She turned the device off to conserve power, saving it for a dire emergency, though she couldn’t imagine an emergency worse than this. The cold was unlike anything Jasmine had ever endured. It wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was aggressive, making her bones ache and her thoughts turn fuzzy.
She felt the overwhelming urge to close her eyes and sleep, even though she knew that sleeping in these conditions meant never waking up.
— Tell me about your grandmother, — Margaret said after a while, her voice weak but curious.
So Jasmine talked to keep them both conscious. She told Margaret about Grandma Rose, about her laugh that could fill an entire room, and how she hummed hymns while cooking even though she couldn’t carry a tune. She spoke of how her grandmother worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads but always had time to help Jasmine with homework and make her feel cherished.
— She sounds wonderful, — Margaret whispered.
— She was, — Jasmine said, her voice cracking with emotion. — She taught me that being poor doesn’t mean being unkind. She said you can lose everything material and still be rich if you have a good heart.
— She was right, — Margaret said, before her eyes drifted, losing focus again. — Is Catherine coming? She’s supposed to pick me up.
— She’ll be here soon, — Jasmine said, reassuring her, even though she was beginning to suspect Catherine might be gone, just like Grandma Rose.
The hours crawled by agonizingly: eight o’clock, nine o’clock, ten o’clock. Jasmine kept up a steady stream of chatter, telling stories and asking questions to keep Margaret tethered to the waking world. Margaret drifted in and out of lucidity, sometimes mistaking Jasmine for Catherine, sometimes asking for her husband, and sometimes being shockingly present.
During one lucid moment around 11 PM, Margaret looked at Jasmine with sharp, focused eyes.
— You’re freezing, — she said, her voice unexpectedly strong. — You’re going to die out here trying to save me.
— No, I’m not, — Jasmine said, though she realized she had stopped shivering, which was a dangerous sign of advanced hypothermia. — We’re going to make it through this night, both of us.
— Why are you doing this? — Margaret asked. — You don’t even know me. You could leave. You could save yourself.
Jasmine thought about that, thought about Grandma Rose’s lessons, and remembered the promise she made at her grandmother’s hospital bed.
— Because someone needed help, — Jasmine said simply. — And I was there. That’s reason enough.
Margaret reached out with a trembling hand and touched Jasmine’s cold cheek.
— Your grandmother raised you right, — she whispered. — She’d be so proud of you.
Jasmine felt tears freeze instantly on her face. By midnight, she was losing her battle. Her thoughts were scattering like leaves in the wind, her vision blurred, and her body felt heavy and distant, as if it belonged to a stranger.
Yet, she kept her arms locked around Margaret, kept the blanket tucked tight, and kept her body positioned as a shield against the wind.
— Jasmine? — Margaret’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. — Are you still there?
— Still here, — Jasmine mumbled, forcing the words through numb lips. — Not going anywhere.
— Don’t leave me, — Margaret said, sounding like a frightened child. — Please don’t leave me alone.
— Never, — Jasmine promised. — I’m not leaving you.
Around two in the morning, Jasmine lost all sensation in her hands and feet. Her core temperature had dropped dangerously low, and the logical part of her brain knew she was dying. But Margaret was still alive, still breathing warmly against her chest, and that had to be enough.
Jasmine thought about her grandmother, about the Sunday mornings spent braiding hair, and about the advice to stay kind even when the world was cruel.
— I kept my promise, Grandma, — Jasmine whispered into the dark void. — I stayed kind right to the end.
Margaret stirred slightly.
— Who are you talking to?
— My grandmother, — Jasmine said. — Telling her I love her.
— Tell mine I love her too, — Margaret said dreamily. — And my Catherine. Tell them all I love them.
— I will, — Jasmine promised, certain that they would both be frozen statues on these steps by sunrise. Two lost souls who found each other at the end of the line.
The snow began to fall heavily around 3 AM, big flakes that accumulated rapidly, covering them in a white, frozen shroud. Jasmine’s consciousness began to flicker like a dying lightbulb. One moment she felt the cold and Margaret’s weight; the next, she was somewhere warm and safe with Grandma Rose smiling at her.
— Just a little longer, — Jasmine told herself every time she jolted back to the painful reality. — Just hold on a little longer.
She didn’t know if anyone was coming, didn’t know if they would ever be found, or if closing her eyes meant the final curtain. All she knew was that she wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t leave Margaret alone, and wouldn’t break her promise.
At 5:47 in the morning, brilliant headlights swept across the steps. Jasmine tried to open her eyes, but her eyelashes were frozen shut. She heard a car door slam violently, footsteps pounding on the pavement, and a scream that tore through the air.
— Mom! Oh my God, Mom!
Jasmine forced her eyes open just a slit. A woman was sprinting toward them—tall, dark-skinned, wearing an expensive coat, her face twisted in absolute horror. This had to be Catherine, Margaret’s daughter.
Jasmine tried to explain, but her voice was gone. She gathered every ounce of remaining strength to push the words out.
— She was lost, — Jasmine whispered, barely audible. — I couldn’t… couldn’t leave her.
And then, the world went black.
Jasmine woke up to a sensation of burning warmth, a deep thaw that hurt almost as much as the freezing had. She was in a hospital bed, buried under a pile of heavy heated blankets. An IV dripped steadily into her arm, and monitors beeped a rhythmic cadence beside her.
Panic surged for a moment. Hospitals meant bills she couldn’t pay and questions she couldn’t answer. But then a nurse materialized, a woman with kind eyes and a soft touch.
— Welcome back, sweetheart, — she said gently. — You gave us quite a scare.
— Margaret, — Jasmine croaked, her throat feeling like sandpaper. — Is she…?
— Mrs. Stone is fine, — the nurse said with a reassuring smile. — Mild hypothermia, but she’s going to be perfectly okay. Thanks to you.
The nurse’s eyes welled with tears.
— You saved her life, honey. You almost died doing it, but you saved her life.
Jasmine felt a massive weight lift from her chest; Margaret was alive, and that was all that mattered. The door opened, and the woman from the steps walked in—Margaret’s daughter. Up close, she looked to be in her late forties, with natural hair pulled back in a neat bun and eyes red and swollen from crying.
Behind her stood two police officers. Jasmine’s stomach tightened into a knot. Here it came—the interrogation, the suspicion, the assumption of guilt.
But the female officer stepped forward, her expression surprisingly soft.
— I’m Detective Lisa Washington, — she said. — This is Officer James Torres. We just need to understand what happened. You’re not in trouble, sweetheart.
So Jasmine told them the whole story: finding Margaret in the alley, the futile attempt to find her home, giving her the jacket and the blanket, and sitting with her through the harrowing night.
— You gave her your only jacket? — Catherine Stone asked quietly, her voice trembling. — In fifteen-degree weather?
— Yes, ma’am, — Jasmine said. — She needed it more than me.
— And this blanket, — Catherine said, holding up Grandma Rose’s worn quilt, now clean and folded. — The hospital staff said you told them it was all you had left of your grandmother?
Jasmine nodded, unable to trust her voice. Catherine’s eyes filled with fresh tears.
— Why? Why would you give up something so precious for a stranger?
— Because she needed someone, — Jasmine stated simply. — And I was there.
Detective Washington closed her notebook with a definitive snap.
— Ms. Stone, the report will show that this young woman saved your mother’s life. I’ll file it that way.
After the officers departed, Catherine pulled a chair close to the bedside.
— Do you have somewhere to go when they release you? — she asked directly.
Jasmine shook her head.
— No, ma’am. But I’ll figure something out. I always do.
— No, — Catherine said firmly. — You’re coming home with us.
Jasmine blinked, confused.
— Ma’am, you don’t have to…
— You saved my mother’s life, — Catherine interrupted, her voice strong yet gentle. — You gave everything you had for a stranger. I have a guest house on my property. It’s warm, safe, and private. You can stay there for as long as you need.
— I can’t accept that, — Jasmine whispered. — You don’t even know me.
Catherine smiled sadly.
— I know enough. I watched the security footage, every minute of it. I saw you wrap your arms around my mother to keep her warm. I saw you dying to save her.
