“What are you staring at, old man?” sneered the privileged brat, kicking over a bucket of berries. But when he realized WHO this “just some old guy” by the highway really washis life split into BEFORE and AFTER.
The sun was dipping toward the horizon, painting the sky crimson and gold, as a sleek black SUV sped down the wide freeway cutting through the heart of the city. Its engine roared like a beast unleashed, its tires barely grazing the asphalt, leaving only a faint trail of dust. Behind the wheel sat Igoryoung, ambitious, dressed in an expensive suit, a briefcase on the passenger seat. Every motion radiated determination, every thought laser-focused on one goal: the crucial meeting with a powerful businessmana deal that could change his career forever.
Negotiations had dragged on for monthsendless calls, emails, bargainingbut now, the moment of truth had arrived. Igors pulse hammered in his chestnot from fear, but from the thrill of standing on the edge of something monumental. He couldnt afford to be late. Not for this. He could already picture it: signing the contract, raising a toast to success, earning respect in the business world.
Then, at the most critical moment, his phone rang. The screen flashed”Mom.” He clenched his jaw. If he didnt answer, shed call again and again, like always. Reluctantly, he pressed the button.
“Yeah, Mom, Im driving,” he snapped, forcing calm into his voice despite the irritation creeping in.
“Igor, listen, I was at the salon with Lida,” came the familiar, nagging tone. “Can you believe her esthetician said her skin looks twenty years younger? And, well, I went too, and”
“Mom, I dont have time!” he cut in, pressing the gas harder. “Im on the highway for a major meeting!”
“Oh, the highway?” she perked up. “Then, could you pick up some farm eggs? You know, the old ladies sell them roadsidefresh, organic! Ill make you dumplings!”
He rolled his eyes. Eggs? Now? His mind was consumed by numbers, strategies, million-dollar dealsnot eggs, sour cream, and grandmas recipes. But to end the call faster, he muttered,
“Fine, Mom, Ill get them. Just drop it.”
He hung up, the irritation boiling inside him. How could she be so oblivious? He was on the brink of greatness, and she was worried about eggs?
Minutes later, he spotted theman old couple sitting by the roadside with a woven basket. He slowed, hoping for eggs. Instead, dark, glistening blackcurrants sparkled like jewels in the sun. The old man, in a worn-out cap and tired but kind eyes, looked up.
“Son, look at these berries!” he called with a smile. “Fresh, juicy, straight from the garden! Full of vitamins! Make jamyoull thank me in winter!”
Igor grimaced. Why would he need currants? He didnt make jam. He didnt even know what to do with them. But remembering his promise, he stepped closer. Maybe there were eggs.
“Got any eggs?” he asked, straining for politeness.
“No, son, not today. But these currantstop quality! Try one, free!”
Igor shook his head. The old man persisted.
“Your loss. These berries are medicine. Strengthen the heart, cleanse the blood, warm the soul. I eat a handful every daykeeps me going.”
Igors anger surged. Why should he care about some old mans heart? Hed already wasted time, and now this nonsense about berries like it mattered.
“Old man, Im in a hurry!” he snapped. “I dont have time for this!”
In a flash of rage, without thinking, he kicked the bucket. Berries scattered like black splatter. The old man gasped, stumbled, and hit the pavement with a sickening thud as his head struck the buckets rim.
“Grandpa! Oh, God!” shrieked one of the old ladies nearby, rushing to him.
Igor turned back, his heart seizing. The man lay motionlesspale, eyes closed. One woman tried lifting him, another fumbled with a phone, hands trembling.
“Whats wrong with him?” Igor asked, a chill crawling down his spine.
“Look what youve done!” a woman screeched, jabbing a finger at him. “Hes sick, his hearts weak! Now hes fainted! He lives off these berrieseach one like bread to him! And you ruined it! Wholl buy them now?”
The ground seemed to drop beneath Igor. He hadnt meant to hurt anyonehed just snapped. But now he mightve done real damage. He couldnt leave.
“Wheres the nearest hospital?” he demanded, pulling out his phone.
“Twenty kilometers down the road, turn right,” one woman said. “Hurry, or he wont make it!”
Without hesitation, Igor lifted the frail old manlight as a birdand laid him in the backseat. The car roared forward as if sensing every second counted. Eggs? Dumplings? The meeting? Gone. Only one thing mattered nowsaving him.
At the hospital, chaos erupted. The doctors recognized him instantly.
“Thats Grandpa Vasily! Hes got arrhythmia, blood pressure issues!” one shouted. “Get him to ICU!”
Igor stood numb. He didnt know his name, his story. But now, everything depended on him. He confessed honestly when questioned.
“We need to call his wife,” a nurse said.
Soon, a trembling, tear-streaked old woman arrivedhis wife. The others had called.
“Was it you?” she whispered, eyes locked on Igor.
“I didnt mean” he started, but words failed.
“Its fine,” she sighed. “Just let him live.”
The doctors called it a heart attackstress, the fall, the impact. But hed survivewith expensive, rare medication. Igor pulled out his card without hesitation.
“Ill cover everything,” he said firmly.
For an hour, he fought with pharmacies, demanding urgent deliveries. The man accustomed to luxury was now scrambling for someone elses survival.
When it was done, he stepped outside. The sky had darkened. His phone showed twelve missed calls from Mom. He dialed her back.
“Igor! Are you alive?!” she screamed. “I was going mad! You werent at that café, were you?”
“What café?”
“The one for your meeting! It burned down todayeveryone inside died! I heard it on the news! I called and calledwhy didnt you answer? I thought you were there!”
His blood froze. The meeting time. Hed missed itbecause hed raced to the hospital. That “chance” had saved his life.
The next morning, the news listed the dead. Among themhis would-be business partner. If not for the old man, the currants, his anger Igor wouldve been there. Dead.
The next day, he returned to the hospital. The old man was awakeweak but alive.
“Im sorry,” Igor whispered, head bowed. “I was cruel. I didnt understand”
“Ah, its alright, son,” the old man murmured. “Lifes hard. My roof leaks, my wifes sick, the neighbors dont help. I sell berriesfor medicine, for bread. Then you kicked my bucket But maybe fate meant it.”
Something shattered inside Igor. The successful, wealthy businessman saw another worldone where people fought for every ruble, where an old man sold berries to keep his wife alive.
He didnt just apologize. He promised more.
“Ill pay for your wifes treatment. Hire a nurse. Get workers to fix your roofproperly. My expense.”
The old man stared, disbelieving.
“Why?”
“Because you saved me,” Igor said softly. “If not for you, Id be dead. And I almost killed you. Now I owe you.”
From that day on, Igor changed. He became kinder, more aware. He learned that success isnt in wealthbut in actions. That lifes most important meetings are unplanned. That fate sometimes knocks in the form of an old man and a bucket of currants. And if you dont kick it overit might just open a new life.
