Conditional Kindness

A reckless night leads Isabella into the hands of a stranger, someone who saves her, but not without expectation. When kindness comes at a price, she learns that help isn’t always clean-cut. Sometimes, it lingers. Sometimes, it haunts and sometimes, its conditional.

The streets of Perry Avenue beat like a living heart, alive with soulful bodies flowing like sand through an hourglass smooth, yet unpredictable, a controlled chaos that felt effortless. The air pulsed with sound, voices blurring into the rhythm of the night, a pull that wrapped itself around the city like an unspoken anthem.

Lights flickered above, colourful halos blending into the darkness, glowing like distant stars scattered across the skyline. Everything moved with joy, rich with aromas that clung to the senses. Sizzling kebabs, grilled meats dripping in spice, melted cheese stretching from warm bread. The sharp bite of tequila lingered on laughter, slipping between conversations, dissolving in unspoken ecstasy of the night.

Perry Avenue wasn’t a place for judgment. No stiff shoulders, no polished shoes and pantsuits measuring worth. No whispered competitions. Just acceptance. Just movement. Happiness that spread like pollen from a bee, effortless, intoxicating.

Isabella let it take her.

Here, there was no impossibility of unhappiness only the comfort of the night, the moment where everything felt like a peaceful piece of home away from home.

There was always a moment right before the night twisted when everything felt perfect. The music in sync with her heartbeat, the heat of bodies pressed together, the distant echoes and vibration of laughter tangled in conversation. Drinks passed between eager hands, lips stained from liquor and candied fruit.

Henry met her gaze across the bar. A slow, knowing smirk. Their meet-cute was textbook. And the drinks kept flowing, heads tilting closer, laughter curling between them.

But moments like these didn’t last.

One second, she was moving with the crowd. The next, she was part of someone else’s night.

Satin dresses, high pitched wild shrieks and cackled laughs. The surge of energy swept her forward, hands pulling her into something she didn’t fully understand. The bridal party swallowed her whole spinning, drinking, dragging her into their limousine before she could even resist.

And,

Then she was gone.

Henry? Gone.

Her phone? Dead.

Her confidence? Evaporated.

The limo doors opened onto unfamiliar pavement. Perry Avenue was nowhere in sight.

The city was different now. No longer friendly, no longer thrilling.

Cold air curled around her skin, like an unwanted comfort strapping her in something heavier than regret.

Then....

“You alright?”

The voice didn’t match the night. It was grounded, steady, slicing through the silence like a tether, like something keeping her from drifting too far.

She turned, blinking through the blur.

A man stood under the glow of a flickering street light, hands in his jacket pockets, watching. Not judging. Just watching.

Isabella swallowed. “I I’m lost.”

Kareem studied her, gaze flickering over her bare arms, the slight tremor in her stance, the exhaustion curling into her frame.

“You don’t know where you are?”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “I was at Drunken Menace. I don’t ” She paused. “I don’t know how I got here.”

A silence settled between them.

Kareem sighed, rubbing his jaw. “You’re nowhere near Perry Avenue.”

Her chest tightened. Anxiety covering her body like a sweating sickness.

“I need to get back.”

Kareem nodded toward his car. “Come on.”

A feeling gnawed in the background and then something shifted.

Not in the world around her, but deep inside an ache low in her stomach, a quiet unease curling around her thoughts. Was it the drive? The uncertainty? Or the way a stranger spoke with such certainty, like he understood something she hadn’t yet faced?

Isabella sank into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car soothing her, a slice of safety. But still an inner voice left her on edge, was she safe?

The disappointment cuts deeper than silence, Isabella conflicted, as helpful as this seemed, gnawing feelings troubled her mind, refusing to settle.

Kareem drove slow, eyes flicking between the road and her tequila marinated memory, scanning for something familiar.

“What do you remember last?”

Isabella pressed her fingers to her temples, forcing herself to think.

“The club. Henry was there… then the crowd pulled me away. The bridal party.”

Kareem scoffed under his breath. “And Henry didn’t look for you?”

The words landed differently this time.

She stared at the city blurring past, the streets unfamiliar, twisted memories and unclear scatters.

The truth sat heavy in her chest, tight and unspoken.

Somewhere deep, she knew the answer. She just didn’t want to say it.

“He probably just ” She stopped.

Because what was the excuse?

Kareem’s fingers curled tighter around the wheel. “Yeah. Figures.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was heavy, thick with unspoken truths.

Kareem exhaled. “You can’t keep living like this.”

Isabella frowned. “Living like what?”

His jaw tightened. “Throwing yourself into nights like these. Trusting people who don’t care if you disappear.”

Her stomach twisted. “That’s not ” She shook her head. “You don’t even know me.”

“No,” Kareem agreed, voice flat. “But I know people like you.”

Her pulse picked up. “And what does that mean?”

He sighed, rubbing his the outline of his jaw, his tongue rubbing at his lip, as if he was holding back his frustration. “It means I’ve seen it before. People chasing something excitement, escape, whatever. It starts as fun, until one night, they get lost. And no one looks for them.”

Isabella clenched her fists.

“I looked for me,” she muttered.

Kareem let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head, radiating with a sarcastic lace. “Yeah. Lucky you. Not everyone gets that chance.”

The words landed harder than Isabella expected. Taken back by the strangers kindness that had seemed to have changed to a lecture.

She didn’t want to admit he was right.

But the truth sat in her chest, heavy and unshakable.

It wasn’t lost on Isabella that help doesn’t always come wrapped in kindness.

Kareem watched her closely now, noticing how she swayed slightly, how her grip on reality was slipping.

“You need sleep,” he said, matter-of-fact. “You’re running on fumes.”

Isabella hesitated, her mind overwhelmed and loud, between exhaustion and uncertainty. “I I should just go home, I need to go home.”

Kareem didn’t hesitate. “Where’s your car, where is home? Where are you?”

The question's sank deep, pressing against everything she didn’t want to acknowledge, part because she couldn't and part because denial sat with a kinder hand.

She exhaled slowly. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Kareem let out a sharp breath, fingers tapping against the steering wheel like he was weighing his options.

“Then come on,” he said, his tone neither soft nor harsh. “Rest for a few hours. I’ll get you back after.”

She didn’t move right away.

Help should feel warm. Safe. But this, this kind of help was different. It was practical, necessary, and full of truths she wasn’t ready to face, that lingered another feeling she couldn't quite work out.

Her chest continues to give grief , mixed signs of a heart attack as she felt her insides tighten. “I don’t… I don’t know okay, are you happy, just stop I can't answer your questions, I'm sorry, I don't know, I just don't know.” she sobbed, lost to the surrender of her demise.

Kareem exhaled, he had pushed a big red explosive button. He thought for a moment, and then became Insistent “Come on!. You can come to my place, rest, have some water I will keep you safe. What do you say, my place for a few hours. Then I’ll drive you back.”

She hesitated again. Could she trust him?

But what was the alternative? Wandering aimlessly? Hoping Henry magically showed up?

She sighed, nodding.

The apartment was small, tucked into the depths of the city, lower ground-level units that felt strange, eerie.

For a brief moment, unease and every scene from a horror film flashed through her mind, quicker than a thirty second peep show, was this a mistake?

Kareem handed her a bottle of water and a blanket, his movements quick, practical no extra words, no warmth, just what needed to be done.

Isabella stared at them for a second, feeling the cold condensation on the plastic, the rough texture of the blanket in her hands.

She was exhausted. Down to her bones, her muscles, her mind the kind of tired that didn’t just come from a long night, but from everything before it.

Kareem didn’t say much. He didn’t hover, didn’t check in like someone who wanted a conversation.

Instead, he nodded toward the couch. “Get some sleep.”

She wanted to argue. To say something. But her body had already made the choice for her. She curled up, pulling the blanket over her, shutting out the world before she could figure out what any of this really meant.

Morning hit hard. Sunlight sliced through the blinds in long, sharp streaks of fire burning sensation.

The taste of alcohol still clung to the back of her throat, stale smells of smoke, perfumes, fluids she couldn't identify, all mixing with regret and relief in a way that felt too familiar.

She sat up slowly, blinking at her surroundings. Trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

Kareem was at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of coffee, already dressed, already watching her.

No words. Just that look the one that said he saw everything she refused to acknowledge. Isabella didn’t know what to say.

And maybe that was the point.

Without much talk, they left. The ride back was quiet not awkward, just heavy, like the night still hung in the space between them.

When Perry Avenue finally came into view, Isabella felt something shift inside her.

She turned slightly, keeping her voice low, careful. “Thanks.”

Kareem didn’t look at her right away.

Then, finally, a shrug. “Just… be smarter next time.”

No smile. No comfort.

Just the kind of disappointment that sticks.

She nodded, stepping out.

Weeks passed and the kindness of that night wasn't lost on Isabella, she had moved passed Henry but had never said thank you in a clear and sober manner.

The recklessness of her actions and the unfolding of the night still burning in Isabellas memory, something lingered the weight of his words, the realization that a worse person could have found her. A pulling need to express her appreciation.

She sent him a message, trying to reach out to him.

Just a simple thank you.

At first, his response was normal. Then, something shifted.

The tone changed. The warmth vanished once he noticed Isabella's social media account, it had her down as in a relationship.

“Figures you’d go back to your old habits.” A sharp and hostile voice recorded message came through.

The words hit Isabella in a way of uncertainty and disbelief, there had been no conversation, just judgment delivered without hesitation.

Then,

Another audio message followed

"You took and took, never gave back, Now karma’s coming, and it won’t cut slack. Fate’s flipping, luck’s gone sour, Hope you enjoy the worst 24-hour. Everything you touch? Crumbling, cursed. Every win?Straight-up reversed. Consider this debt officially paid Let the regrets rain down like a freakin’ cascade.

Enjoy your curse, princess. You earned it."

And then,

Isabella was blocked.

Isabella stared at her screen, one brow raised, a look of confusion froze in the line of her expressions.

Kareem had saved her. A wonderful stranger in a time of need. But now, watching his meltdown play out, she saw him for what he was just another person, caught in the same human mess of entitlement and disappointment.

Nothing special. No power, no wisdom beyond the moment.

Just a different severity of human, a different level of expectation.

And maybe, kindness was never without expectation.