Chapter 2 begins with a jolt—one that leaves me startled on the wet pavement, Bear’s leash tugging insistently in my hand as the sharp scent of rain and engine oil fills the air. The sleek car, now creased and steaming near the curb, looms in my peripheral vision. Chapter 2 forces me to meet the eyes of the man who caused it all—Alex, as he later introduces himself—removing his sunglasses to reveal a concerned expression that seems surprisingly sincere, especially given the circumstances.

He kneels down slightly to gauge if I’m injured, the drizzle clinging to both our clothes. I feel the grit of wet gravel on my palms as I get up, and there’s an odd mix of shame and shock tightening in my chest. “I’m okay,” I manage to say, my voice thin, dampened by the moment. He reassures me, emphasizing that it’s just a car—his words calm, but his sidelong glance at the damage betrays the sting of loss beneath his calm exterior.

The irony of the situation isn’t lost on me—he’s the one with a six-figure car now bent out of shape, yet he’s the one asking if I’m all right. As we speak, I notice his coat—clean lines, quality fabric, no label showing but clearly expensive—and how it contrasts with my wet jeans and thrifted jacket. Thornfield Estates men have a certain look: polished, deliberate, and distant. But Alex’s demeanor is something else entirely. There’s warmth in his voice, even as he apologizes again, as though he’s the one who’d wronged me.

Bear remains close to my leg, his earlier barking now replaced with a low, steady breath. I wonder if dogs can detect class differences, or if he’s just unsettled by the tension. Alex offers to cover any medical costs if I need to be seen, and when I wave him off, he nods, not pressing the issue. There’s a pause before he speaks again, “Just don’t hesitate if something changes. I mean that.”

The words linger after he says them. He doesn’t give me a card or a number, which should make the gesture feel hollow, but somehow it doesn’t. It felt real—an offer meant to stand on principle more than logistics. Then he returns to his car, now humming unevenly as it pulls away, leaving a thin trail of mist behind the tires, and I’m left in the foggy quiet of a post-accident moment.

Walking Bear back through the dripping sidewalks of Mountain Brook Village, I catch my reflection in a shop window. Wet hair, dirt on my knees, and a look I barely recognize. Yet, in the strange way fate works, I had shared an unguarded moment with someone from a world that doesn’t usually see people like me unless we’re delivering groceries or trimming hedges. Chapter 2 blurs those lines, if only for a few short minutes.

Back at my apartment, the dampness clings to me like a second skin, but the encounter replays in loops. I search “Alex Thornfield Estates” just out of curiosity, and nothing obvious comes up. I don’t even know if he’s one of the long-time residents or someone just passing through, maybe staying with a friend. That’s the thing about places like Thornfield—they have so much surface gloss that it hides every seam.

Bear snoozes near my feet as I sip a mug of reheated coffee, thinking how surreal it was to be asked, genuinely asked, if I was all right by someone who could buy my entire life ten times over. It makes me wonder if there’s more to these people than privilege and performance. Maybe not all of them are so different after all. Still, the subtle power imbalance of the whole moment doesn’t escape me.

As I look out the window, past the rain-streaked glass, the cars pass by without pause. Somewhere out there, Alex is probably explaining the dented hood to a mechanic or his insurance agent, maybe even laughing it off at dinner tonight. But I’ll remember it differently. Chapter 2 reminds me that Thornfield Estates isn’t just a place of old money and manicured perfection—it’s a place where lives touch, even if only for a fleeting, accidental moment.