After their marriage was arranged due to a business agreement between their parents, Jason and Aria had no choice but to get to know each other quickly. A few months in, the couple were expecting their first baby. But now that Lily is seven months old, Aria begins to wonder if Jason is really happy…

I wasn’t supposed to overhear it. But maybe I was meant to.

There’s something about family gatherings that always feels familiar. Warm. Chaotic. Comforting.

Today was no different.

Our daughter, Lily, was seven months old, and every time we visited Jason’s parents, she was the center of attention. Jason’s mom fussed over her, while his aunts and uncles passed her around, taking turns cooing and doting on her.

I sat on the couch outside, watching them, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.

“She’s just such a beautiful baby, Aria,” Jason’s aunt said. “Look at those eyes!”

I smiled at her, wondering how different everything could have been if Jason’s family hadn’t accepted us as we were.

Jason was in the kitchen with his mom, helping prepare dinner and getting everything ready for the grill outside. He always seemed so at ease in these moments, slipping effortlessly into the role of devoted son, loving husband, and doting father.

It hadn’t always been that way. At least, not in the beginning.

We were married young. I mean, I was only 20, and Jason had just turned 21. Our marriage was arranged by our parents in an effort to strengthen a business deal.

At first, I hated everything about it. I mean, Jason and I were only given two months to get to know each other before the wedding.

I wasn’t sure if love could grow in such a short amount of time. Especially between two people who were practically strangers.

But we tried.

And day by day, we learned each other’s quirks, built trust, and started creating a life together.

“I know that our relationship is based on our parents, Ari,” Jason said one day when we were getting ice cream together. “But we’ve both decided that we’re in this for the long haul. Right?”

“Right,” I agreed, adding chocolate sauce to my sundae.

“We can be happy, Aria,” he said, picking the cherry off my ice cream.

Things moved fast after that. We got married at a vineyard my father owned. And just a few months into our marriage, I found out I was pregnant with Lily.

The news hit us unexpectedly, and we were both hesitant about keeping our baby.

“What do you want to do?” he asked me one morning when I sat and looked at the pregnancy test.

“Keep her. I think the baby is a girl,” I said.

And just like that, it was decided.

Neither of us were prepared for it, but Jason stepped up in ways I hadn’t expected. After the business deal went through, my parents moved to a different state, leaving me to fend for myself in my marriage with a baby on the way.

Instead, Jason spoke to his parents and decided to take a year off work from his job at his father’s company to support me.

From that moment on, he was by my side, through every bout of morning sickness, every doctor’s appointment, and every sleepless night.

I leaned into his support, but at the back of my mind, I wondered if he ever felt the weight of it all. Jason was many things, but emotional wasn’t one of them. He rarely talked about his feelings and what this new life together meant to him.

But today, as the noise of family surrounded me, I couldn’t help but think about how far we’d come.

I stood up and quietly headed down the hallway, planning to check on Jason and Salma, my mother-in-law, in the kitchen.

But halfway there, I heard his voice.

I paused, not wanting to interrupt. He was speaking in a tone that I’d never quite heard before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without Aria and Lily, Mom,” Jason said softly.

I froze in place, my heart pounding. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but something about the way Jason said my name held me captive.

His voice lowered.

“She’s changed my life, Mom. Like before, I was just interested in parties and chilling on the boat. But now? I wake up every day and think about how lucky I am. I mean, I never really imagined this kind of happiness.”

I stayed hidden just around the corner from the kitchen arch, straining to hear every word. My mind raced as I tried to process the depth of his emotion.

Jason wasn’t the kind of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve like this. And if I’m being really honest, I had been wondering whether our little life was good enough for him.

We had gone from strangers to married to being parents in less than a year. Everything was rushed. So, I wondered whether his feelings for me were true.

But now? Hearing this?

I wasn’t so insecure anymore.

“I wouldn’t be half the man I am without her,” he continued.

There was a pause, and all I could hear was something being chopped.

“That’s beautiful, honey,” Salma said. “I’m glad that you feel this way. You know, when Dad and Aria’s father came to their arrangement, I wasn’t sure about it because of your age. I thought that we were setting you two up for divorce or failure in general. But you guys hit it off and made something wonderful.”

“I don’t tell Ari enough, but she’s everything to me. And Lily, my God! That little girl has taught me more about love than I ever thought possible.”

“That’s the love of a parent, my boy,” Salma said. “And the feeling that comes with being in love and at peace with your relationship.”

Tears filled my eyes, and I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back the sob that threatened to escape.

Jason had no idea that I was there, listening to the most beautiful confession I had ever heard. I wanted to run into the kitchen, wrap my arms around him, and tell him how much those words meant to me.

But I stayed rooted to my spot, overwhelmed by the weight of what I’d just overheard.

Instead, after a few minutes, I walked outside to join the rest of the family as they played with Lily.

I sat down, pretending everything was normal. I mean, it was, but it was also so much better. The world seemed brighter.

I had been worrying about our future and whether we even had a future lined up. We were young, I knew that. But a part of me always felt like we were doomed from the start.

And I had always known that he cared, but I didn’t know he felt this deeply.

How had I missed that?

Was I too caught up in being Lily’s mother? Had I been ignoring Jason?

That evening, after we returned home and put Lily to bed, the silence between us felt heavy. Jason sat beside me on the couch, his hand resting on my knee as he ate some of the leftover dessert we brought home.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, his voice soft. “Is something on your mind?”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to begin.

I wanted to tell him everything I’d heard, but I didn’t know how Jason would react.

Finally, I took a deep breath.

“I overheard you today… when you were in the kitchen with your mom.”

Jason’s eyes widened for a moment before he glanced down.

“What did you hear?” he asked.

“You said… you said that you wouldn’t be the man you are without me. You said I’m everything to you.”

“You heard that?” he gasped.

I nodded.

“I was coming to see if you guys needed help. Lily was with the rest of the family. Jason, I had no idea. I mean, I knew you loved me, but hearing you say that…”

“Aria, I meant it,” he said quietly. “I don’t say it enough. I know that. But it’s true, Aria. You’ve made me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you. Without Lily. You two are everything.”

The next day, I wanted to show Jason how much his words meant to me. I spent most of the day cooking his favorite meal, and I decorated the house with candles and notes detailing all the things I loved about him written down.

When Jason walked in that evening, his face lit up.

“What’s all this?” he asked, smiling.

“This,” I said. “Is my way of saying thank you. For everything.”

We put Lily to bed and had our romantic dinner. And in that moment, I realized that arranged marriage or not, we were happy. And we were in love.

And that we had made it.

What would you have done?

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

My Fiancé Humiliated Me in His Wedding Vows — He Regretted It Later

As Emily walks down the aisle, she feels as though she is finally living her wedding dream. The dress is perfect just like the venue, music, and her groom. Until it’s time for the vows when Jason completely humiliates her in front of everyone. But later, he gets a taste of his own medicine.

It was the day that I had been waiting for. After months of wedding planning and dieting to fit into my dream dress. This was the moment.

“Come on, darling,” my father said, holding out his hand, ready to walk me down the aisle to Jason.

“How do you feel?” my father asked me, kissing my forehead.

“Happy,” I said simply. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years now, Dad.”

We walked down the aisle to soft music that I had chosen months ago. The guitarist perched on a wooden stool.

“You look beautiful, Emily,” Jason said, taking my hand from my father.

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.

In our house, our workaholic dad was king and our mom his servant. Us kids were practically ghosts. Until the day we decided to open Dad’s eyes with a risky plan, not knowing how it would end up changing everything.

Ever felt like you were invisible in your own home? Like the person you’re supposed to look up to doesn’t even know you exist? That’s been my life for as long as I can remember. I’m Irene, and this is the story of how my brother and I had to teach our dad a lesson he’d never forget…

It was a typical Tuesday evening. I sat at the kitchen table, math homework spread out in front of me, while my younger brother Josh sprawled on the living room floor, nose buried in a comic book. The clock on the wall ticked steadily towards 6 p.m.

Right on cue, the front door swung open. Dad trudged in, briefcase bag in hand, tie already loosened. He barely glanced our way as he called out, “Hey.”

I looked up, hoping for… something. A smile? A “How was your day?” But nope. Nothing.

Instead, he bellowed, “Mariam! Where’s my dinner?”

Mom appeared from the laundry room, looking frazzled. “Coming, Carl. Just finishing up the laundry.”

Dad grunted, kicking off his shoes. “Well, hurry up. I’m starving.”

I watched as he made a beeline for the PlayStation, plopping down on the couch without so much as a “How are you?” to any of us. The familiar sounds of his racing game filled the room, drowning out everything else.

Josh caught my eye from across the room. He rolled his eyes, and I nodded in silent agreement. This was our normal, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Mom rushed past, arms full of laundry. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Carl.”

No response. Just the screeching of virtual tires and Dad’s occasional muttered curse.

I sighed, turning back to my homework. Another night in the Thompson household, where Dad was king, Mom was the servant, and Josh and I, well, we might as well have been furniture.

“Earth to Irene,” Josh’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “You gonna help me with my English homework or what?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, sure. Let me finish this problem first.”

As I bent over my textbook, I couldn’t help but wonder: How long could we go on like this?

The next evening, things reached a boiling point. I was setting the table for dinner when I heard Dad’s voice from the living room.

“Mariam! Why are these magazines so dusty? Don’t you ever clean around here?”

I peeked around the corner to see Dad holding up one of his car magazines, a scowl on his face. Mom stood nearby, looking exhausted and defeated.

“I’m sorry, Carl. I’ve been so busy with work and—”

“Busy?” Dad scoffed, rubbing his chin. “I work too, you know. But I expect to come home to a clean house. Is that too much to ask?”

My blood boiled. Mom worked just as hard as Dad, if not harder. She had a full-time job, plus she did all the cooking, cleaning, and taking care of us kids. And what did Dad do? Work, eat, play video games, sleep. Rinse and repeat.

“That’s it,” I muttered under my breath. I stormed into the kitchen where Josh was grabbing a snack.

“We need to do something,” I said, my voice low.

Josh raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About Dad. This can’t go on. He treats Mom like dirt, and us like we don’t even exist. We need to show him what it feels like.”

A slow grin spread across Josh’s face. “I’m listening.”

We huddled together, whispering furiously as we hatched our plan. It was time to give Dad a taste of his own medicine.

“You really think this’ll work?” Josh asked as we finalized the details.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But we have to try something. For Mom’s sake, if nothing else.”

Josh nodded solemnly. “Alright, let’s do this.”

As we separated, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of excitement and nervousness. Would this work? Or would it just make things worse?

The next day, Josh and I put our plan into motion. We convinced Mom to take a spa day, assuring her we’d take care of things at home. She was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed, clearly in need of a break.

As 6 p.m. approached, Josh and I got ready. We raided Dad’s closet, pulling out two of his shirts and ties. The clothes hung off our smaller frames, but that was part of the effect we were going for.

“Ready?” I asked Josh as we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.

He nodded, straightening his too-large tie. “Let’s do this.”

We took our positions — Josh on the couch with a magazine and me standing near the door. My heart was pounding as we heard Dad’s key in the lock.

The door swung open, and Dad stepped in. He froze, taking in the sight of us in his clothes.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice. “Why are you guys wearing my shirt?”

I fixed him with a stern look. “I need my dinner,” I said, mimicking his usual demanding tone.

Josh didn’t even look up from his magazine. “And don’t forget to clean up the PlayStation when you’re done.”

Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait a minute. What are you two doing?”

I waved him off dismissively. “Hey, I’m busy. Don’t bother me with questions.”

“Yeah,” Josh chimed in, “go ask Mom. Isn’t that what you usually do?”

Dad stood there, mouth agape, as we continued our act. I grabbed the PlayStation controller and started playing, while Josh flipped through the magazine with exaggerated disinterest.

“Seriously, what is this?” Dad’s voice was a mix of frustration and bewilderment.

I looked up, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? I’m kind of in the middle of something important here.”

“Just like you always are,” Josh added.

A heavy silence fell over the room. I could almost see the gears turning in Dad’s head as he watched us. Slowly, his expression changed from confusion to dawning realization.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost vulnerable. “Is this… is this how you see me?”

The moment of truth had arrived. I took a deep breath, dropping the act.

“Yes, Dad. This is exactly how you’ve been treating us and Mom. You’re always too busy for us, and you treat Mom like she’s just here to serve you.”

Josh joined in, his voice steady despite the emotion I could see in his eyes. “She works just as hard as you do, but she also has to take care of everything at home. And all you do is complain and demand things from her.”

Dad’s shoulders slumped as the weight of our words hit him. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the front door opened once more.

Mom walked in, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her in years. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing between us and Dad.

Dad turned to her, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I… I think I’ve been a terrible husband and father,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how bad it was until now.”

Without another word, he walked into the kitchen. We all watched in stunned silence as he started pulling out pots and pans.

“Carl?” Mom called out, confusion evident in her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Making dinner! Flatbread, anyone?!” came his reply. “Please, sit down. All of you.”

Josh and I exchanged a look of disbelief before joining Mom at the table. We sat in awkward silence as the sounds and smells of cooking filled the air.

Finally, Dad emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot. He set it down on the table and began serving us each a portion.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he worked. “For everything. I’ve been neglecting you all, and I see that now. I’ll do better, I promise.”

As we began to eat, I couldn’t help but marvel at how different this felt. Dad was actually present, asking us about our day, listening to our responses. It was… nice. Weird, but nice.

“So,” Dad said, clearing his throat. “Tell me what I’ve missed. How’s school going for you two?”

Josh and I looked at each other, then back at Dad. Was this for real?

“It’s… fine,” I said cautiously. “I’ve got a big history test coming up next week.”

Dad nodded, actually seeming interested. “Maybe I could help you study?”

The offer took me by surprise. “Yeah,” I said, a small smile forming. “That’d be great.”

As we finished dinner, Dad looked at us with a smile, a real one, not the distracted half-smiles we were used to. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For showing me how I was acting. I needed that wake-up call.”

I felt a warmth in my chest I hadn’t experienced in a long time. “We’re just glad you listened, Dad.”

Josh grinned mischievously. “And maybe now you’ll actually join us to play games?”

Dad laughed, a full, hearty laugh that I realized I’d missed hearing. “Deal. But first, let’s clean up together.”

As we all pitched in to clear the table and wash dishes, I couldn’t help but feel hopeful. This was just one night, and I knew things wouldn’t magically be perfect from here on out. But it was a start, a real one. And for the first time in years, we felt like a family again.

Here’s another story: I chose to dishonor my dad’s final wish by doing something that haunts me. But there is a heartbreaking reason behind it that still makes me cry.

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.

Often, people will pass unnecessary judgments without knowing someone’s story. This was the case for Maria, who worked every day to give her son the best chance at a bright future. One day, Maria proved everyone’s assumptions wrong.

Maria’s life had always been an uphill battle. She came from a poor background and, despite her best efforts, always seemed to get the short end of the stick. She dedicated her life to ensuring that her son, Aiden, had the best upbringing possible.

She worked for a cleaning company as a janitor and often struggled to make ends meet. Maria worked 12 hours daily to ensure that she could feed Aiden and that he was taken care of. Once he was old enough, she sent him to a good boarding school in the suburbs.

“I’m gonna work real hard off to make sure you can attend college. Momma’s got you covered, okay,” she told Aiden before he boarded the bus. Maria made sure to write to Aiden every chance that she could.

Years later, Aiden excelled in science and told her he had the opportunity to job shadow a doctor at a medical practice. He decided that’s what he wanted to be when he grew up. Aiden also revealed to Maria that he met a girl named Linda while job shadowing and the two had started dating.

“Just remember, some of us might come from nothing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be something.”

It turned out that Linda was the daughter of another doctor at the practice that Aiden had visited. “Listen, son, I don’t want you to get your heart broken. But Linda comes from wealth, and her family might look down on you,” Maria wrote to her son.

“Don’t worry, mom. She knows where we’re from, and she doesn’t care. She loves me as I am. Trust me, you’ll see,” Aiden wrote back. Aiden and Linda stayed together after graduating high school and attended the same college.

Once Maria met Linda, she understood why Aiden loved her so much. Linda was humble and didn’t judge Maria even when she learned where she worked. When Aiden revealed that he and Linda had gotten engaged, Maria gave her blessing immediately.

Maria decided to throw an engagement party at a local restaurant to celebrate and meet Linda’s parents, Hugh and Elizabeth.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, Maria. My parents are very stuck up, so when they learned about Aiden’s background, they didn’t give their blessing,” Linda revealed.

After some time, Hugh and Elizabeth reluctantly gave Aiden their blessing and agreed to pay for the wedding. The ceremony was quite extravagant. Linda wore a designer wedding dress that her grandmother had gifted her. The cake was giant, and Hugh had hired a famous chef to cater the wedding.

Maria finally had the opportunity to meet Hugh and Elizabeth, but they didn’t treat her kindly. When asked what degree she had, Maria replied, “I didn’t get the chance to finish my studies because Aiden’s dad left me to raise him alone.”

“Well, if we hadn’t worked hard, then we couldn’t have given Linda all of this,” Elizabeth replied rudely. Hugh and Elizabeth had VIP guests, including well-known businessmen from around the city. When asked who Maria was, they seemed embarrassed to reveal that she was the groom’s mother.

After the vows and I-dos were said, it was the turn of the groom and bride’s families to give speeches. Hugh and Elizabeth took the stage first to congratulate the newlyweds on their union. They then revealed their gift, which surprised Aiden and Linda because Hugh had already paid for the wedding.

“We’re really sorry. We’ve mistreated you since the moment we met you.”

“We know you are both house-hunting and will move in together soon. So we’re going to pay for all of your furniture and appliances,” Huge revealed.

“Once you’ve found a house, it will be fully furnished,” Elizabeth added. The gift was met with applause from the attendees. Hugh and Elizabeth looked on with pride at the reaction. Next to the stage was Maria. Many guests began to whisper and murmur as they all expected a gift that would be quite cheap in comparison.

Maria wiped away a tear of joy as she congratulated the newlyweds. She didn’t care about the judgment. Maria was just proud of her son and daughter-in-law. But what she said next shocked the entire wedding party.

“I worked all my life and saved up to pay for your college tuition because I knew it would be expensive. Then you decided you wanted to be a doctor, and I thought, wow, even more expensive,” Maria joked.

She could tell that Hugh and Elizabeth were laughing at her, not with her. Maria reached into her purse for an envelope before continuing.

“The funny thing is, you got a scholarship to study medicine anyway, so you didn’t even need all the money I saved. So now that you’re about to get your doctorate and you’re getting married to this brilliant young woman, what better way to congratulate you than by buying you a house,” Maria revealed.

The entire wedding party gasped in shock as Maria opened her envelope and handed a set of keys to Aiden and Linda. Everyone stood to applaud while Hugh and Elizabeth were left stunned. After the ceremony ended, Hugh and Elizabeth apologized to Maria.

“We’re really sorry. We’ve mistreated you since the moment we met you. We apologize for judging you. You’ve really shown us how remarkable you are,” Elizabeth told Maria.

“Just remember, some of us might come from nothing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be something,” Maria replied.

By the end of the year, Aiden had finished his doctorate and joined Hugh’s practice to work as a doctor. Aiden insisted that Maria retire from working as a janitor. Hugh and Elizabeth followed suit soon afterward. Linda threw Maria a retirement party, and Aiden bought her a brand-new car to thank her for everything.

Soon, Aiden and Linda had children of their own. Maria lived as a grandparent for the children, a role she happily shared with Hugh and Elizabeth.

What can we learn from this story?

Don’t take negative judgment to heart. All that mattered to Maria was her son’s happiness and success. She didn’t let the judgment bring her down, and in the end, she proved all of her doubters wrong.

You never know what someone has been through. Hugh and Elizabeth had false perceptions of who Maria was based on the fact that she was a janitor. In the end, they realized that Maria was just as hard-working and deserving of respect as anyone else.

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

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a rich mom at a Christmas school fair who mocks another mom who works at night.

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. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.

For Nancy her son Henry was everything, she never imagined her life without him. It had been 23 years since the horrible accident that took Henry’s life. Every year on that day, she took his favorite pie to his grave to honor his memory. But this year, everything was about to change.

For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, never missed a single day on this date. She baked her late son’s favorite pie and took it to his grave every year since.

The pie, a simple yet delicious apple and cinnamon creation, had been Henry’s favorite since childhood.

The scent of apples and cinnamon brought back memories of when Henry was little, running into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the pie.

It was his favorite dessert, and baking it had become a tradition they both cherished.

Since Henry’s tragic accident at 17, this ritual had been Nancy’s way of keeping his memory alive.

It gave her a sense of connection to him, like she was still doing something special for her boy. Losing him had been the hardest thing she had ever gone through. The pain of that day never left her.

Even though the years had passed, her grief remained, only softened by time and the small comfort this tradition brought her.

On this particular day, just like every year before, Nancy carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the graveyard.

The weight of the dish felt heavier, as it always did when she walked toward Henry’s resting place. The grave was neat and covered in flowers, a sign of how much he was still loved.

The stone had become smoother over the years, as she had often run her fingers over it, lost in her memories.

Nancy knelt, placing the pie gently on the gravestone. Her heart ached as she began to speak, her voice quiet, as though Henry might somehow hear her.

“Henry, I hope you’re at peace, my love. I miss you every day. I baked your favorite pie again. Remember how we used to bake it together? You’d always sneak a taste before it was done.”

She smiled, but her eyes were misty with tears. “I wish we could do that one more time.”

The familiar sorrow welled up inside her, but Nancy had learned over the years to push through the tears.

She wiped her eyes quickly and managed a small smile. After a few more moments of silence, she kissed her fingers and touched the top of the gravestone as she said her quiet goodbye.

Then, with a heavy but comforted heart, she turned and walked away, knowing she’d be back next year, just like always.

The next day, as part of her routine, Nancy made her way back to Henry’s grave to clean up the remains of the pie.

Usually, by the time she returned, the pie was either untouched or spoiled by the weather, a quiet reminder of her son’s absence.

She had always found it a bittersweet comfort, knowing the pie stayed where she left it as if waiting for him.

But today, as she approached the grave, something felt different. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that the plate was clean—completely empty. For a moment, she stood frozen in disbelief.

Then, she noticed something else. Resting on the plate was a small piece of paper, folded in half.

Nancy’s hands trembled as she picked up the note. Her breath caught in her throat as she unfolded it.

The handwriting was shaky, as though whoever had written it had struggled to form the letters. The simple words read: “Thank you.”

Her heart pounded with confusion and anger.

“Who would take Henry’s pie?” she muttered under her breath, clutching the note tightly. “This was for my son. No one had the right to touch it!”

Her private ritual, her way of honoring and remembering her son, had been invaded by a stranger.

She felt violated, as if someone had stolen a piece of her grief.

With her emotions swirling—part outrage, part confusion—Nancy left the cemetery, her mind set on finding the person who had taken her son’s pie. She had to know who had done this, and why.

Determined to catch the culprit, Nancy decided she would take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t let someone continue to disturb the way she honored Henry. So, she devised a plan.

That night, she baked another of Henry’s favorite pies, the same apple and cinnamon recipe she had been making for over two decades.

The next morning, with renewed resolve, she placed the freshly baked pie on Henry’s grave, just like before, but this time she wasn’t leaving.

She found a large oak tree nearby and hid behind it, close enough to see the grave but far enough to not be noticed.

The warm aroma of the pie drifted through the air, filling the quiet cemetery.

Time passed slowly as Nancy watched and waited, her heart racing in anticipation.

An hour later, she spotted movement. A small figure cautiously approached the grave. Nancy squinted, leaning forward to get a better look.

It wasn’t the greedy thief she had imagined. No, this was something entirely different.

A young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt smudged on his face, moved toward the pie with hesitant steps.

Nancy’s heart tightened as she watched him. The boy didn’t immediately take the pie.

Instead, he knelt by the grave and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small scrap of paper and a dull pencil. His hand trembled as he carefully scribbled something on the paper, his brow furrowed with concentration.

It was clear the boy struggled with writing, but he took his time, making sure each word was legible.

Nancy’s heart softened as she saw him write “Thank you” on the paper, just like before. He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t someone disrespecting Henry’s memory. He was just a hungry child, grateful for the kindness of a pie left behind.

The anger that had once consumed Nancy melted away in an instant. She realized this boy wasn’t stealing; he was surviving. He was in need, and her son’s favorite pie had somehow brought him comfort.

As the boy began to pick up the pie, his small hands shaking, Nancy stepped out from her hiding spot.

The rustle of leaves under her feet made him freeze, wide-eyed. Startled, he dropped the pie, and it tumbled onto the grass. His face paled, and he backed away, looking terrified.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” the boy cried, his voice trembling with panic. “I was just so hungry, and the pie was so good. Please don’t be mad.”

Nancy’s heart softened instantly. The sight of him—thin, dirty, and scared—erased any trace of anger she had felt before.

She knelt beside him, speaking gently, her voice as comforting as she could make it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you, Where are your parents?” she said, her tone soothing. The boy stayed silent and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked another question understanding that the boy had nowhere to go.

“Jimmy,” he muttered, still avoiding her eyes, ashamed of what he had done.

“Well, Jimmy,” Nancy smiled softly, trying to reassure him, “it’s okay. You don’t have to steal pies. If you’re hungry, all you had to do was ask.”

Jimmy looked up at her, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. “I didn’t mean to steal,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “I just… I don’t get to eat much, and that pie was the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Nancy’s heart ached for him, her mind flooded with thoughts of how different this boy’s life must be.

The hunger in his eyes reminded her of her own son, Henry, when he would eagerly wait for that first bite of her freshly baked pie.

But Henry never had to worry about where his next meal would come from. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked like he had been living with hunger for a long time.

“Come with me,” Nancy said after a moment of thought. She stood up and reached out her hand to him. “I’ll bake you a fresh pie, just for you.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust his own ears. “Really?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and doubt.

Nancy nodded, her heart filled with a strange but comforting warmth. “Yes, really. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Slowly, Jimmy reached out and took Nancy’s hand.

She led him back to her home, the boy walking beside her in silence, his eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure if this was all real. Nancy’s heart swelled with the thought of what she was about to do.

Baking had always been her way of expressing love, and now, after years of baking for a son she could no longer see, she was about to bake for someone who truly needed it.

When they reached her cozy kitchen, Nancy set to work, rolling out the dough, slicing the apples, and adding the perfect amount of cinnamon—just as she had done so many times before.

Jimmy watched her quietly from the corner of the kitchen, his eyes wide as he followed every move she made.

The smell of the pie began to fill the room, warm and comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.

Once the pie was baked, Nancy placed it in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“This one’s all for you.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. But then he grabbed a slice and took a bite. His face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling as he chewed.

“This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his mouth still full. He ate with such happiness that it brought tears to Nancy’s eyes.

She watched him in silence, thinking about how something as simple as a pie could bring so much comfort to someone.

As Jimmy devoured the warm slices with obvious delight, Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry.

She had always dreamed of seeing her son eat his favorite pie again, of watching him enjoy it the way he used to when he was a child.

But now, in some strange and unexpected way, she was sharing it with another boy who needed it just as much.

Watching Jimmy eat, Nancy felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be.

Maybe fate had brought Jimmy into her life for a reason. By feeding him, by offering him kindness when he needed it most, she was honoring Henry’s memory in a way she had never imagined.

For the first time in years, Nancy felt that her grief had led her to something beautiful—a connection, a purpose that gave new meaning to her life.

Maybe, just maybe, this was Henry’s way of sending her a message—that love and kindness should always find their way back to those in need.

Nancy smiled as she watched Jimmy finish the last slice of pie, her heart full of warmth and gratitude.

She had found an unexpected connection in the most unlikely place, and it filled her soul in a way that nothing else had in years.

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

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Martha was always quiet and smiling. No matter how hard or small the task, she was always ready to help. One of her colleagues, Chelsea, often took advantage of Martha’s kind nature by asking her to do her work for her. But this time, Chelsea unintentionally did Martha a favor. Read the full story here.

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. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.

Miriam’s relaxing beach getaway was shattered when she locked eyes with her daughter Pamela and her son-in-law across the hotel lobby, the same people she had tearfully buried five years earlier. With her heart racing, Miriam had to decide: confront the ghosts before her, or let them slip away into the sun-drenched crowd.

Miriam stepped out of the airport shuttle, inhaling deeply. The salty air of The Bahamas filled her lungs, which was a welcome change from the stuffy plane cabin.

At sixty-five, this vacation was long overdue. Five years of grief had taken their toll on Miriam, etching lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before.

The Ocean Club Resort rose before her. Its gleaming structure promised nothing but relaxation and escape, so Miriam allowed herself a small smile as she followed a bellhop into the lobby.

The marble floors echoed with the chatter of excited tourists and the clinking of luggage carts, and Miriam stared at all their happy faces, hoping she would end up feeling just like them.

“Welcome to The Ocean Club, ma’am. May I have your name for check-in?” The receptionist’s cheerful voice snapped Miriam out of her thoughts.

“Leary. Miriam,” she replied, fishing for her ID from her purse.

As the receptionist tapped away at the computer, Miriam’s gaze wandered. That’s when she saw them.

Time seemed to stop.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Standing by the gift shop, examining a display of colorful seashells, were two people who couldn’t possibly be there. Her daughter, Pamela, and son-in-law, Frank.

But they were dead. Killed in a car crash five years ago… Or so she thought.

“Ma’am? Your room key,” the receptionist’s voice sounded distant.

Miriam’s hand shot out, grabbing the key without looking, while her eyes never left the couple as they turned away from the gift shop and headed for the exit.

“Hold my bags,” Miriam barked, already moving. “I’ll be right back.”

She hustled across the lobby, struggling with her breath. She was really out of shape, and the couple was almost at the door.

“Pamela!” Miriam called out. Even her own ears heard the desperation.

The woman turned, and her eyes widened in shock. It was unmistakably Pamela!

Suddenly, she grabbed her husband’s arm and whispered something urgently. Frank looked back, and Miriam saw his face transform into a mask of panic.

Without any more warning, they bolted.

Miriam’s heart raced as she followed them out into the bright sunlight.

“Stop right there!” she yelled, her voice carrying across the palm-lined driveway. “Or I’ll call the police!“

The threat worked.

The couple froze, and their shoulders slumped in defeat. Slowly, they turned to face her.

Pamela’s eyes brimmed with tears, but Miriam had no idea why. Was Pamela crying because of guilt, because of the lie, or because of something else?

“Mom,” her daughter whispered. “We can explain.”

***

Pamela and Frank’s hotel room door clicked shut behind them, sealing off the cheerful vacation atmosphere outside. Inside, the air felt heavy, charged with the past five years of Miriam’s mourning and her current anger.

She stood rigid with her arms crossed. “Start talking,” she demanded firmly.

Frank cleared his throat. “Mrs. Leary, we never meant to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Miriam’s laugh was harsh. “I buried you. Both of you. I grieved for five years. And now you’re standing here, telling me you never meant to hurt me?”

Pamela stepped forward, trying to reach out. “Mom, please. We had our reasons.“

Miriam recoiled from her daughter, although she also had the same urge. “What reason could possibly justify this?”

Frank and Pamela exchanged troubled glances, and it took a second before Frank spoke. “We won the lottery.”

Silence fell, broken only by the distant sound of waves crashing on the beach outside.

“The lottery,” Miriam repeated flatly. “So you faked your own deaths… because you won money?”

Pamela nodded and began to elaborate, although her voice could barely be heard.

“It was a lot of money, Mom. We knew if people found out, they’d all want a piece. We just wanted to start fresh, without any obligations.”

“Obligations?” Miriam’s own voice rose. “Like paying back the money you borrowed from Frank’s family for that failed business? Like being there for your cousin’s kids after their parents died? Those kinds of obligations?”

Frank’s face hardened. “We didn’t owe anyone anything. This was our chance to live the life we always wanted, and we don’t plan on letting anyone get in our way.”

“At the expense of everyone who loved you, and I bet you’re also avoiding taxes,” Miriam shot back. She turned to her daughter. “Pamela, how could you do this? To me?”

Pamela looked down and sniffled. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t want to, but Frank said…”

“Don’t blame this on me,” Frank interjected. “You agreed to the plan.”

Miriam watched as her daughter wilted under her husband’s glare. At that moment, she clearly saw the dynamic between them, and her heart broke anew.

“Pamela,” she said softly. “Come home with me. We can fix this. Make it right.”

For a moment, hope flared in Pamela’s eyes. Then Frank’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“We’re not going anywhere,” he said, resolute. “Our life is here now. We have everything we need.”

Pamela’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered. “I can’t.“

Miriam stood there, staring at the strangers her daughter and son-in-law had become. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the room.

She couldn’t enjoy her vacation after that and changed her plans immediately. But the trip home was a blur.

Miriam moved on autopilot as her mind replayed the confrontation over and over. What should she do? Was faking your death illegal? Was Frank hiding something else?

However, by the time she reached her empty house, she had made a decision. She wouldn’t report them. Not yet.

She’d leave that door open, hoping against hope that Pamela would walk through it one day.

***

Three years passed.

Miriam tried to move on, but the weight of this secret and the pain of betrayal never truly left her. Then, one rainy afternoon, there was a knock at her door.

Miriam opened it to find Pamela standing on her porch, soaked from the rain, with her arms wrapped around her body and looking utterly lost.

“Mom,” Pamela’s voice cracked. “Can I come in?”

Miriam hesitated, then stepped aside.

Pamela shuffled in, leaving a trail of water on the hardwood floor. In the harsh light of the entryway, Miriam could see how much her daughter had changed.

The designer clothes and perfectly styled hair were gone, replaced by worn jeans and messy hair. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.

“What happened?” Miriam asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Pamela sank onto the couch, her shoulders hunched. “It’s all gone,” she whispered. “The money, the house, everything. Frank… he got into some bad investments. Started gambling. I tried to stop him, but…”

She looked up, meeting Miriam’s eyes for the first time. “He left. Took what was left and disappeared. I don’t know where he is.”

Miriam sat down across from her daughter, processing the information.

Part of her wanted to comfort Pamela, to wrap her in a hug and tell her everything would be okay. But the wounds were still too fresh, the betrayal too deep.

“Why are you here, Pamela?” she asked quietly.

Pamela’s lips trembled. “I didn’t know where else to go. I know I don’t deserve your help, after everything we did. How selfish I was. But I… I miss you, Mom. I’m so sorry. For all of it.”

Silence stretched between them because Miriam had no idea what to do. This was what she wanted ever since that day in The Bahamas.

So, she studied her daughter’s face, searching for signs of the girl she used to know. After a few moments, Miriam sighed.

“I can’t just forgive and forget, Pamela. What you and Frank did… it was more than just lying. I think you broke the law. Faking your death may not be exactly illegal, but I bet you didn’t pay any taxes on that money. But also, you hurt a lot of people, not just me.”

Pamela nodded as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I know,” she whispered. “And you’re right. Part of the reason Frank wanted to leave was to avoid paying taxes. Everything else… what he didn’t want to pay back to his family… well, that was just icing.”

“If you want to make this right with me and with everyone else,” Miriam continued, her voice firm, “you need to face the consequences. That means going to the police. Telling them everything. About the faked deaths and everything else you two did with that money. All of it.”

Pamela’s eyes widened in fear. “But… I could go to jail.”

“Yes,” Miriam agreed. “You could. I don’t want you to, but it’s the only way forward. The only way to truly make amends.”

For a long moment, Pamela sat frozen, sniffling slightly. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

Miriam felt a glimmer of pride break through her anger and hurt. Maybe her daughter wasn’t completely lost after all. Being far away from Frank was definitely a good thing for her.

“Alright then,” she said, standing up. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes. Then we’ll head down to the station.”

As they walked out to the car a short while later, Pamela hesitated. “Mom?” she asked. “Will you… will you stay with me? While I talk to them?”

Miriam paused, then reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand, allowing herself to again feel and show all the love she had for her. “Yes,” she said warmly and desperately. “I’ll be there, for sure.”

“Thank you,” Pamela nodding and taking a deep breath. Suddenly, her expression shifted. Her mouth set in a firm line, and determination filled her eyes. “Let’s go.”

There’s my girl!

Click here to read another story: For nearly a month, Julia struggled to accept her son’s passing, until one day, she received a message from his phone: “Help! I’m sending a geolocation!” A spark of hope ignited in her, especially because…she never saw his body.

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 it was going to be a normal day at work until a stranger mocked me for something I had no control over. When I discovered who the stranger was, I didn’t hold back in calling her out. The best thing about the confrontation was that my father had my back.

I am sure I am not the only person who’s heard that if your partner mistreats service workers, that should be a red flag for your relationship. Their mistreatment is a sign that they look down on people who they feel are beneath them.

I learned this lesson during a recent and unexpected incident. See, I had been working at this restaurant for a year while busy with my Anthropology studies.

I would whip out my books and study between orders and when it was a slow day in the restaurant. Today was a busy day, and I hadn’t yet had a chance to go through my schoolwork, and worried I’d fall behind.

Juggling a part-time job and school isn’t easy. On that typical late evening, a middle-aged woman in a red dress walked into the establishment. For some reason, I distinctly felt a twinge of nerves.

She exuded an air of entitlement, and her sharp gaze scanned the room critically. Even so, I approached her with my usual courtesy, ready to take her order. “Good evening! I’m Alice. May I take your order, please?” I greeted her warmly with a broad and inviting smile.

I hoped my positive demeanor would calm her down because standing close to her, I could FEEL her bristling with annoyance. Her eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down, clearly unimpressed.

I instantly cringed physically as if she’d hit me or touched me unexpectedly. “And what is this new look you’re showing off, young lady? Where is your apron?” she snapped.

I felt a familiar tightening in my throat, my stutter threatening to emerge. “M-ma’am, I, I’m…”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, cutting me off. “I can’t HEAR you! Do you speak normal English? God, I’ll fire you straight away when I own this little shack.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was on the verge of tears as I tried to make sense of her statement. I wondered what she meant by owning the restaurant. I was about to open my mouth to defend myself and the establishment she’d reduced to a “shack,” when something happened.

Just then, my dad’s voice rang out from behind her. “Oh, you already met each other, perfect!”

Met each other? What was he talking about… What happened next became an absolutely gorgeous and memorable moment because the stranger started stuttering!

“H-h-honey, what do you mean?!” she asked, her previous bravado vanishing.

My dad walked over, smiling warmly. “You still don’t get it? This is my daughter, Alice!” he said, pulling me close for a one-armed hug.

Her face turned a shade of crimson as she looked back at me, her demeanor shifting from arrogant to flustered in a heartbeat! At that moment, I realized the MOST interesting part of the evening was about to begin!

The thought of crying was long gone as my father’s presence bolstered me. “Please, continue with what you were saying, ma’am. What were you saying you were going to do after you fired me when you own, what did you call it again? Ah yes! This shack?” I asked, grinning widely.

She stammered, trying to salvage the situation. “Oh, darling, you didn’t get the gist of what I was saying.”

“What were you saying, Donna?” my father asked as he started putting two and two together.

“Well, darling, of course, I was just j-j-joking!”

The woman punctuated the last word with a fake smile that convinced no one!

I raised an eyebrow, mimicking her earlier tone. “Oh, what’s wrong with YOUR English? So you can s-s-stutter and others can’t?”

My dad stood there, speechless, trying to process the situation.

I took a deep breath and turned to him, my heart pounding. “Dad, I’m sorry, but it seems like your taste in women failed after Mom.”

Donna reached out to him, but he stepped back, his expression hardening. “Please, honey, you have to understand. It was all a misunderstanding,” she pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice.

He shook his head, his disappointment evident. “I simply CAN NOT believe you’d talk like that with my daughter. Moreover, you didn’t know it was her, so that’s how you talk to service people?”

Donna’s eyes widened with desperation as she realized that things were backfiring on her.

I stood opposite my dad with a smug look and arms folded as I listened to their back and forth.

“No, no, I didn’t MEAN it that way. I just… I was having a bad day!” she exclaimed, sounding exasperated.

“Even a bad day wouldn’t excuse your behavior, Donna. You showed me your true colors,” my father said, his words marked with sadness.

“And those colors aren’t very pretty,” I added, siding with my dad.

“Please, give me another chance. I promise I’ll do and be better,” Donna begged softly, her voice breaking as all her arrogance went out the door. She never expected to get caught showing her true self.

A part of me felt sorry for her. It was clear from how she was reacting that she loved my dad, but how she treated me said a lot about her character. I wondered how many more people she had abused while they rendered services to her.

Whether she loved my dad or not didn’t matter if she wasn’t a good person and, as they say, “First impressions last.”

My dad looked at her with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “No, I think it’s best if we part ways. I can’t be with someone who disrespects my daughter and others like that.”

“Goodbye, and enjoy your last meal here, because I don’t think you’ll be welcome back,” I said, feeling a surge of confidence.

Donna’s face twisted in anger and humiliation as she opened her mouth to say something. But she thought against it before storming out of the restaurant. My dad turned to me, his expression softening. “I’m so sorry, Alice. I had no idea she was like that.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m just glad you know now,” I replied, feeling a wave of relief.

We hugged, and the other patrons in the restaurant, who had been quietly watching the scene, began to clap. I felt a surge of pride, knowing I stood up for myself and that my dad had my back. His entitled girlfriend was gone, and my dad and I could move forward without her toxic presence.

As the evening wound down, the restaurant became quieter. My dad and I sat at one of the tables, sharing a cup of coffee. The confrontation was still fresh in our minds, and we found solace in each other’s company.

“Dad, why did you never tell her about me?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

He sighed, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. “I wanted to, but it never seemed like the right time. I didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“Well, now you know,” I said, a hint of bitterness creeping into my voice. “It’s not the first time someone has mocked my stutter, but it hurt more coming from someone you cared about.”

He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. “I’m so proud of you, my angel. You’ve grown into such a strong and resilient young woman.”

His words warmed my heart, and I smiled at him. “Thanks, Dad. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

“I noticed how heartbroken you were to have to end your relationship. I am sorry, Dad,” I said, reaching out to hug him tightly.

“Thanks, pumpkin,” he smiled. “I did love her. We were together for almost a year, and I thought she was the one until today.”

I was sad for my father but secretly relieved that Donna didn’t become my stepmother. Something told me that my stutter would have been the least of my worries when it came to that rude woman. But luckily, fate played a good hand for me.

As the evening progressed, we talked about everything and nothing. The restaurant staff, who had seen the earlier drama, gave me nods of approval and supportive smiles. I felt a newfound sense of belonging and acceptance.

A few days later, life at the restaurant returned to normal. The regulars came and went, the kitchen buzzed with activity, and the waitstaff moved swiftly to keep up with the dinner rush. I felt a renewed sense of purpose and confidence in my work.

Later that night, as I was cleaning up, my dad approached me with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been thinking about what happened with Donna,” he said.

I looked up from wiping down a table. “Yeah?”

“I realized that I’ve been too focused on finding someone new, and I haven’t been paying enough attention to you,” he admitted.

“Dad, it’s okay. I want you to be happy,” I replied, meaning every word.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. I need to be there for YOU more. You’ve always been there for me, and I want to do the same for you.”

I felt a lump in my throat, touched by his sincerity. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

We hugged again, and I knew our bond had grown stronger through this experience. The restaurant became more than just a place of work; it was a place of growth, resilience, and family.

The incident with Donna reminded me that people’s true colors always come out eventually. My dad’s ex-girlfriend learned that lesson the hard way. That mocking others, especially family, has consequences. And for me, it was a sweet victory, knowing I stood up for myself!

In the following story, a woman was mocked by a male customer for stuttering and delaying the line at a coffee shop. While she couldn’t fight for herself, the rude customer who mocked her got more than he bargained for when the waitress got revenge on behalf of the stuttering patron!

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.

Higashi, a Japanese tourist, entered a restaurant expecting a warm meal. But Andy, a seasoned waiter, had a cunning plan for non-native customers who didn’t speak English. He served Higashi reheated leftovers and robbed him. Andy thought he’d get away with it, but this time, he was sorely mistaken.

The dinner rush at Sizzling Steak was in full swing. Louise, a new waitress still finding her rhythm, weaved between tables with a practiced smile.

That’s when a middle-aged Japanese man, impeccably dressed in a kimono and overcoat, caught her eye.

He scanned the room before settling on a corner table. Louise hurried over, menu in hand. “Welcome to Sizzling Steak,” she greeted warmly. The man, Higashi, smiled back, his eyes crinkling with delight.

He spoke in rapid Japanese, gesturing at the picture of a juicy steak. “Steak,” he repeated, then added, “With rice… rice bowl!”

Louise, whose Japanese was limited to basic greetings, recognized the struggle. “Of course, sir, we have a delicious steak option!” she said brightly. “We don’t have rice bowls, but would you like fries with your steak?”

Higashi nodded vigorously. “Fries! Okay, okay!”

As Louise turned to leave, a wave of nausea hit her. There, by the counter, sat a half-eaten steak, cold and unappetizing. She grimaced, reaching for a plate to clear it away.

Suddenly, a gruff voice boomed, “Hold on there, kiddo! What do you think you’re doing? Why waste good food?”

It was Andy, the senior waiter, his face a permanent scowl. He eyed the plate, then the unsuspecting customer, a smirk twisting his lips.

“Waste not, want not!” he rasped, snatching the plate from Louise. “Serve it to him!”

Louise’s stomach lurched. “We can’t serve that, Mr. Miller!” she protested. “It’s cold and…”

“Relax,” Andy interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “New guy in town, probably won’t know the difference.”

“But it’s wrong!” Louise’s voice rose, panic creeping in. “What if he complains?”

Andy threw back his head and laughed, drawing unwanted attention. “Come on, Louise,” he said. “He’s just a tourist. Doesn’t speak a word of English. Easy pickings, you gotta admit.”

Louise’s jaw clenched. Serving leftover food violated everything she believed in. But Andy, her only advocate at this point, was pressuring her, and the fear of losing her job was a cold, heavy weight in her gut.

“But I can’t! I can’t serve garbage to him. That’s against the rules!” she said.

“Look at it this way: you’re saving food from going to waste,” Andy said.

“If you don’t follow my rules, I can get you kicked out. I can say you stole the steak and no one will know it went in the bin.”

Shame burned in Louise’s cheeks. With trembling hands, she picked up the tray and served it to Higashi.

“This isn’t what I ordered,” Higashi said, pointing at the food. “No, I don’t want this.”

Before Louise could respond, Andy appeared beside the table, his face darkening.

“What’s going on here?” he snapped. Ignoring Louise’s pleading look, he snatched the plate from her grasp and slammed it back down.

“Hold on a second, Jackie Chan,” he barked at Higashi. “This is your order, right? Eat it!”

“Mr. Miller, stop it!” Louise blurted. “He’s a customer! Be respectful!”

Ignoring her, Andy continued to harass Higashi with racist remarks, demanding he eat the cold steak. Higashi, bewildered and hurt, rose from his chair, clearly wanting to leave.

But just as he turned, a wad of cash slipped from his wallet, revealing hundreds of dollars. He put a hundred dollars on the table and began to leave. In that moment, greed flickered in Andy’s eyes. He lunged forward, blocking Higashi’s exit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there!” he said, his voice oily now. “That’s… that’s a lot of dough you got there, buddy!”

Louise watched, her stomach churning, as Andy spun a web of lies to keep Higashi and his money. He promised a better meal and a luxurious experience, but Louise knew it was all a ruse. Andy shoved the hundred-dollar bill into Louise’s hand, forcing her to participate in his charade.

The situation was spiraling out of control. Louise had to find a way to protect Higashi, her job, and her own morals. But with Andy’s desperation mounting, she wasn’t sure what move to make next.

***

Relief washed over Higashi’s face as he surveyed the steaming dishes Andy presented. The aroma of grilled salmon and teriyaki chicken filled the air, a far cry from the cold, reheated steak. A bottle of sake, its elegant label speaking of his homeland, completed the unexpected feast.

“Free for our esteemed guest!” Andy declared, his voice dripping with false cheer. “A token of our appreciation!”

Higashi blinked. “Free?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” Andy boomed. “Not a penny out of your pocket, my friend.”

As Andy grabbed a delicate sake cup to pour, his hand twitched, sending a splash of rice wine spraying across Higashi’s pristine overcoat.

“Oh, no!” Andy exclaimed, his face crumpling in mock apology. “Terribly sorry, my friend. Don’t you worry, I’ll have this cleaned in a jiffy. We have top-notch dry cleaning services here.”

He reached for the coat, but Higashi recoiled, clutching the garment tightly.

“No… okay,” he stammered. “It… is okay! Okay!”

“We can’t have you walking around with a stained garment. Come on, let me take care of this,” Andy insisted.

He lunged for the overcoat again, his movements aggressive. Seeing the struggle, Louise intervened.

“Mr. Miller, stop it!” she blurted. “The coat will dry on its own.”

“Shut up, girl!” Andy hissed. “This is none of your concern!”

Before Louise could react further, Andy snatched the coat from Higashi’s grasp and disappeared through a swinging door marked “Staff Only.” Higashi stared after him, his confusion turning into anxiety.

Louise felt a knot of dread tighten in her stomach. Without hesitating, she excused herself from the table and raced after him.

Inside the room, Andy emptied the pockets of Higashi’s overcoat. He was shocked as he pulled out wads of cash from it.

“What are you doing?” Louise confronted him. “This is illegal. You can’t steal his money!”

“Go outside!” Andy shouted.

“And don’t worry about this. Everything’s under control. You know this money can change our lives.”

“No, Mr. Miller. You should put that money back,” Louise said.

“Are you serious? This is your chance to change your life, Louise!” Andy blurted. “Come on, take this money!”

“No, I won’t!” Louise protested.

“He won’t even know we took this money from him. That Samurai Jack has a lot of money. He’s a rich guy. A few missing bucks won’t make a difference. Trust me, Louise. Take this money!” Andy said, handing a wad of bills to Louise.

Feeling pressured, she took the money from him. “Okay, I’ll take it,” she said.

“That’s the spirit!” Andy cheered. “Just make sure he finishes his meal soon, okay? I’ll go get this overcoat fixed.”

Once Andy left the staff room, Louise immediately pulled a hairpin out of her hair and opened Andy’s locker. She couldn’t let him keep the stolen money. She wanted to return all of Higashi’s money to back to him.

***

“Excuse me, sir?” Louise blurted out as she bolted to the table. Then, she took a deep breath and held out the wads of cash. “Please take this. It’s your money. Take it.”

“I can’t understand,” he said. “Sorry.”

“This is your money. Your. Money,” she said, pointing toward him. “You were robbed. My senior waiter, Mr. Miller… he took your money. I’m giving it back to you.”

Higashi stared at her, his expression unreadable. The language barrier loomed large, a frustrating wall that separated them.

Instead of giving up, Louise took out her phone and used a translator app to convey her message. Higashi was shocked when he understood what had happened.

Suddenly, the restaurant door swung open with a bang, shattering the tense silence. A police officer walked in with Andy in tow. Andy, practically bouncing with glee, pointed at Louise and Higashi.

“There they are, officer!” he declared, voice booming. “The culprits! They stole my money. I have proof!”

Louise’s heart lurched in her chest.

“No, officer, it’s not true!” she stammered. “He’s the one who’s been stealing!”

Before she could explain, Andy whipped out his phone, a sly smile spreading across his face. He tapped the screen, and a video flickered to life.

It showed Louise, her back to the camera, stuffing money into her purse from a locker. The blood drained from Louise’s face.

“She took out money from my locker and gave it to this man!” Andy lied. “She’s a criminal!”

“It’s not what it looks like, officer!” she cried, her voice shaking.

The officer watched the video impassively. When it ended, he turned to Louise. “Please step aside. You need to answer some questions.”

“No, officer,” Higashi said, his voice steady. “Not her. You should interrogate that man.”

He turned towards Andy, his eyes blazing with quiet anger. “Because he’s the real thief, not us!”

It turned out Higashi could communicate in English perfectly. All this while, he understood what Andy said earlier in the restaurant.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m a journalist, here to write about this very restaurant.”

“I can also prove the money belongs to me. I can prove Andy stole it from me,” he said. “My cash is marked blue. You just need to soak it in water to see the mark. Would you bother giving me one of the bills that you stole?”

“I didn’t steal anything!” Andy protested, his voice trembling. He knew he was in trouble.

“Do as he says!” the officer told Andy.

Once Andy handed one of the bills to Higashi, he quickly soaked it in water, revealing a blue mark. “See, officer. This is what I was talking about.”

At that point, the officer was convinced Higashi was not at fault.

“And what about this waitress? This video shows she’s stealing money.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Louise said. “Please come with me so I can show you the entire CCTV footage of the staff room. Mr. Miller entered before me to steal the money from Higashi’s overcoat. I just wanted to return it to our customer.”

In no time, it was clear that Andy was the culprit. The officer quickly put handcuffs on Andy’s wrists and took him outside the restaurant.

“Thank you so much, sir!” Louise thanked Higashi.

“Thank you for your bravery and honesty, Louise,” Higashi smiled. “I have an offer for you.”

“If you’re ever looking for a job, I might have a position for you in our New York office,” he continued. “You’re an honest employee and our company needs people like you. You may contact me or visit our website if you’re interested.” He handed his business card to Louise.

“Thank you. This means a lot to me,” Louise said.

“Consider it a reward for your bravery!” Higashi winked. “You deserve it!”

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A disabled woman in a wheelchair enters an elite restaurant to enjoy a nice, warm meal. However, she is refused service and is kicked out. When she somehow manages to get inside again and starts eating, the rude staff decide to ruin her dinner. But fate has other plans for this cunning duo. Here’s the full story.

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