continued its route. No words were exchanged. No confrontation was needed.
Justice had already spoken.
The elderly woman watched quietly from her seat. She didn’t smile. She didn’t cheer. She simply looked forward, as the bus drove on through the rain.
Sometimes, kindness doesn’t shout.
Sometimes, it doesn’t even speak.
But the road has a way of remembering every choice we make—
and returning it, right on time.