A heavily pregnant taxi driver offers a homeless and injured stranger a free ride to the hospital on a rainy night. The next morning, she wakes up to a parade of SUVs outside her house. Suited men knock on her door with a truth that alters her life forever.
After two years behind the wheel, Cleo had seen every kind of passenger a taxi could carry: the 3 a.m. party crowds stumbling over their feet, families racing to catch flights, and guilty-looking businessmen who reeked of cocktails and bad decisions. She’d heard every story, dried more than a few tears, and learned to read people before they even opened her cab door.
A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
The yellow cab’s headlights cut through the November fog as Cleo guided her taxi down the empty streets of downtown that night.
Her back ached and the baby seemed determined to practice gymnastics against her ribs. At eight months pregnant, her night shift was getting harder. But bills don’t pay themselves, right?
“Just a few more hours, my love,” she whispered, rubbing her swollen belly. “Then we can go home to Chester.”
The baby kicked in response, making her smile despite everything. Chester, her orange tabby, was probably sprawled across her pillow at home, shedding orange fur everywhere. These days, that cat was the closest thing Cleo had as a family.
A tabby cat sitting on a table | Source: Unsplash
The mention of home brought unwanted memories flooding back. Five months ago, she’d bounded up those same stairs to their apartment, her heart racing with excitement.
She’d planned everything perfectly — the candle-lit dinner, her husband Mark’s favorite lasagna, the little pair of baby shoes she’d wrapped in silver paper.
“We’re having a baby, honey!” she’d said, sliding the package across the table.
A woman holding tiny baby shoes | Source: Freepik
Mark had stared at the shoes, his face draining of color. The silence stretched until Cleo couldn’t bear it.
“Say something.”
“I can’t do this, Cleo.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“Jessica’s pregnant too. With my child. Three months along.”
The candles had burned low as Cleo’s world collapsed. Jessica. His secretary. The woman he’d sworn was “just a friend.”
An upset man | Source: Pexels
“How long were you cheating on me?”
“Does it matter?”
It hadn’t, really. Within a week, Mark was gone. Within two, he’d cleaned out their joint account. Now, at 32, Cleo worked double shifts, trying to save enough for when the baby arrived.
“Your father might have forgotten about us,” she whispered to her bump, forcing back tears as she snapped back to the moment, “but we’re gonna make it. You’ll see.”
A teary-eyed woman | Source: Unsplash
But that night, just three weeks before her due date, with her ankles swollen and her maternity uniform straining against her belly, Cleo encountered something different.
The clock read 11:43 p.m. when she spotted him — a lone figure stumbling along the highway’s shoulder.
Through the haze of street lamps and drizzling rain, he emerged like a ghost from the shadows of 42nd Street. Even from a distance, something about him made her pulse quicken.
Silhouette of a man on the road at night | Source: Pexels
His clothes hung in dirty tatters and his dark hair plastered his face in wet ropes. He cradled one arm against his chest, dragging his right leg as he stumbled along the empty sidewalk.
Cleo’s hand instinctively moved to her rounded belly as she watched the man through the windshield. She should have been home an hour ago, curled up with Chester, who always purred against her stomach as if serenading the baby.
But something about this man’s desperation, the way he swayed with each step as if fighting to stay upright, made her grip her steering wheel tighter instead of driving away.
Night shot of a shocked woman driving a car | Source: Freepik
In her two years of driving nights, Cleo had learned to spot trouble. And everything about this scene screamed danger.
Through the fog, she made out more details. He was a young guy, maybe mid-20s, in what had once been expensive clothes.
He clutched his right arm, and even in the dim light, she could see dark crimson stains on his sleeve. His face was a mess of bruises, one eye swollen shut.
Grayscale shot of a man on a sidewalk | Source: Pexels
A car appeared in her rearview mirror, moving fast. The man’s head snapped up, terror written across his face. He tried to run but stumbled.
“Don’t do it, Cleo,” she whispered. “Not tonight. Not when you’re eight months pregnant.”
But she was already pulling over.
Rolling down her window just a crack, she called out, “You okay? Need help?”
The stranger jerked around, his eyes wide with fear. Sweat fused in dark crimson trickled from a cut above his eyebrow. “I just need to get somewhere safe.”
A terrified man’s eyes | Source: Unsplash
The approaching car’s engine roared louder.
“Get in!” Cleo unlocked the doors. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
The guy climbed in and collapsed into the backseat as Cleo hit the gas. The pursuing car’s headlights flooded her mirror.
“They’re still coming,” he panted, ducking low. “Thank you. Most wouldn’t stop.”
Cleo’s heart hammered. “Hold on.”
A startled woman sitting in a car | Source: Freepik
She took a sharp right, then another, weaving through side streets she knew by heart. The car behind them kept pace.
“Who are they?” she asked, taking another sharp turn that made her passenger grab the door handle.
“Faster… faster. They’ll catch us…”
A second set of headlights appeared ahead. They were being boxed in.
View of headlights of a car approaching in the distance | Source: Pexels
“Trust me?” Cleo asked, already turning the wheel.
“What?”
She cut through an abandoned parking lot, scraping under a partially lowered gate. The pursuing cars couldn’t follow and the gap was barely big enough for her taxi.
“Two years of dodging drunk passengers who don’t want to pay,” she explained, checking her mirror. No headlights. “Never thought those skills would come in handy tonight.”
The baby kicked hard, making her wince.
An empty parking lot | Source: Pexels
“You’re pregnant,” the stranger said, noticing her discomfort. “God, I’m so sorry. I’ve put you both in danger.”
“Sometimes the biggest risk is doing nothing.” She met his eyes in the mirror. “I’m Cleo.”
“Thank you, Cleo. Most people… they would’ve just ignored me.”
“Yeah, well, most people haven’t learned how quickly life can change.”
After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived at the hospital. Before stepping out, the man grabbed her arm gently.
A hospital | Source: Pexels
“Why did you stop?” His good eye studied her face.
“The world’s not exactly kind to taxi drivers these days, especially not pregnant ones working alone at night.”
Cleo thought about it. “This morning, I watched a woman step over a homeless man having a seizure. Didn’t even pause her phone call. I promised myself I wouldn’t become that person… someone so scared of the world that they forget their humanity.”
A homeless man lying on the street | Source: Pexels
He nodded slowly. “You didn’t have to do this. Because what you did tonight… it’s beyond your understanding.”
Cleo hesitated for a moment, her eyes meeting his. She gave a small, reassuring smile.
With that, she turned and walked toward her waiting taxi. As she stepped inside, she glanced back one last time, whispering, “What did he mean?”
A woman driving a car on a busy road | Source: Unsplash
The rest of the night was a blur. Cleo went home, had a simple dinner, and fed her cat. But her mind was a jumbled mess, replaying the events of the night as she drifted off to sleep.
A loud rumble of engines jolted her awake from her sleep the next morning. Chester abandoned his spot on her pillow, his fur standing on end as if he were cornered by the neighbor’s dog.
“What is it, Chester?” Cleo fought her way out of bed and froze at the window.
A woman looking out the window | Source: Pexels
A motorcade of sleek black SUVs, at least a dozen, lined her modest street. Men in dark suits and earpieces moved with military precision, setting up a perimeter around her house.
“Oh God. Who are these men? Had I helped a criminal last night?” Cleo gasped.
A knock interrupted her racing thoughts. Peering through the peephole, she saw three men. One was sharply dressed in an expensive suit, another wore an earpiece, and the third was eerily familiar.
Cars on a road | Source: Pixabay
“No way,” she whispered, recognizing the stranger from the previous night.
Gone were the torn clothes and crimson stains, replaced by an impeccable suit that probably cost more than her monthly fare.
She opened the door with trembling hands.
A young man in a crisp suit | Source: Pexels
“Ma’am!” the first man bowed slightly. “I’m James, head of security for the Atkinson family. This is Mr. Atkinson and his son, Archie, whom you helped last night.”
The world tilted. The Atkinsons — the billionaire family whose tech empire dominated headlines. Their son had been kidnapped three days ago, the ransom set at 50 million.
And she’d picked him up on the side of the road.
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
“They had me for three days,” Archie explained, perched on her worn couch while Chester sniffed his shoes. “When they moved me last night, I saw my chance to escape at the gas station. But they were close. If you hadn’t stopped—”
“The men pursuing you,” his father added, “were captured an hour after you dropped Archie at the hospital. Your quick thinking didn’t just save my son, it helped us catch a dangerous kidnapping ring.”
Mr. Atkinson then held out an envelope. Inside was a check that made Cleo’s legs go weak.
A smiling rich older man | Source: Freepik
“Sir, this is too much. I can’t—”
“It’s nothing compared to what you did,” he smiled gently. “Consider it an investment in both your futures!” he said, glancing at her belly. “No child should start life wondering how their mother will provide for them.”
Tears spilled down Cleo’s cheeks as Chester jumped onto Archie’s lap, purring loudly.
“There’s more,” Archie added, leaning forward. “We want you to run our foundation’s new community safety initiative. The world needs more people who aren’t afraid to stop and help. People like you, Cleo.”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Pexels
“If you ever need anything, please call us,” Mr. Atkinson said, handing a business card, his voice soft with sincerity and gratitude. “We’re forever indebted to you.”
Cleo smiled and a weak, “Thank you!” escaped her lips as tears of joy and relief filled her eyes.
As they left, she felt the weight of the past few months lift. For the first time since Mark walked out, she allowed herself to believe things might just turn out to be okay.
Cleo looked down at her belly, smiling through her tears. “Heard that, little one? Looks like Mommy’s night job just got an upgrade. And we did it by just being human!”
A pregnant woman holding her belly | Source: Unsplash
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Catherine Deneuve: The 60s Icon Who Still Stuns the World With Her Timeless Beauty
It’s been nearly sixty years since 24-year-old Catherine Deneuve and her older sister Françoise Dorléac starred as twins in *The Young Girls of Rochefort*.
The movie, which also featured a young Gene Kelly, was the last film the sisters made together. Deneuve went on to become internationally famous, while Françoise’s life and career were tragically cut short.
Born into an acting family, Deneuve, now 79, made her first appearance in the 1957 French movie *The Twilight Girls*. Her big break came in 1960 when she starred in *The Umbrellas of Cherbourg*, a romantic musical that highlighted her French style and innocence, launching her into stardom. This was just the beginning of many films she would make with director Jacques Demy.
Her talent for dramatic roles caught the eye of legendary director Roman Polanski, who cast her in the psychological thriller *Repulsion*. Deneuve’s brilliant performance as Carol, a mentally troubled woman, earned her the nickname “ice maiden.” This image was solidified in her next film, *Belle de Jour*, where she played a housewife who secretly works as a prostitute—a role that won her awards and global fame.
In 1963, Deneuve became a mother, having a son with French screenwriter Roger Vadim. She later had the chance to star alongside her older sister, Françoise Dorléac, in the 1967 musical *The Young Girls of Rochefort*. The two sisters were very close, and with their similar looks, playing twins in the movie felt natural.
But just three months after *Rochefort* was released, tragedy struck. Françoise, at only 25, died in a car accident, a moment Deneuve describes as the most painful in her life.
“The day I lost my sister, I lost my joy of living… it is the most painful thing I have experienced,” she shared in an interview with *Paris Match*, a French weekly magazine.
The loss of her sister didn’t slow down Catherine Deneuve, who became the epitome of 1960s glamor, often seen as a femme fatale wrapped in Yves Saint Laurent.
Deneuve, known as the face of French cinema, has appeared in over 120 films throughout her 60-year career. Reflecting on how the industry has changed, Deneuve explained, “Human nature is vast. There are roles more suited to people of my generation. As you age, it’s the same in life—you gain experience and play characters you couldn’t when you were 30.” She added, “It’s hard to find the right path. You can age better in Europe than in America. But women today look younger than they did 50 years ago. Back then, a 50-year-old woman looked her age. Now, not so much.”
Despite her worldwide fame, Deneuve has mostly starred in French films, with only a few roles in English-language films.
Catherine Deneuve explained why she mostly supports French cinema, saying, “I feel very French, but I speak Italian and English, so I feel very European. However, I don’t feel close to English people. Even though England is not far, their sensibility and character are very different.” She added, “I feel closer to Spanish or Italian people because the Latin character is different from the Anglo-Saxon one. We have different educations and cultures.”
Some of her English-speaking roles include *The April Fools* with Jack Lemmon (1969), *Hustle* with Burt Reynolds (1973), *March or Die* with Gene Hackman (1977), and the 1983 cult classic *The Hunger*, where she played a lesbian vampire alongside David Bowie and Susan Sarandon.
In 1972, Deneuve divorced British photographer David Bailey, whom she married in 1965 after meeting at a Playboy shoot. Their wedding guests included Mick Jagger. From 1970 to 1974, she was in a relationship with Italian film icon Marcello Mastroianni, with whom she had a daughter in 1972.
In 1980, Catherine Deneuve delivered an award-nominated performance in *The Last Metro*, starring alongside another famous French actor, Gérard Depardieu. This marked the beginning of a successful collaboration, as they would appear in 15 films together.
Deneuve mentioned that she and Depardieu have similar work styles, saying, “We are both instinctive actors. We prefer to arrive on set and figure things out in the moment rather than rehearse ahead of time.”
In the 1990s, Deneuve received an Oscar nomination and a César Award (France’s national film award) for her role in the French period drama *Indochine*. The film, released in 1992, also won an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.
The 2000s introduced Catherine Deneuve to new roles, including the award-winning musical drama *Dancer in the Dark*, where she starred alongside the unique Icelandic singer Björk. In 2010, she reunited with Gérard Depardieu for the eighth time in the film *Potiche*.
After appearing in the 2019 film *The Truth* with Ethan Hawke and Juliette Binoche, Deneuve was filming the French movie *Peaceful* when she was hospitalized due to a stroke. Although her family described it as a “very limited” ischemic stroke, production on the film was delayed until July 2020, when the then 76-year-old actress was able to return. Deneuve, who had smoked since she was 16, finally quit after her month-long hospital stay.
Honored with a lifetime achievement award at the 2022 Venice Film Festival, the French icon, who celebrates her 80th birthday this year, continues to thrive, and we look forward to seeing her in many more films!
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