Tag: Stories

When Emily’s sister-in-law plans an elaborate potluck, she feels nothing but dread at the things that Jessica insists she take along. Trying to keep her budget in mind, Emily makes a casserole to take with, but Jessica dismisses it, and her. It’s only when karma steps in, that Jessica has no choice but to eat humble pie.

Despite how hard I tried to make things work with her, she just had a knack for making me feel small, always flaunting her luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes.

“I can’t make any apologies for my sister,” Mark said one day when I was complaining about something that Jessica said. “I know how frustrated you get, and I wish that I could help make it better.”

“No, I know,” I said to him. “I don’t want you to do anything and strain your relationship with the family. I’ll just ignore her as much as I can.”

When Mark lost his job, it was due to the company wanting younger blood in.

“I don’t understand why Steven would want younger people with basically no experience to come in and take over,” Mark said, talking about his boss.

Recently, he was working with a mechanic, learning more about the trade as he went.

Our evenings were spent poring over bills and bank statements, trying to stretch our budget as much as we could.

“I’m so sorry, Emily,” my husband told me. “We’re going to get through this. I promise you. I’m still doing everything I can to get back into the financial industry.”

I believed my own words, but the weight of it all was relentless, pressing down on us constantly.

Naturally, it had to get worse before it got remotely better.

“Hi Emily,” Jessica said on the phone, her words dragging as she spoke.

“Jess, hi,” I said, instantly regretting answering the phone.

If I thought that I was dreading the potluck before, Jessica’s message to the family group chat solidified how much I didn’t want to go.

Hi family, remember that the theme for the potluck is luxury. Here are some of the things that you can bring:

Gourmet cheeses, imported chocolates, and high-end wines. You can go ahead and choose which country you want to pick.

“I know you want to skip the entire event,” Mark said when I read the list out to him. “But you can’t miss this. It’s for my father at the end of the day, okay?”

I nodded. If it were any other dinner, I would have skipped it altogether, but this one was particularly important. It was a celebration of my father-in-law’s retirement, and I knew that it meant the world to Mark.

“I can’t afford to skip my shift at the mechanic shop,” he said. “I have no choice but to go. So you have to represent us there.”

“No, I know,” I agreed with him. “It’s just that your sister makes everything so difficult.”

My husband sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“I don’t know how we can afford to get anything on the list Jessica sent,” I said.

“We’ll figure something out. We always do,” Mark said, sitting down to eat dinner.

“That sounds like a plan,” I said, smiling.

I decided to make a hearty homemade casserole. I used the age-old recipe that my grandmother had passed down, and with a few tweaks, it had become my version of the dish.

“It’s delicious and always a hit with me,” Mark said as he got ready for his shift on the day of the potluck.

I arrived at Jessica’s house with my casserole, hoping she wouldn’t make a scene. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, she eyed my dish with disdain.

“Emily, what is this?” she asked, her nose wrinkled.

“It’s a family recipe,” I said. “I thought that it would be nice to bring something homemade among all the things you wanted.”

“Homemade? Emily, this is a potluck for goodness’ sake, not a soup kitchen. Everyone else is bringing delicacies, and you decide to show up with this? Don’t you know that Gretchen is bringing three different types of caviar? Why would you choose to embarrass yourself like this?” she asked.

She waved her hand dismissively over my dish and sighed.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment and anger.

“I couldn’t afford the things on your list,” I said. “Your brother and I are doing the best we can.”

She crossed her arms and smirked at me.

My sister-in-law’s words stung. I had never felt so humiliated before. Without saying another word, I picked up my casserole and left the kitchen.

“Where are you going, Em?” my mother-in-law asked me as I was almost out the front door.

“Home,” I replied softly. “I’m not feeling well and it’s not fair that I get to be here without Mark.”

My mother-in-law looked me up and down, her eyes softening.

I nodded.

I knew that she wouldn’t ask me anything else. Not in this setting anyway. And I hoped that she would just walk away. I was on the verge of tears, and if she had anything else to say, I knew I would just break down.

“Okay then,” she said. “I’ll call to check up on you later.”

As I walked to my car, the weight of the past year bore down on me. The sleepless nights, the constant worry, the feeling of never being good enough for the family.

“Come on, Emily,” I muttered to myself as I got into the shower.

I was determined to wash off the day and all my feelings before Mark got home.

“You’re home?” my husband asked as he walked into our bedroom. “I didn’t expect you to be in.”

I sat up and told him everything, watching the display of emotions race across his face.

“I’ll call her in the morning,” he promised. “She will not speak to you like this again.”

But karma played her game first.

“Em,” she said the moment I answered, giggling away. “You won’t believe what happened last night!”

“What is it?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Jessica’s potluck was a complete disaster. Apparently, her helper didn’t plug the fridge in properly after cleaning it and everything that she had prepared was spoiled. The smell was something else!”

I couldn’t help but laugh with Sarah. This was karma, pure and simple. Jessica’s insistence on perfection and her dismissal of my food had backfired spectacularly.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

I Hired a Fake Boyfriend for Our Family Dinner – It Turned Out to Be the Best Decision of My Life

I love my family, but family gatherings used to be a nightmare for me. Every single time we got together, my sister Emily would find some way or the other to poke fun at my single life.

Last Thanksgiving, she took it too far and even set a place at the table for my “imaginary boyfriend,” complete with a hand-drawn face on a napkin. Everyone around the table laughed while I forced a smile.

It was anything but funny.

Now, my father’s birthday is coming up, and of course, it was to be celebrated with a family dinner.

“There’s no way I can sit through another one of those events with my family,” I told my friend, Kate, when we met for coffee.

“I’m telling you now, Emily probably has something up her sleeve already,” I grumbled.

“Hire a man?” I exclaimed.

Read the full story here.

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.

I’ll never forget the night my father missed my birthday dinner. Not because it was some grand affair but because of what he chose to do instead. It was like watching the last thread of our bond snap and realizing he didn’t even notice.

Like when I was 14, and my mom sat me down with her nervous eyes, holding my hands too tightly.

“Sweetheart, your dad and I…” she started, then took a deep breath. “We’ve decided to separate.”

I was too young to understand what made couples part ways.

“Separate?” I asked. “Is it because of me? Did I do something?”

“Oh, no, honey. It’s not your fault,” she said, hugging me tight. “It’s nothing you did.”

That’s when she looked at me and said something I’ll never forget.

“Sometimes, it’s best for adults to stay apart. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love you. And it doesn’t mean you won’t see us together when it matters. Your dad and I will always be there for you, Nyla.”

Always be there for me. I clung to those words back then like a lifeline. And to be fair, Mom kept her promise.

But Dad? Nope. I’m not even sure he knew he had to be there for me.

After the divorce, he wasn’t around much. Sure, he’d call, but only when it was convenient for him.

And when it came to the big moments, he just wasn’t there.

Like the time I had my first solo in a school recital. I’d told him about it weeks in advance. I practiced endlessly and even saved him a seat right in the middle of the auditorium.

I kept checking the door during the performance, hoping to see his face. But he never showed. Later, when I called to ask why, he sighed like I was inconveniencing him.

He also missed the most important day of my teenage years. My high school graduation.

When he called after the ceremony, all I got was, “Something came up.” No explanation. No apology.

It wasn’t until months after the divorce that I discovered why he’d been so absent. He had married another woman, Linda, and he hadn’t even told me until after it happened.

“She’s wonderful,” he said over the phone. “And she has a daughter, Emma. She’s two. I think you’ll really like her.”

I figured Dad was trying to be there for her. He was trying to build a relationship with his new family.

I told myself that was okay. I could share him if it meant he was being a good father to her.

At least, that’s what I thought at first.

Over time, it became clear that it wasn’t just about building a relationship with Emma. It was like I’d been moved to the back burner.

He missed birthdays, holidays, and milestones, always with an excuse about how “Emma needed him” or “Linda had something planned.”

“Your dad loves you, Nyla,” she’d say. “He’s just trying to figure things out right now. Be patient, and don’t hold it against him.”

“But, Mom, he doesn’t even try!” I’d argue. “It’s like I don’t even matter to him anymore.”

“He’s doing his best. You’ll see. Just give him another chance.”

I believed her and gave him so many chances. I almost stopped thinking about his absence when I made friends in college.

Spending time with them filled the void he’d left, and that’s where I met Barney.

He wasn’t just the funny guy everyone loved to be around. He was also the first person who made me feel truly seen.

We started as friends, but it didn’t take long for our connection to deepen. What stood out to me about Barney was his unwavering presence. He showed up for me in ways Dad never had. Whether it was cheering me on during finals or making me soup when I caught the flu, Barney was always there.

And before I knew it, he became my safe place. The one person who made me feel like I mattered.

He thought I was important. Unlike Dad.

Mom, Dad, Linda, Emma, and a few close relatives were all invited. But this wasn’t just about celebrating another year of life.

I had big news to share. News I’d been holding onto for weeks, imagining the look of pride on my dad’s face when he found out.

I spent the entire week preparing.

My living room was decorated with steamers, balloons, and a perfectly set table. I’d even ordered a custom cake from a local baker with “Happy Birthday, Nyla” piped in elegant script.

“You should have a great time with your family, Nyla,” he said. “Your dad’s gonna be here, and I want you to enjoy your time with him.”

I shook my head and grabbed his hand.

“No, I need you to stay,” I said. “There’s something I want to share tonight. Something I haven’t even told you yet.”

“You’re keeping secrets from me now?” he teased, but his smile softened. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”

By the time the evening rolled around, everything was ready. I’d slipped into a dress that made me feel confident, and Barney had even cleaned up in a crisp button-up shirt.

But two hours before the guests were supposed to arrive, my phone buzzed with a message from Dad.

Hey, can’t make it tonight. Linda and I are taking Emma to see Santa at the mall. She just decided she wanted to go. Rain check?

For a moment, I stared at the screen, rereading the message as if it would somehow make more sense the second time around. No apology. No acknowledgment of how much it hurt.

Just a casual “rain check,” like my birthday dinner was something he could squeeze in between errands.

Tears started to trickle down my cheeks as I showed Barney the message.

“Oh, Nyla…” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

When Mom arrived an hour later, I couldn’t hold back.

“He’s not coming,” I said, showing her the message. “He ditched my birthday to take Emma to see Santa.”

Mom’s face darkened, and her usual calm demeanor vanished.

“You’ve given him so many chances, Nyla,” she said. “And this is how he repays you? Enough is enough.”

The guests began arriving, and I plastered on a smile, determined not to let Dad’s absence ruin the night.

When it was time for dinner, I stood up and looked at everyone who had shown up for me.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight,” I began. “It means the world to me to celebrate with the people I love most. And tonight, I have some news to share.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out a small photo, holding it up for everyone to see.

The room erupted in cheers and congratulations.

Mom threw her arms around me, telling me how happy she was.

“I can’t believe this!” Barney exclaimed. “I can’t tell you how happy I am, babe. Thank you for this!”

For a moment, everything felt perfect.

But as I looked around the room, the sting of Dad’s absence lingered. This was a moment I’d dreamed of sharing with him, and he wasn’t here to see it.

That night, as I sat in the quiet aftermath of the party, my emotions were all over the place. I should’ve been happy because it had been a beautiful evening surrounded by people who loved me.

That’s when I picked up my phone and opened his conversation. I sent him a video of the announcement along with a simple message.

This is what you missed. Again.

I didn’t expect a response, and for days, I didn’t get one. It was like shouting into a void.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed, Nyla,” Barney said one day, trying to comfort me. “Sometimes people need a wake-up call to realize they’ve messed up.”

I wasn’t so sure. I mean, Dad had missed so many wake-up calls over the years. How was this incident any different?

He showed up at my apartment unannounced. He had this look on his face that I’d never seen. His usual confidence was absent, and he stood there with his shoulders slumped.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

I nodded and stepped aside.

He walked in and sat on the edge of my couch like he wasn’t sure he deserved to be there. I sat across from him and waited for him to speak.

“I’ve been a terrible father to you.”

I stayed silent, unsure what to say.

“I’ve missed so much,” he continued, his voice cracking. “Your birthdays, your achievements, and all the moments that mattered. And I know I can’t undo that, Nyla. But I want to do better. I want to be there. Not just for you, but for your baby. For my grandchild.”

I looked at his face for a moment.

“Why now, Dad?” I asked. “What changed?”

“That night,” he began. “I thought taking Emma to see Santa was the right thing to do. I thought it’d be a memory she’d cherish forever. But I didn’t stop to think about what you’d remember. That’s on me.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But his track record made it hard.

“Words aren’t enough, Dad,” I said. “If you want to make this right, you need to show me.”

To my surprise, he did. Over the next few months, Dad started showing up.

He came to doctor’s appointments, helped me pick out nursery furniture, and even called to check in on me. It wasn’t perfect, and I wasn’t ready to forgive him completely, but it was a start.

And I’ll never forget the moment he held his grandson. I saw this look of regret on his face that told me he had realized his mistake.

“I wasn’t the father you deserved,” he whispered as his gaze shifted from me to my baby. “But I’m going to be the grandfather this little boy needs.”

It wasn’t a fairy tale ending, but it was enough. Our relationship was still a work in progress, but for the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe people really can change. And for now, that’s all I needed.

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Just a month after my mother lost her battle with cancer, Dad brought his mistress home for Christmas and introduced her as my “NEW MOM.” My heart shattered, but it wasn’t the only thing that left me shaken.

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.

When Caitlyn and Declan Cooper welcomed their son, Eden, Caitlyn decided to step up on the household front and embrace her mommy duties, making Declan the family’s primary breadwinner.

However, a few months after Caitlyn became a full-time mom, Declan noticed how tired she looked. She hardly had any time to herself and couldn’t sleep well since Eden would wake her in the middle of the night.

So on Catilyn’s birthday, Declan surprised her with flight tickets to Japan for a trip with her friends, ensuring that he’d stay behind to care for Eden alone. Caitlyn was reluctant to go, figuring everything would be too much for Declan to manage on his own. But he insisted, and she agreed.

From the minute she arrived in Japan, she called Declan every hour to check on how things were going at home. Her friends mocked her and laughed at her, saying she was just being paranoid about the whole thing.

But only Caitlyn knew how hard it was to subdue the unsettling fear in her heart that something dreadful was about to happen. She didn’t know it would happen so soon…

Three days into their vacation, Caitlyn and her friends were at a beachside party. Her friends Amanda, Sophie, and Veronica were ogling their eyes over the shirtless men, complimenting their hot bodies, but Caitlyn … she was just lost.

“Hey, Caitlyn,” Sophie whispered, interrupting her thoughts. “Where are you even, babe? Just look at that guy. Damn, he’s hot….”

Sophie frowned. “Is this about your baby and husband again? Look, Caitlyn, I understand you’re a new mom and all that, but stop being such a bore here, okay? You know what, it’s because you’re too engrossed in that stupid phone! Give it here!” Sophie tried to snatch Catilyn’s phone from her grasp.

“STOP IT, SOPHIE!” Caitlyn screamed, jerking Sophie’s hand away and drawing Veronica and Amanda’s attention away from the loud music. “I told you I am not interested! To hell with you and your party!”

Caitlyn stormed back to the hotel room, agitated, and she was pacing across the room frantically as she tried to get Declan to answer the phone. Back at the beach, she’d already tried contacting him three times, and now there were a total of 10 attempts with no news from Declan.

Caitlyn’s heart dropped to the floor at that point, and as a last resort, she called their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Louis, to check on Declan and Eden, but the call went unattended. Sophie was bawling like a child at this point, unsure of what to do.

“Mrs. Louis!” cried Caitlyn. “Declan…he’s not returning my calls. Could you please check in on him and Eden for me? Please? I’m in Japan right now, and….”

“Caitlyn! Oh, I’m so glad you are safe, honey. There – There was a fire at your house, and the firemen… they’re still trying to put it out…”

“Fire?” Caitlyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Hello? Mrs. Louis?” The phone call was abruptly disconnected.

Caitlyn tried again, but it was all for naught. She panicked at this point and dashed back to the beach.

“Caitlyn, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Sophie asked, concerned.

“Oh my god! Dec – Declan and Eden…there was….”

Still sobbing, Caitlyn told them what transpired, insisting to go home right then. Her friends accompanied her to the airport, but sadly, when Caitlyn checked for a flight back home, she discovered that all flights to New York were fully booked.

“I guess we’ll have to wait, Caitlyn,” Amanda said gently. “Let’s hope everything turns out okay.”

“Hell no! I am going home right now!”

Caitlyn began to plead desperately with nearly every customer at the check-in counter to sell her their ticket to New York. But she was met with dismay because hardly anyone understood English and those who did refused her.

Finally, an old woman approached her and offered to help her.

“Hello, are you the one wanting to buy a ticket?” she inquired gently.

The woman handed her her ticket with a gentle grin. “There’s no need for that. You can have this. I’m Brenda White, by the way.”

“Oh my God! Thank you so much! I’m Caitlyn – Caitlyn Cooper. Trust me, I’ll forever be grateful to you!”

“You better get going,” the woman said. “Your flight takes off soon.”

“Of course, thank you!”

Caitlyn was over the moon, but her joy was short-lived when she was barred from the flight. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the ground stewardess at the check-in counter said after checking her passport. “The name on your passport does not match the name on your ticket. You cannot board this flight.”

“Listen, you don’t understand! I need to see my baby!” Caitlyn screamed. “Please let me go! It’s urgent. I can’t afford to waste time here!”

Caitlyn was about to burst into tears when another member of the staff approached her. “You may go, ma’am,” she said. “We have received word about your situation, so it’s all good.”

Caitlyn was so panicked that she didn’t even wait to hear how she was suddenly allowed on the flight. She was just anxious to get home – to Declan and Eden.

Several hours later, she arrived home and saw a half-burnt structure standing in place of what used to be her home, with no sign of Eden and Declan.

Caitlyn couldn’t stop crying when she saw Eden and Declan wrapped in bandages and with bruises on their faces. But she was relieved that they were still alive and safe.

When they were discharged about two weeks later, they stayed at Mrs. Louis’ place while their house was being repaired. It was during that time that Caitlyn told Declan about how an elderly lady had helped her.

Declan suggested they thank her, so they started looking for her on Facebook. But when Caitlyn found her, she almost collapsed to the floor. The woman was the airline owner’s mother. She had posted several pictures with her son. No wonder the staff gave her a pass.

Declan and Catilyn messaged her via Facebook, wanting to thank her, and a few days later, they got a reply. Mrs. White arrived for dinner with a beautiful bouquet, having accepted their dinner invitation, and she got acquainted with not only Catilyn’s family but also Mrs. Louis. The families have been close to each other ever since.

• Family is your greatest treasure. When she learned Declan and Eden were in trouble, Caitlyn was ready to spare anything, ever her diamond earrings, just for a ticket back home.
• Always be there for your loved ones. Caitlyn always prioritized her family, and she was there for them when they needed her the most.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who discovers a chest while digging in her backyard and opens it only 3 years later.

This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

Leslie rubbed her temple with one hand as she headed to her plane. She had a throbbing headache to remind her of the night she had spent partying at one of the hottest clubs in Atlanta.

Amy looked at Leslie and rolled her eyes. “Of course I do, but you should know better than to party the night before a cross-country flight.”

“What else am I supposed to do, visit museums?” Leslie sighed.

Amy gave Leslie a friendly nudge, and the women boarded the plane together.

“One day, everything will work out for you, Leslie,” Amy said. “Just have faith.”

Leslie and Amy immediately got to work preparing for the passengers to board, then doing the safety demonstration and ensuring all the passengers settled in. Finally, Leslie crept to the galley and drank her headache pills.

Leslie paused, listening hard. A moment later, she decided she must’ve imagined it. Maybe Amy was right about her partying too much.

When Leslie passed the bathroom door, she heard a high-pitched mewling sound again. There was no way there was a cat on the plane, so it had to be a child crying.

Amy knocked on the bathroom door. When nobody replied, she opened the door and peeped inside. A second later, she screamed.

A moment later, Leslie realized the shuddering bundle that frightened her was a young boy. He’d been crying and looked up at her with tearful eyes.

“What are you doing in here?”

The boy hugged his knees and started crying again. Now that she was over her shock, Leslie felt sorry for the boy. She crouched down in front of him.

“I’m sorry I shouted,” Leslie said. “You gave me a fright. I’m Leslie, what’s your name?”

The boy sniffed. “My name’s Ben.”

Leslie helped the boy up. She let him sit in one of the crew jump seats while she searched the passenger list for his name. It was probably the boy’s first time on a plane, and he didn’t seem to enjoy it.

It had been far too long since Leslie last had to comfort a child. The thought filled her with longing for her home, but now was not the time to think of that. She sat beside Ben and put her hand on his arm.

“Ben, sweetie, are you lost? I can help you if you tell me where to find your family.”

Ben let out a sob. He was hugging a paper bag to his chest, Leslie noticed. It set her nerves on edge because of all the horror stories she’d heard about substances brought onto flights.

“What’s in the bag, Ben?” Leslie asked.

“It’s Granny’s medicine,” the boy replied. “She’s going to die without this medicine, and it will be all my fault!”

His mom hadn’t appreciated the explosive side effects of Ben’s quest to discover a cure for all diseases. He’d dearly hoped to make his mother proud and earn a hug from her, but instead, she’d made him sit in the corner.

“I just want her to look at me with the same love and pride she gives my older brothers when they do well.”

Ben sobbed. “That’s why I stole the bag of Granny’s medicine.”

When Ben’s grandmother fell ill, the family decided to visit her in Seattle and bring her medicine. Ben had gotten separated from his family at the airport. He’d eventually spotted his mother again and followed her onto the plane.

“But she wasn’t my mom,” Ben wailed. “And now I’m on the wrong plane. I wanted to be the hero who gave Granny her medicine, but now I’m the baddie. She’s going to die because of me.”

She stared at the boy she was now forced to look after and share her hotel room with. This wasn’t fair. She’d made a list of clubs to check out in L. A, but now she had to babysit instead.

Several times, she’d texted Amy and her other colleague, Brandon, but neither of them was willing to mind Ben for her. She’d even considered searching for a local babysitter but realized she couldn’t afford it. She had to save as much as possible to send home.

The pair were silently eating a pizza Leslie ordered for dinner when her phone rang. She answered it, and her stomach dropped when she heard what the caller said.

“My baby is sick?” Leslie asked. “What happened, mom? Joe was doing well the last time we spoke. Have you taken him to a doctor?”

“And she referred us to a specialist. We have an appointment for later this week. They mentioned a genetic disease and they might need you to come in for tests too since you’re his mom.”

“Whatever it takes, so long as my boy gets better,” Leslie replied.

When she ended the call, Leslie curled into a ball and wept. She wished with all her heart she could wrap her son in her arms, smell his soft, curly hair, and tell him everything would be okay.

Unfortunately, Joe was far beyond her reach. Her flight schedule hadn’t taken her home in over a month. As much as she tried to forget her longing for her son by partying, nothing could stop her heart from aching.

“Miss Leslie?” Ben approached and put his hand on her arm. “I think you should have these for your Joe.”

“If I can’t save my granny, at least I can help you,” Ben said. “Take them for Joe so he can be healthy again.”

“I have a better idea.” Leslie started typing on her phone. “I’m going to get you to your granny in Seattle, Ben. Afterward, I’m going home to see my son.”

Leslie booked a plane ticket for Ben at her own expense. She then organized leave and arranged to accompany Ben on his flight while on her way home.

“I’m scared,” Ben said as he and Leslie boarded their flight. “What if Granny is already dead because of my mistake? Mom will never love me then.”

“Your mom has always loved you, Ben, and she always will. That’s what parents do. I’m sure she’s been very worried and will be happy to see you safe.”

Ben didn’t seem to believe Leslie, even when his entire family rushed forward to hug him when they arrived in Seattle. Leslie looked on as Ben’s mom smothered him with kisses and swore never to ignore him again.

Unfortunately, Leslie’s reunion with her family was less cheerful. She was shocked to see how pale and thin Joe had become since she last saw him. He felt so fragile in her arms.

Leslie stayed up late that night talking to her mom and going over the various tests the doctors had run on Joe. She felt overwhelmed, helpless, and incredibly guilty.

When she finally retired for the evening, Leslie crept into Joe’s room and curled up next to him. She buried her face in his soft, coconut-scented hair and promised him, herself, and God to do whatever it took to see her son healthy.

Leslie put in for extra days on her leave, but the airline wasn’t very understanding. They refused to pay her for the time off. After another week of caring for Joe and paying for doctor’s visits, money was getting tight. Leslie’s mom was retired and had always relied on Leslie to pay for Joe’s needs while she cared for the child. Now, the women needed to figure out how to proceed.

“Maybe I can get a job here,” Leslie said. “Maybe something that pays better.”

“It’s worth looking at any rate,” Leslie’s mom shrugged. “If it comes to it, I can sell the house.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Ben?” She noted then that the family she recognized from the airport was with him. “What’s going on?”

“I have something for you and Joe.” Ben presented Leslie with an envelope.

Leslie opened the envelope. Inside was a check. When Leslie saw the amount on it, her jaw dropped.

“What is this? I can’t accept it,” she stammered.

“We want you to have it.” Ben’s mother stepped forward. “We started a crowdfunding campaign for my mother, but she…” the woman put a hand to her mouth. “She passed away a few days ago.”

“We decided together that we should give you the money, for Joe,” Ben continued.

“We announced what we planned to do on the crowdfunding campaign too,” Ben’s dad added, “so everything is above board.”

Leslie pressed the check to her chest as tears welled up in her eyes. “Thank you all so much,” she sobbed. “This is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. I only hope it’s enough.”

Ben lunged forward and hugged Leslie’s legs. “It will be enough, I’m sure of it! And when Joe is better one day, I’m going to come back here to play with him.”

Leslie smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “You’ll always be welcome to visit here, Ben.”

As Leslie watched him playing with the neighbor’s dog on the front lawn, it was hard to imagine a time when he hadn’t been strong and full of laughter.

“And it’s all thanks to Ben,” she muttered.

What can we learn from this story?

• All children need attention. Ben was desperate to earn his mother’s affection, so he acted foolishly. If she’d realized her son felt neglected, she could’ve acted sooner to ensure he always felt loved.
• You can only avoid emotional pain for so long. Instead of distracting herself from the pain of missing her family with partying and destructive habits, Leslie could’ve found a healthier coping mechanism.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who hears her son’s voice minutes after his life support is turned off.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

Single mom Suzana saved all year to give her sons a magical Christmas. But when their evil landlord swiped the heart of their holiday — their beloved Christmas tree — she turned heartbreak into an unforgettable lesson in karma and a mother’s unstoppable love.

“Mom! Mom! Look what I made in art class!” 8-year-old Ethan burst through the door, his backpack swinging wildly, waving a paper snowflake. Inside its center, he’d carefully glued a photo of the three of us from last summer’s picnic.

“That’s gorgeous, honey!” I knelt to examine his handiwork. “Want to hang it on the special branch?”

“Can I put it next to my rocket ship?” 6-year-old Jake bounced over, pointing to his own masterpiece — a toilet paper roll painted silver with cardboard fins.

“How about right between your rocket and my angel?” I suggested, reaching for the step ladder.

“Best spot ever!” Ethan carefully positioned his snowflake. “This tree is like a giant memory book, isn’t it, Mom?”

“Sure is, baby. Every ornament tells our story.”

“And it’s the prettiest tree on the whole street!” Jake declared, dancing around its base. “Even prettier than the one at the mall!”

“Of course we can, honey. Let’s make it the brightest tree in town.”

But that joy lasted exactly 21 hours and 16 minutes. At 5:07 p.m. on Christmas Eve, a sharp knock interrupted “Jingle Bell Rock.”

There stood Mr. Bryant, our landlord, designer coffee in one hand, latest-model phone in the other. His cashmere scarf probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.

“Suzana!” He barely glanced up from his screen. “About the rent.”

“Just making sure you’re… AWARE!” His eyes then drifted to our tree, and something cold slithered across his face. “What exactly is THAT THING doing in the yard?”

“Our Christmas tree? We put it up last —”

“It needs to go.” He took a long sip of his coffee, grimacing like he’d tasted something bitter. “Fire hazard.”

“Fire hazard? It’s outside, Mr. Bryant. We’ve checked all the lights, and —”

“I’m sending a truck in an hour.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and happy holidays. Try to keep the noise down with all the… festivities.”

And then, the truck arrived.

“But Mom, you promised until New Year’s!” Ethan’s voice cracked as the truck workers started disconnecting the lights from the tree. “Tell them to stop!”

Jake wrapped himself around my leg, tears streaming down his flour-dusted cheeks. “Why is the mean man taking our Christmas tree? Mommy, please tell him to stop. Were we bad? I… I promise to behave. Please tell him to stop.”

I pulled them both close, fighting back my tears. “No, baby, you weren’t bad at all. Sometimes, grown-ups make decisions that don’t make sense.”

“Our tree was the prettiest tree on the block,” Jake cried. “It’s not Christmas without a tree.”

We stood there helpless, watching as the men loaded our beautiful tree onto the truck, ornaments and all. My boys’ quiet sobs felt like tiny daggers in my heart. The truck drove away, taking our Christmas joy with it.

That night, after tucking two heartbroken boys into bed, I sat in our empty living room, staring at the rectangular patch of dead grass outside where our tree had stood. The silence felt heavy, broken only by muffled sniffles from the boys’ room.

“Me too,” Jake added softly. “Santa won’t even know where to find us without our tree. It’s all Mr. Bryant’s fault. He’s a bad man. I wish the cookie monster takes him.”

The next morning, I dropped the boys at their grandma’s for our traditional Christmas breakfast. Taking the long way home to clear my head, I nearly drove off the road when I passed Mr. Bryant’s house at the end of the street.

For a moment, I FROZE at the sight before me.

There it was. Our tree. Our beloved Christmas tree. On Mr. Bryant’s yard. With every handmade ornament, every careful decoration, even the crooked star Ethan had insisted on placing himself.

My hands shook as I called Jessie, my best friend since we shared crayons in third grade.

“He didn’t just steal a tree,” I choked out. “He stole my kids’ Christmas! Ethan’s snowflake, Jake’s rocket ship… they’re all there, Jess. He’s displaying my children’s memories like they’re his own!”

“That entitled piece of —” Jessie hissed. “Girl, I haven’t heard you this upset since Jonathan stole your lunch money in fifth grade.”

“At least Jonathan only took my money. This is different. Mr. Bryant… he STOLE our Christmas.”

“And what did we do to Jonathan?”

“We filled his locker with shaving cream and glitter.” I smiled at the memory. “It took him weeks to get it all out of his jacket.”

“Exactly. So what’s the plan? Because you do have a plan. I hear it in your voice.”

“Maybe. How do you feel about a little midnight adventure?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting all year to wear my black yoga pants for crime. What time should I come over?”

“These gloves make me feel like a cat burglar,” Jessie whispered, carefully removing each ornament. “Though I doubt most burglars use unicorn print.”

“More like Santa’s revenge squad!” I gathered my boys’ handmade decorations in a bag, my heart aching as I recognized each one. “Look, he even kept the candy cane Jake made from pipe cleaners.”

“What a jerk.” Jessie frowned. “Hey, what’s that noise?”

We froze as a car passed, then burst into nervous giggles when it continued down the street.

“Because then we’d be thieves, just like him. We’re going to do something much better.”

We worked methodically, replacing Mr. Bryant’s gaudy additions with something special. Foot-wide letters in silver duct tape wound around the tree, flaunting the message: “PROPERTY OF SUZANA, ETHAN & JAKE!”

“Wait!” Jessie pulled out a can of glitter spray. “Let’s make it festive. Red or silver?”

“Both. It is Christmas, after all.”

The string of curses that followed would have made a sailor blush.

“Everything okay, Mr. Bryant?” Mrs. Adams, his next-door neighbor, called out while walking her poodle. She’d lived there for 30 years and took no nonsense from anyone, especially not Mr. Bryant.

“Someone vandalized my tree!” He gestured wildly at the glittering message. “This is destruction of private property!”

Mrs. Adams adjusted her glasses, squinting at the tree. “Is that little Jake’s rocket ship ornament? And Ethan’s paper snowflake?”

“Then why does it say ‘Property of Suzana, Ethan & Jake’ in giant sparkling letters? Wait a minute. Did you steal their tree?”

“I… I… this is outrageous! It was a fire hazard. I just moved it here.”

“What’s outrageous is stealing a single mother’s Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.” Mrs. Adams’s voice could have frozen fire. “What would your mother, bless her soul, think, Mr. Bryant?”

“Here’s your tree,” he muttered, refusing to meet my eyes. Glitter dusted his expensive shoes.

“Thank you, Mr. Bryant. The boys will be so happy.”

He turned to leave but stopped. “The rent’s still due on the first.”

“Of course. And Mr. Bryant? You might want to hose down your lawn. I hear glitter can last through spring.”

“For inside the house,” she explained, hugging me tight. “No child should cry on Christmas. And Mr. Bryant should know better. His own mother was a single mom, back in the day.”

The neighbors helped us set up both trees, sharing stories and cookies while Ethan and Jake bounced around, their earlier sadness forgotten as they hung new ornaments alongside their rescued treasures.

“Mom!” Jake called out, carefully placing his rocket ship on a branch. “Look! Now we have two wonderful trees!”

And just like that, our home was filled with love, laughter, and holiday cheer. As for Mr. Bryant? He hasn’t bothered us since. Karma really is the gift that keeps on giving.

Here’s another story: Margaret’s Thanksgiving was shattered when her 5-year-old daughter threw the turkey onto the floor and screamed: “I SAVED YOU ALL!” The confession that followed left everyone rattled.

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.

After my husband of twenty years left me, I struggled to find love again at forty-one. Desperate, I joined a dating site and met a charming man named Juan. I took a leap of faith and traveled to Mexico to surprise him, but it turned out to be the worst decision.

I couldn’t make new friends, and finding love in your forties is hard. So, I shut myself off and rarely left the house.

In desperation, I registered on a dating site and started chatting with a handsome man from Mexico named Juan. He was so confident and gallant I couldn’t believe it was real. Very soon, our online flirtation was turning into something more.

Things developed quickly, and he began inviting me to visit him in Mexico. At first, I hesitated. What if he wasn’t who he seemed to be? What if I was just setting myself up for more heartbreak?

But the thought of spending my days in the lonely routine I had fallen into pushed me to take a chance. I finally decided to surprise him by arriving unannounced.

I gathered my things for a few weeks’ trip, bought plane tickets, and was ready to go. I was really nervous. I wasn’t sure he would be the same as he was online, but I needed this. It felt like my last chance to be happy.

As I boarded the plane, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. The flight seemed to take forever, and I could only think about Juan.

Would he be as charming in person? Would he be happy to see me? I tried to calm my racing thoughts, reminding myself that this was a step toward a new beginning.

It was difficult for me to reach Juan because it turned out he lived in a small town far from the airport. The journey was long and tiring. After landing, I had to find a taxi to take me to his town.

“Where!? Where!?” The taxi driver kept screaming at me because he couldn’t understand what I was saying. I could feel my frustration rising, so I quickly pulled out my phone and showed him the address.

“Good, good, let’s go!” he answered, finally understanding.

Traveling had always been a challenge for me. I always seemed to find the worst ways to communicate with people, and my luck was notoriously bad. But this time, I felt like everything was going to turn out well, which gave me the courage to keep going.

The drive felt endless, winding through narrow, unfamiliar roads. I watched the scenery change from the bustling city to quieter, rural landscapes.

The further we drove, the more anxious I became. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was making a huge mistake. But I pushed those thoughts aside, reminding myself that I was here to take a chance on happiness.

“Juan! Surprise!” I called out, running towards him. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

He looked very surprised, and for a moment, I thought he was upset to see me. But then he suddenly smiled, and my heart calmed down.

“I’m sorry, I thought you would be happy to see me, Juan. You look so much better in person!” I said, trying to keep the mood light.

“Yeah! You too… Lucy…” he said, hesitating slightly.

“Lily…” I corrected him, feeling a pang of disappointment. He didn’t even remember my name. Maybe that was the first red flag I should have noticed.

“Lily! Yeah, that’s what I meant. I’m sorry, sometimes American names are a bit confusing to me.”

Maybe he was right, I thought. I shouldn’t be so negative. He was so handsome, and his accent made me want to listen to him more and more.

As the evening went on, we opened a bottle of wine. I felt my nerves melting away with each sip. Juan was charming and attentive, and I enjoyed his company more than I had expected.

“So, what made you decide to come all the way here?” Juan asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“I just needed a change,” I admitted. “After my husband left, I felt so lost. Talking to you made me feel hopeful again.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said, his smile warm and reassuring. “It’s nice to meet you in person finally.”

We continued talking late into the night, the wine loosening our tongues and deepening our connection. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with me, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

“I think I need to get some sleep,” I said, stifling a yawn.

“Of course, you must be tired from your trip,” Juan said, guiding me to a spare room. “Sleep well, Lily.”

“Goodnight, Juan,” I said, smiling as I drifted off, feeling content and hopeful for the first time in a long while.

But the next morning would bring a harsh reality I wasn’t prepared for. I woke up on the street, disoriented and confused. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft light over the unfamiliar surroundings.

Panic set in as I looked around. People were starting their day, but no one seemed to notice me. I tried to speak to passersby, but my voice came out shaky and desperate.

“Please help! Anybody!? Call the police!” I shouted, hoping someone would understand.

But nobody did. They all glanced at me briefly before hurrying on their way, looking at me like I was homeless or worse.

The language barrier was like a wall between me and any potential help. I felt a wave of hopelessness wash over me, and tears began to well up in my eyes.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, a tall man approached me. He had a kind face and wore an apron, suggesting he worked at a nearby restaurant. He spoke to me in Spanish, and his words were rapid and hard to follow. I shook my head, trying to convey that I didn’t understand.

He seemed to realize the problem and switched to broken English. “You… need help?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Yes, please,” I replied, my voice trembling. “I don’t have my phone or money. I don’t know what to do.”

He nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Come… with me,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. “I… Miguel.”

“Lily,” I said, trying to manage a weak smile. I followed Miguel to a small, cozy restaurant just down the street. The aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee filled the air, momentarily distracting me from my fear.

Miguel led me to a back room, where he handed me some clothes – a simple dress and a pair of shoes. “You… change,” he said, pointing to a small restroom.

I nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Miguel.”

I changed into clean clothes inside the restroom, feeling a little more human. I splashed some water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Despite the situation, I felt a flicker of hope. Miguel’s kindness was like a lifeline.

When I came out, Miguel had prepared a plate of food for me. Eggs, toast, and a cup of hot coffee. He pointed to the chair, indicating I should sit and eat. “Eat… you need strength,” he said.

I sat down and started to eat, the food filling the emptiness in my stomach. “Thank you,” I said again, my eyes welling up with gratitude.

Miguel smiled and nodded. “You… use phone after.”

The realization was painful, but Miguel’s unexpected kindness reminded me that there were still good people in the world.

When I looked out into the hall to see how Miguel worked, I was stunned to see Juan in the distance. He was with a new woman, laughing and chatting as if nothing had happened.

My heart pounded in my chest, and anger surged through me. How could he just move on so easily after what he had done to me?

Miguel looked confused, not fully understanding my English. I took a deep breath and tried again, speaking slowly and gesturing towards Juan.

“He stole my money and phone.”

Miguel’s face showed he still didn’t quite understand, but he nodded and looked concerned. I realized I needed to be clearer.

I grabbed a napkin and quickly drew a crude picture of a phone and a dollar sign, then crossed them out. “Juan took these from me,” I said, pointing to the drawing, then to Juan.

I grabbed a napkin and quickly drew a crude picture of a phone and a dollar sign, then crossed them out. “Juan took these from me,” I said, pointing to the drawing, then to Juan.

Miguel’s eyes widened in realization. He looked at Juan, then back at me. “Police?” he asked, mimicking holding a phone.

“Yes, but wait,” I said, an idea forming in my mind. “Can I borrow a waitress’s uniform?”

Miguel looked puzzled but nodded. He quickly fetched a uniform and handed it to me. I rushed to the restroom to change, my heart racing with both fear and determination.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, using the most professional tone I could muster. “You dropped this earlier.” I handed Juan a napkin, hoping he would be distracted enough not to recognize me right away.

Juan looked up, mildly surprised. As he took the napkin, I quickly reached for his phone lying on the table. I grabbed it and hurried back to Miguel, my heart pounding in my chest.

Miguel looked confused as I thrust the phone into his hands. “Look at the messages,” I said, opening the chat between Juan and me.

Miguel scrolled through the messages, his eyes widening in shock. He looked at me, then back at Juan, who was still laughing with the woman.

Miguel’s expression hardened with understanding and anger. He nodded and pulled out his phone to call the police.

Minutes later, the police arrived. They spoke with Miguel, who gestured towards Juan. The officers approached Juan’s table, and I watched as they questioned him. Juan’s face went from confident to confused to panicked in a matter of seconds. The police escorted him out of the restaurant, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

Miguel turned to me with a look of concern and kindness. “You… okay?” he asked.

I nodded, tears of relief and gratitude filling my eyes. “Thank you, Miguel. You believed me and helped me. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Miguel smiled gently. “Good people help each other. You find a new start now.”

I realized that in this crazy journey, I had found someone who truly cared. Miguel’s kindness and support gave me the strength to face a difficult situation and become stronger. As I stood there, I felt a sense of hope for the future. I wasn’t alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

“No, this can’t be happening!” My husband’s anticipation for our wedding night turned to horror when I took off my wedding dress. I’d been keeping the secret of what lay beneath my dress all day, but it was finally time to expose a shocking revelation.

That perfect bubble we were living in was about to burst. But not yet, not until I was ready to pop it.

The reception went on like a dream — champagne glasses clinking, laughter echoing across the perfectly manicured lawns, and Greg’s parents playing the role of doting in-laws. After all, their perfect little boy deserved the perfect little day, didn’t he?

And me? I played my part. I smiled at the right moments and laughed when someone told us a joke. I even danced with Greg like everything was just fine.

Greg thought he knew me. He thought he had me all figured out, but he was wrong.

As the night wore on, Greg’s anticipation for our wedding night became almost unbearable. He couldn’t hide it, not that he was trying to.

His touches lingered too long, and his smile was too wide. I felt like a performer on stage, playing a part that had been written for me long before I even agreed to put on the dress. But I had my own script.

His hand tightened around mine as he led me to the master suite, the same one his parents had graciously let us use for our first night together as husband and wife. How poetic.

He was practically giddy as he closed the door behind us.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the excitement in the air becoming almost tangible. I could see it in his eyes as he came toward me, his hands already reaching for the zipper of my wedding dress.

I smiled, a small, secret smile that he couldn’t see. “Me too.”

He carefully unzipped my dress. I stood perfectly still, my heart racing. He was so eager, so confident in what was coming next. He didn’t have a clue.

When the dress finally fell to the floor, I turned around slowly. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw what was underneath. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering, trying to keep his balance.

“No…” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!”

The tattoo of Greg’s ex, Sarah, stretched across my torso, down to my waist. The words he’d said to her the night before our wedding were perfectly inscribed beneath her face: “One last taste of freedom before I’m bound to the same body forever.”

It was temporary, sure. But Greg didn’t know that. It was authentic enough to make his knees buckle beneath him.

“How did you know?” He sobbed, his gaze fixed on the tattoo.

“I didn’t mean it,” he sobbed, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

That’s when we heard the footsteps. Marianne and James burst through the door, their faces full of concern.

“What’s going on?” Marianne’s voice trembled as her eyes darted between her sobbing son and me. Then, her gaze fell on the tattoo. Her face went white.

“It’s simple,” I replied. “Greg cheated on me.”

Marianne’s gasp filled the room, sharp and full of disbelief. James, Greg’s father, stood frozen in the doorway. He was always the stoic one, the quiet type who let Marianne handle the dramatics. But this? This was something even he couldn’t swallow.

For a moment, silence stretched between us. The weight of the truth hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Greg was still on the floor, hands gripping his hair as if that would somehow keep him from falling apart completely.

Marianne’s gaze flicked back to Greg, her lips quivering. “Greg? Is this true?”

She took a shaky step toward him, her voice fragile, like she was begging him to tell her that what she was seeing wasn’t real, that her son couldn’t have done something so unforgivable.

Greg didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His whole body was trembling, his shoulders shaking as sobs wracked his chest.

“Tell me!” Marianne’s voice cracked, breaking under the pressure of her disbelief. “Tell me it’s not true!”

James stepped forward. His face was like stone, but I could see the fury simmering beneath the surface. He towered over Greg, his hands balled into fists, his whole body radiating a barely contained rage.

“Gregory,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Is this true?”

“He slept with her the night before our wedding,” I said, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “He told her he needed ‘one last taste of freedom before he was bound to the same body forever.'”

Marianne let out a strangled sob, collapsing onto the edge of the bed as her world came crashing down around her.

James’s face darkened. His nostrils flared as he glared down at his son. Disgust and disappointment warring in his expression.

Greg’s head snapped up, his eyes wild with panic. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I-I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” I echoed, my voice rising with incredulity.

“You call sleeping with your ex the night before our wedding a mistake?” I stepped closer to him, the rage I’d been holding back finally bubbling to the surface. “No, you made a choice, Greg. A deliberate, calculated choice to betray me. And now you’re paying for it.”

Greg turned his tear-streaked face toward me, his eyes wide with desperation. “Please, Lilith… please, I love you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’ll do anything! Just please, don’t leave me.”

“Love me? You love me?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Greg, you don’t know the first thing about love. If you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did. You wouldn’t have betrayed me like that.”

He reached for me, his hands trembling, his eyes pleading. “Please… I’m begging you.”

I stepped back, letting him fall short, my eyes hard and unfeeling. “I’m done, Greg. This is over. You destroyed us the moment you decided to crawl back to Sarah.”

His father, James, stepped forward then, his voice a low growl.

Greg hesitated for a moment, then slowly pushed himself to his feet, his knees still wobbling beneath him. He looked so pathetic, standing there in his wrinkled wedding suit, his face streaked with tears, his whole world crumbling around him.

I turned to Marianne and James, who were still trying to process the fallout. Marianne’s face was red and swollen from crying, while James’s expression was a storm of disappointment and fury.

“Lilith, please,” Greg begged one last time, his voice breaking. “Please don’t go.”

But I was already done. I turned away from him, from the mess of our ruined wedding night, and reached for my robe. I slipped it over my shoulders, covering the tattoo, and made my way toward the door.

“Lilith,” Greg called after me, his voice full of desperation. “I’ll change! I’ll make it right!”

But I didn’t even bother to respond. There was nothing left to say.

As I stepped out of the room, I heard James’s voice, low and furious, booming through the silence. “This is what you’ve done, Greg. You’ve ruined everything.”

Here’s another story: When Kate’s idea to prank her husband during a late-night drive instead causes him to panic, the joke takes a dark turn. As minutes tick by and Greg goes missing, Kate’s harmless prank spirals into a tense search, leaving her wondering if she’s gone too far. Click here to keep reading.

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.

I thought lending my car to my daughter-in-law would be a chance to mend our strained relationship. Instead, she returned it battered and covered in lies, refusing to pay for the damages. What I did next left her feeling helpless.

“Jennifer, always look after Toby,” he said as he held my hand. “I know he’s 30 and he can look after himself, but that boy is a bit too sensitive, and I know he’ll need his mother to support him.”

He was right. Toby did need me in the days following Nathan’s death. I remember how we would sit together, reminiscing about how Nathan used to take us to his favorite restaurant and make us all laugh.

However, things changed when Toby found someone to replace his aging mother. About a year after Nathan’s death, Toby introduced me to a beautiful 30-year-old woman named Layla, whom he met at work.

She wore a lovely dress, her hair neatly tied back, perfectly dressed to meet her boyfriend’s mother. I had to admit that she knew how to make a strong first impression.

“Hi, Jennifer,” she hugged me the first time we met. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I smiled, totally mesmerized by my son’s choice. “You look wonderful, Layla!”

Toby and Layla tied the knot just six months after our first meeting. I was so happy for my son as he started a new chapter of his life, and my heart was full of good wishes for him. I remember how I couldn’t stop weeping when my boy said his vows like a grown-up man.

Not long after the wedding, Toby and Layla invited me over to their place for lunch. I thought it would be a nice bonding session with my daughter-in-law since it was just the three of us, but it was anything but that.

“Why are you so late, Jennifer?” she asked as soon as I stepped inside the house. I couldn’t see Toby anywhere near the entrance. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long!”

“I… I got late because of the traffic,” I stammered, taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.

“I don’t like hosting people who can’t value my time,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry for that, Layla,” I apologized. “But it was just 10 minutes.”

“I don’t care if it was 10 minutes or 10 hours,” she shot me an angry look. “You need to be on time when you come to my place, underst—”

“I’m fine, Toby,” I said, hugging him, still reeling from Layla’s behavior. “How are you, my love? Looks like you haven’t been eating well.”

“Nah, I’m good, Mom,” he smiled. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Your wife was say—”

“Nothing, babe,” Layla cut me off. “I was just telling her how beautiful she looks today.”

At that point, I was stunned by Layla’s behavior. Why was she being so sweet to me in front of Toby? And why didn’t she let me tell him what she had said earlier?

I spent the rest of the afternoon at their house, observing how Layla effortlessly switched on her sweet personality whenever Toby was around. But when he wasn’t looking, she’d throw mean remarks to make me feel unwelcome.

That day marked the beginning of my strained relationship with my daughter-in-law.

Then, one day, I noticed how Toby began taking her side whenever Layla and I argued in front of him.

“See, I’ve been telling your mother to order the small bowl, but she never listens to me,” Layla chuckled. “I don’t know why she never trusts me.”

She played the victim in front of him, and my poor boy always fell for it. I don’t blame him; he had seen his father always side with me. But I wasn’t like Layla. I wasn’t pretending to be a good daughter-in-law in front of my husband.

“Hi, Jen!” she chirped through the phone.

Jen? I thought. That’s weird.

“Hi, Layla,” I played along, trying to sound as sweet as possible. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she said. “I was wondering if I could borrow your car tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?”

“My car?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Actually, I was supposed to visit my friend today. She lives a few hours away, but I couldn’t go because my car broke down. The mechanic says it’ll take a few days before he can fix it.”

“I was so upset, but then Toby suggested I ask if you could lend me your car for a day,” she continued. “I’ll be back in a week.”

A week? I thought. That’s a lot.

But I felt bad for her. She sounded desperate, and she mentioned Toby had suggested it, so I didn’t want to let her down. I also saw it as a chance to mend our relationship.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” I said. “You can come over today if you want.”

And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

A week later, Layla and Toby returned my car, but I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It was covered in scratches, dents, and dust. And the inside? It smelled like rotten onions!

“What have you done to my car?” I spat out. “What happened?”

“Excuse me?” she said, squinting her eyes as if I’d said something outrageous. “What did I do to your car? It was like this when I picked it up the other day.”

“You think I’m lying?” she snapped, turning to Toby. “Babe, look at her! She’s accusing me of lying! How dare she?”

“Mom, Layla’s right,” Toby said. “She told me your car was like this when she picked it up the other day. She’s not lying.”

“Toby? Are you serious?” I stared at him in shock, realizing there was no point in arguing with them.

I had no proof, and neither did she. But Toby sided with her because he was so blindly in love with her.

I realized that arguing might even push my son away, so I decided to teach Layla a lesson instead. I spent the night researching online and stumbled across an incredible idea. A quick call to the nearby pet shop, and my plan was in motion.

The next night, I drove over to their place armed with animal attractant sprays. I carefully sprayed them all over their backyard, driveway, and front porch, making sure to stay out of sight.

With the lights off, I knew they were asleep. I quickly executed my plan and quietly drove away, feeling a mix of nerves and satisfaction.

“Mom, I need help!” he cried over the phone.

“What happened, honey?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Are you okay?”

“We just woke up, and it’s awful here! The yard stinks, and wild animals have turned our place into a toilet! The whole house smells horrible, and we don’t know what to do!”

I secretly smirked, listening to him rant about the mess. The irony was delicious.

“Oh, my!” I pretended to be surprised. “That sounds horrible. I guess that’s what happens when you ruin someone else’s property.”

Since that day, Layla hasn’t dared to mess with me. We met at a dinner once, and she didn’t try to be rude or complain about me wasting her time. Meanwhile, Toby started calling me regularly, checking in to see how I was doing.

I guess my dear husband Nathan was right after all. My son did need me to pull him out of the trance Layla had drawn him into. He needed me to stand up for myself and set a boundary his wife wouldn’t dare cross again.

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: I thought I was a good mother-in-law and grandmother by availing myself to my son and daughter-in-law as they needed. But I soon realized that I was getting the raw end of the deal when my DIL disrespected me. I had to take matters into my own hands to remedy the situation once and for all!

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.

After weeks of planning the perfect Christmas Eve, my husband left the kids and me at home to attend his staff-only office party instead. But when another wife’s call revealed the truth about couples being invited, I decided it was time for a surprise visit.

I stepped back to survey my work, nearly tripping over the train set Michael had insisted on setting up last weekend. That had been a good day — one of his rare moments of full presence with the family.

“Mommy, mommy! Look at my twirl!” Daisy spun around in her sparkly princess dress, her blonde curls bouncing with each turn.

She was pure magic, my little girl. The sequins on her dress caught the Christmas lights, creating tiny dancing rainbows on the walls.

“Beautiful, sweetheart! You look just like Cinderella!” I reached out to steady her as she wobbled, dizzy from spinning. “Maybe even prettier.”

“Does Cinderella have a sword?” she asked, eyeing her brother’s plastic cutlass with obvious envy.

“Arrrr!” Max charged through the living room, his plastic sword raised high, the eye patch I’d carefully painted on his face slightly smudged from his afternoon nap. “I’m gonna get all the presents from Santa’s ship!”

“When’s Daddy coming?” Max’s lower lip trembled slightly. He’d been asking every twenty minutes since breakfast.

“Soon, baby. Very soon.” I checked my watch again, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. Michael had been coming home later and later these past few months, always with a different excuse.

But tonight would be different. It had to be: it was Christmas Eve.

Just then, the front door opened, bringing in a gust of cold air, and my husband Michael. He looked handsome in his work clothes but distracted. His eyes darted around the room, taking in everything but seeing nothing.

“Hey, munchkins!” He gave them each a quick hug, then pecked my cheek as he passed.

His lips were cold against my skin, the gesture mechanical. “Hey honey, everything looks great! I need a white shirt and my black suit pressed. Can you iron it while I hop in the shower?”

I blinked, confused. The turkey timer chimed in the background, a countdown to something I couldn’t yet see. “Your suit? I guess the kids aren’t the only ones getting dressed up for Christmas Eve!”

He chuckled absentmindedly, already heading upstairs. The bathroom door clicked shut, and soon I heard the shower running, drowning out Daisy’s impromptu rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

Like the good wife I was, I pulled out the ironing board and pressed his clothes to perfection, humming “Silent Night” under my breath.

The turkey timer dinged again, and I rushed to baste it one last time, my sock-clad feet sliding slightly on the hardwood floors. Everything was going to be perfect.

“Mommy, can we open just one present?” Max tugged at my sleeve, leaving a sticky candy cane handprint on my carefully chosen festive sweater.

Michael emerged from upstairs looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine cover, every hair in place, smelling of that expensive cologne his mother always gave him. He adjusted his cufflinks, the platinum ones I’d given him last Christmas, and grabbed his keys from the crystal bowl by the door.

“I’m heading to the office Christmas party. It’s just for staff, so I’ll be back later.”

The words hit me like a slap. The room suddenly felt too warm, too bright, too everything. “What? But… it’s Christmas Eve. The turkey… the kids…”

“But Daddy, you promised to read ‘The Night Before Christmas’!” Daisy’s voice wavered, her princess crown slightly askew.

“Tomorrow, princess. Daddy has to work.” And then he was gone, the door clicking shut with devastating finality.

Max’s lower lip trembled. “Is Daddy mad at us?”

“No, baby.” I pulled him close, breathing in his sweet child smell, trying to ground myself. “Daddy just has to…”

My phone buzzed, Melissa’s name lighting up the screen.

I answered automatically, my mind still reeling.

“Hey, Lena! What are you wearing tonight? I can’t decide between my red dress or the green one.”

My stomach lurched. The room spun slightly as pieces started clicking into place. “Wearing… tonight?”

“For the office party! Though I guess you already know what you’re wearing, right? You’re always so put together. I was thinking of wearing those heels you liked at the last company picnic…”

There was an awkward pause. “Oh God, Lena… I thought… I mean, everyone’s bringing their spouses… Oh no, did Michael not…?”

I hung up. The Christmas lights blurred as tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously. Not tonight. Not in front of my babies.

“Mommy?” Daisy tugged at my sleeve, her princess dress rustling. “Why are you mad? Your face is all red like when Max draws on the walls.”

I forced a smile, though it felt like my face might crack. “I’m not mad, sweetie. In fact, I’ve just decided we’re going on an adventure!”

“Exactly like pirates.” I marched upstairs to our bedroom, yanking open the safe with trembling hands.

The metal was cool against my skin as I punched in the code — our anniversary date, of all things. Out came our emergency cash, Michael’s precious watches, and all the damn cufflinks I’d ever bought him.

Into my purse they went, along with passports I’d stored there “just in case” without ever admitting to myself why.

“Can I bring Mr. Whiskers?” Daisy clutched her favorite stuffed cat.

“Of course, baby. Get your warmest coat too.”

I helped them bundle up, my hands steady now despite the earthquake in my chest. “Max, grab your pirate hat. Every good adventure needs a pirate.”

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the office parking lot. The building blazed with festive lights, music thumping through the walls. I could see shadows dancing behind the frosted windows and hear laughter spilling out into the cold night air.

I gripped my children’s hands tightly as we walked in, their small fingers warm and sticky with candy cane residue.

The room fell silent as I approached the DJ’s setup, gently but firmly taking the microphone from his hand. The feedback whine cut through the quiet like a knife.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” My voice rang out clear and strong, despite my racing heart. “I’m Lena, Michael’s wife.”

“I just wanted to introduce myself since I wasn’t invited to this lovely party.”

I saw Michael’s face drain of color. The woman in red stepped away from him like he’d suddenly burst into flames.

Michael rushed over to his boss.

That was all I needed to hear. He didn’t care about making this right with me, only about saving face with his colleagues.

I grabbed my children’s hands and walked out, head held high, the sound of whispered conversations following us like ghost stories. There was one last stop I had to make.

The pawn shop owner didn’t ask questions when I handed over the watches and cufflinks. The cash they brought would be enough.

“Are we going to see Santa?” Daisy asked as we pulled into the airport parking lot, her breath fogging the car window.

“We’re going somewhere even better, baby. We’re going where it’s warm and sunny.” I helped them out of the car, making sure Max didn’t forget his beloved pirate hat. “Where the ocean is as blue as your eyes.”

The perfect Christmas I’d planned lay in ruins back home, but maybe the gift I really needed was the strength to stop being the dutiful wife and start being the strong mother my children deserved.

A week later, Michael was waiting at the airport when we landed, unshaven and hollow-eyed.

“Lena, please… I’m so sorry. I was an idiot. It will never happen again. I promise.”

I studied his face and felt nothing but calm. The Miami sun had burned away more than just my winter pallor. “We’ll see, Michael. I need to think about what’s best for me and the kids.”

Here’s another story: When my brother Ben brushed off my polite requests to return the LEGO masterpieces his son swiped during a family dinner, I stayed calm. But after a month of “forgetting” to bring them back, I decided it was time for a creative lesson in karma. Click here to keep reading.

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.