“Don’t get in the blue car… it goes to the cemetery…”

Emily had laughed at the gypsy’s warning years ago. But the memory returned like a punch to the gut the night Josh invited them for a drive. When she asked about the car’s original color, he casually replied, “Blue.” Her heart dropped. Something deep inside told her to walk away.

She did.

Hours later, Emily got the call. There’d been an accident—Josh’s car swerved off a cliff. He and Lindsey were critical. Days later, Josh died. Emily, spared by instinct or fate, felt guilty. At the funeral, she saw the gypsy again. “Some things are written,” the woman told her. “You listened.”

Lindsey later woke from her coma and whispered, “I dreamt of you… not getting in. And a woman… warning you.”

Shaken, Emily decided to honor her second chance. She volunteered at the hospital. She gave back. She lived with purpose.

One day, she saw the gypsy again, now selling flowers.

“For a friend?” the woman asked.

Emily smiled. “For both of us. I listened once. I’ll keep listening.”

The woman nodded. “Some call it superstition. Others—destiny.”

Sometimes, a warning saves a life. Sometimes, it awakens one. Emily learned the difference. And never forgot it.