My Husband and His Mom Got Rid of My Cat While I Was Away — but I Never Expected My Neighbor to Help Me Get Revenge

When I returned from a short trip, I discovered that my mother-in-law had decided to “free” me from my beloved cat, Benji. But thanks to my neighbor’s quick thinking and some dirt from the past, I not only got my cat back but also found the strength to free myself from a useless husband.

Benji wasn’t just a pet to me. He was my heart, my comfort, my family. I rescued him as a kitten when I was drowning in grief after losing my father. My husband, John, never understood. He called my bond with Benji “weird.”

A woman smiling and holding a white cat while a man stands in the background with crossed arms | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling and holding a white cat while a man stands in the background with crossed arms | Source: Midjourney

But I never imagined he and his mother, Carol, would take things this far.

The house felt wrong the moment I walked in after my weekend trip with my girlfriends. The usual patter of paws across hardwood floors was missing.

Some people believed cats weren’t as attached to their owners as dogs, but Benji could prove them all wrong. He always greeted me.

A white cat sitting on a shelf | Source: Pexels

A white cat sitting on a shelf | Source: Pexels

But on this day, instead of his meows, I got silence. And even worse, I could detect the faint scent of my mother-in-law’s overpowering perfume lingering in the air.

I walked further into the house and saw John sprawled on the couch, distracted by his phone.

“Where’s Benji?” I wondered.

“No idea. Maybe he ran off,” he replied with a shrug.

A man sitting on a sofa holding a phone and looking up | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting on a sofa holding a phone and looking up | Source: Midjourney

The casual tone in his voice set off my alarm bells. Benji never “ran off.” He was an indoor cat who got nervous just looking at the backyard through the window.

That’s when I noticed Carol sitting at the dining table with a smug smile playing on her thin lips as she sipped her coffee.

“Where is my cat?” I demanded, walking toward her.

A woman in a living room looks angry | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a living room looks angry | Source: Midjourney

Carol set down the mug with deliberate slowness. “Well…” she began. “I used your time away to do what was necessary. Finally, you’re free from that animal.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were way too obsessed with that disgusting fur ball to focus on what really matters. It’s time to start a family,” she continued. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

An older woman with an impassive face sitting at a dining table | Source: Midjourney

An older woman with an impassive face sitting at a dining table | Source: Midjourney

Fire. Pure, hot, and raging fire coursed through my blood as I walked closer to the dining table. My hands clutched the back of a chair carefully, with all the restraint I could muster.

“What did you do with him?” I asked slowly.

“Now, Frances, don’t get dramatic,” Carol sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re 32, for heaven’s sake. Time to grow up. No more time or money spent on pet food, toys, or whatever.”

A kitten looking at a toy | Source: Pexels

A kitten looking at a toy | Source: Pexels

I turned to John, who hadn’t moved from his position on the couch. “You let this happen and you LIED to me?!”

He shrugged again, still not looking up. “I think my mother’s right. It’s time to move on.”

“Move on from what?” My voice cracked. “Having something in my life that actually brings me joy? Unlike this marriage?”

That got his attention. John finally looked up, his face flushing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A man sitting on a couch with his mouth open looking offended | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting on a couch with his mouth open looking offended | Source: Midjourney

“It means you’ve never supported anything that matters to me. Not once. You and your mother just decide what’s best for my life without ever asking what I want.”

Carol stood up, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “We decide what’s best because you clearly can’t make good decisions for yourself. Look at you now, throwing a tantrum over a cat when you should be focusing on starting a family.”

An older woman standing next to a table gesturing with her hands | Source: Midjourney

An older woman standing next to a table gesturing with her hands | Source: Midjourney

“You mean a family like this one?” I laughed, the sound harsh and foreign to my ears. “Where my husband can’t make a single decision without consulting his mommy first? And he decides to lie to me just to please you?”

At that moment, I wanted to tell her that my husband lied to her, too, about many things. But I held my tongue. I needed to recover Benji first.

“Now you’re just being hysterical,” Carol crossed her arms. “This is exactly why we had to take matters into our own hands.”

“Tell me where he is.” I stepped closer to Carol. “Now.”

A woman looking angry and mouthing something in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking angry and mouthing something in a living room | Source: Midjourney

“Or what?” Carol smiled, but I caught the slight uncertainty in her eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

Before I could answer, movement from the window caught my eye. My neighbor Lisa was in my yard, waving urgently. When I met her gaze, she pointed toward her house and mouthed something.

Somehow, only I noticed her.

“I’ll be right back,” I managed to say to Carol through clenched teeth, then added, “And when I return, I want to know exactly what you did with my cat.”

Stepping outside, I felt the cool spring air against my flushed face. Lisa hurried over, and we crossed the street to stand on her lawn. It was then that I noticed the phone in her hand.

Two women talking on the front lawn of a house | Source: Midjourney

Two women talking on the front lawn of a house | Source: Midjourney

“I saw your mother-in-law with Benji yesterday,” she said, breathless. “You might want to see this.”

She held out her phone, open to Facebook, and my blood ran cold at the post. There was Benji, his distinctive white fur and bright green collar unmistakable, cradled in the arms of Samantha.

That woman made my life hell in high school, but ironically, she reinvented herself years later as a lifestyle and fitness influencer who spread positivity. Unfortunately, thousands of people fell for her act, and she now lived fully off social media.

A woman recording herself while wearing sporty clothes and using a floor exercise mat | Source: Pexels

A woman recording herself while wearing sporty clothes and using a floor exercise mat | Source: Pexels

But this particular post was the only thing that mattered to me. The caption read: “Meet the newest addition to the family! Sometimes the perfect pet just falls into your lap. #blessed #newcatmom”

“That’s not all,” Lisa said, swiping to a video. “I was watering my plants yesterday morning when I saw your mother-in-law carrying Benji’s carrier to her car. Something felt off, so I just got in my truck and followed her. I decided to record just in case.”

An older woman hurrying along, carrying a cat in a basket | Source: Midjourney

An older woman hurrying along, carrying a cat in a basket | Source: Midjourney

The video, which was obviously shot from the inside of Lisa’s truck, showed Carol’s sedan pulling up to a modern townhouse.

Carol emerged with Benji’s carrier, walked up to the front door, and handed my pet over to Samantha. My mother-in-law had a big smile on her face as she got back into her sedan and drove off.

The video ended there.

“I’m so sorry, Frances,” Lisa said. “I should have tried to stop her.”

“No,” I said, squeezing her arm. “You did exactly the right thing. This is perfect.”

Two women talking on the front lawn of a house, one holding a phone, both looking worried | Source: Midjourney

Two women talking on the front lawn of a house, one holding a phone, both looking worried | Source: Midjourney

“Want me to come with you to confront her?”

I shook my head. “No, just send me the video. I need to do this alone. But thank you. For everything.”

I crossed the street and went back inside. Carol had moved next to John on the couch, and they were in a deep, quiet conversation.

They looked up when I entered, and I felt the urge to do something unpleasant to my mother-in-law. This feeling only intensified when she began speaking.

A man and his mother sitting on a couch looking up with upset expressions | Source: Midjourney

A man and his mother sitting on a couch looking up with upset expressions | Source: Midjourney

“If you’re done with your little drama,” she said.

“Samantha?” I cut her off. “Really? That’s who you gave my cat to?”

Carol’s eyes widened slightly before she caught herself. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Save it. I have a video of you stealing my cat and giving it to her. What was the plan here? You just happened to choose my high school bully to give Benji to? Was that supposed to be some kind of twisted punishment?”

A girl in a classroom being pointed at by other classmates | Source: Pexels

A girl in a classroom being pointed at by other classmates | Source: Pexels

John stood up. “Frances, calm down. Mom was just trying to help.”

“Help who?” I asked. “Help her maintain control over our marriage? Help Samantha get more social media followers with a cute new pet?”

“This is ridiculous,” Carol snapped. “John, tell her she’s being ridiculous.”

But I was already grabbing my car keys. “I’m going to get my cat. When I get back, I want you both gone.”

***

Samantha’s townhouse sat in an upscale development across town. Each knock on her door felt like a hammer to my racing heart.

Several townhouses | Source: Pexels

Several townhouses | Source: Pexels

Two minutes later, the door swung open. My bully stood there in yoga pants and a crop top, and her surprised expression quickly morphed into a sneer.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘Frances, no Chances,’” she said, blocking the doorway. “You never had friends or boyfriends. Isn’t that why you had to marry that boring accountant?”

She wasn’t entirely wrong. I had been a loner for most of my life. My family was my only haven, which is why I took the death of my father so horribly. My mom and sister were still there, but it was Benji who ultimately saved me.

A woman looking sad and distraught in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking sad and distraught in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

John had been my first everything.

Now I could understand the importance of dating, learning from mistakes, and experiencing different relationships.

If I had any experience, I probably wouldn’t have chosen him or taken all his mistakes and troubles in stride, thinking I was being a good wife.

“Where’s my cat?” I asked, ignoring her jabs and focusing on what mattered.

“You mean my new cat?” Samantha’s eyebrows rose. “He was a gift. Totally legal. No backsies.”

A woman in black exercise clothes smirking outside her townhouse door | Source: Midjourney

A woman in black exercise clothes smirking outside her townhouse door | Source: Midjourney

“A gift from someone who had no right to give him away. That’s theft.”

She laughed. “Please. Who’s going to believe you? It’s just a cat. Besides, he’s much better off here. Have you seen how many followers I have? People love me. He’ll be famous.”

“The police might be interested in this video of Carol stealing and giving away my property, especially because Benji is registered to me in his microchip.”

A woman standing on a lawn looking angry | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing on a lawn looking angry | Source: Midjourney

Samantha’s smile faltered slightly. “Please, you won’t call the police.”

“Oh, I’ll do more than just call the police,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Remember high school, Samantha? Remember how you made my life miserable? You laughed at me every day for just wanting to be left alone. And what about my homecoming dress? The one you and your bully friends ripped to shreds?”

A group of friends dressed for a school dance | Source: Unsplash

A group of friends dressed for a school dance | Source: Unsplash

I pulled up an old photo I’d kept all these years. “I have proof of what you did with that dress. And guess what? I can make a video. A very detailed video. About all of it. And post it to every platform. I’m sure it’ll go viral. After all, so many people love you.”

The color drained from Samantha’s face. Her carefully crafted influencer image trembled before my eyes.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her bravado crumbling. “Please don’t. Just… take the cat.”

She disappeared inside and returned with Benji, who looked relieved to see me. “Please, just don’t post anything.”

A woman in exercise clothes outside a townhouse, holding a white cat | Source: Midjourney

A woman in exercise clothes outside a townhouse, holding a white cat | Source: Midjourney

I gathered Benji into my arms, feeling his purr. It gave me comfort, but also, the strength to get in my car and go home.

John and Carol were still there when I walked in with my cat secure in my arms.

Carol jumped up from the table. “How dare you—” she started.

“No,” I cut her off. “How dare you. Both of you. I thought I told you to get out of my house.”

“Frances, you’re being ridiculous,” John said.

A man sitting on a couch, looking up worriedly | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting on a couch, looking up worriedly | Source: Midjourney

“I want a divorce.”

Carol gasped. “You ungrateful—”

“I have video evidence of you stealing my cat,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Leave now, or I’m calling the police.”

“You can’t do that!” Carol insisted. “And this is my son’s house, too!”

“It’s not,” I replied and stared at my husband. “Didn’t he tell you? He might be an accountant, but he has terrible credit. I had to sign the loan for this house on my own. It’s just my name on the deed.”

A woman holding keys to a house | Source: Unsplash

A woman holding keys to a house | Source: Unsplash

“What?” Carol turned to her son with wide eyes.

“I would also advise on not helping him so much,” I continued. “He actually spends all you give him playing poker with his buddies.”

“Frances!” John shouted, outraged, finally getting up from the couch.

“Leave now, or I might tell your mom that it’s not just poker,” I added. “There’s a little club next to the airport…”

The entrance to a nightclub | Source: Unsplash

The entrance to a nightclub | Source: Unsplash

“Stop!” he urged, one hand up. “We’re leaving.”

John pulled his mother out, while she bickered the entire time.

At last, the door clicked shut behind them, and the house fell quiet again.

The scent of Carol’s perfume would soon drift away forever, and the evidence of John’s uselessness as a husband would soon be gone, too.

Only Benji’s heavenly smell would remain, along with the promise of a better future.

“With that thought,” I muttered, pulling out my phone and calling my lawyer. After that, I was buying Lisa something special.

A woman standing in a living room, holding a cat and a phone, smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in a living room, holding a cat and a phone, smiling | Source: Midjourney

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.

My Family Turned Against Me When I Became a Private Detective, but a Teen Girl’s Case Changed Everything — Story of the Day

My family turned their backs on me when I left journalism to become a private detective. They saw it as a disgrace, and I started to wonder if they were right. No clients, no money, just regrets. But then a teenage girl walked into my office, searching for her mother—and her case changed everything.

I was sitting in my small, dimly lit office, sorting through the week’s mail. Bills, bills, bills, advertisements, more bills. The usual.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I let out a heavy sigh and set the letters aside, covering my face with my hands.

I used to be a journalist—a successful one, I must say—but I always felt like it wasn’t enough.

Stories were always unfinished, truths half-exposed, and justice left waiting. So, at 42, I quit my job and decided to become a private detective.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

It was something that truly interested me, something I had always wanted to do.

My family didn’t support me. They tried to talk me out of it, but when they realized my mind was made up, they turned their backs on me.

My husband finally had a reason to leave me for a younger woman—one with shinier hair, fewer wrinkles, and, I assumed, fewer opinions.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

And my daughter? She cut me out of her life completely. She saw being a private detective as disgraceful—especially when compared to the prestige of journalism.

Of course, it hurt. But the longer I worked as a private detective, the more I started to wonder if they had been right.

I hadn’t had a new client in nearly three months, and I had plenty of debt. People didn’t believe in a female private investigator.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Men were assumed to be better at solving cases—stronger, sharper, tougher. As if intuition, patience, and persistence didn’t count.

Suddenly, even surprisingly, I heard a hesitant knock at the door. I straightened up, quickly smoothing my hair and shoving the pile of bills into a drawer.

“Come in!” I called out.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The doorknob turned slowly, and the door creaked open. A girl, about fifteen, stepped inside.

She hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her clothes were too small—cheap, second-hand, sleeves of her sweater jagged as if they’d been cut off.

“How can I help you?” I asked, motioning to the chair across from my desk.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She sat down carefully, pulling her sleeves over her hands, her long, unkempt hair kept falling into her face. She brushed it away absently, over and over.

One thing was clear—she didn’t have a mother. I had taught my daughter how to braid her hair when she was six. This girl had no idea what to do with hers.

“My name is Emily,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m an orphan. I need your help to find my mother.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I studied her face. She looked nervous, but her eyes held something else—determination.

“She gave you up?” I asked.

Emily nodded. “Yes. I don’t know anything about her. Not her name, not what she looks like. Nothing.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She swallowed hard. “I’m fifteen now. No one is going to adopt me at this point. But I want to find her. I just want to see her. I need to understand why she left me.”

Her words stung. No child should feel unwanted. No child should wonder why they weren’t enough.

“I’ll need something to go on,” I said, reaching for my notebook.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Emily sat up straighter. “I was born in this town. I’ve never moved, never been sent anywhere else.” She took a breath. “My birthday is February 15, 2009.”

I jotted it down.

“Is that enough?” she asked, her fingers gripping the edge of her sweater.

“I’ll do everything I can,” I promised.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She hesitated, then pulled a few crumpled bills from her pocket. “I have some money, but not much.”

It wasn’t even close to what I needed, but that didn’t matter.

“If I find her, then you can pay me,” I said.

Her lips trembled. “Thank you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She stood to leave.

“Wait. How can I find you?” I asked.

She scribbled an address and handed it to me. “My foster home. I’ll be there.”

I nodded, and she walked out.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, I wasted no time. It had been a long time since I had worked on a real case.

Even though I knew I wouldn’t make any money from this one—I couldn’t, in good conscience, take money from an orphan—it still felt good to have a purpose.

The first place I went was the hospital. Our town had only one, which made things easier.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

If Emily’s mother had given birth there, the records would be somewhere inside.

One advantage of my former job was that I had connections everywhere. The hospital was no exception.

I knew exactly who to talk to—Camilla. She had been a nurse for years, and we had met back when I was covering a story about harassment in hospitals.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She had been a source then. Since that day, she’d been a friend. As soon as she spotted me, she put down her clipboard and grinned.

“Sara!” she said, pulling me into a quick hug. “What brings you here? Please don’t say trouble.”

“I need your help,” I said, leaning in slightly.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Camilla raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do. You never just stop by to visit an old friend, do you?”

I crossed my arms. “You were literally at my house for dinner last week.”

She smirked. “Fine. What do you need?”

“Birth records. February 15, 2009.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She blinked. “That’s specific. Should I be worried?”

“Nothing illegal. I just need to find a name.”

Camilla folded her arms. “That’s doable, but make it fast.”

I hesitated. “The baby was given up, probably in secret.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her expression changed. “Sara, you know I can’t just hand you confidential records.”

“Please,” I said. “Just a quick look. No one will even notice.”

She studied me, then sighed. “You have ten minutes.”

I smiled. “Thank you. I owe you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She rolled her eyes. “You owe me for life.”

She led me through a narrow hallway to the hospital archives. The air smelled of dust and old paper.

Camilla pulled out a thick folder labeled 2009 – Abandoned Newborns and handed it to me.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Be quick,” she whispered.

I flipped through the pages, my fingers trembling. February 15. My eyes locked on the mother’s name. My breath caught.

No. This couldn’t be real.

I shoved the file back and hurried out.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Camilla stood by the door. “Sara, you’re as pale as a ghost. What happened?”

“I’ll explain later,” I muttered, pushing past her. I needed air.

I stood outside a house I had never seen before. The air felt heavy, pressing down on me.

Emily’s case had become the hardest of my career. Too personal. Too close.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I stared at the door. My hands felt numb. I couldn’t bring myself to ring the bell.

I took a breath and reached for the doorbell. My hand hovered over it. I could still turn around, pretend I never came. But that wasn’t an option. Not for Emily.

I pressed the button. The chime echoed inside. Footsteps approached.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The door opened, and I saw her.

Her face paled. Her lips parted in shock. “Mom?”

I swallowed hard. My throat felt tight. “Hi.”

Meredith blinked. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear—I don’t want to see you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

I met her gaze. “I wouldn’t have come if this were about me.”

Her eyes darkened. “Then why are you here?”

I took a deep breath. “For your daughter.”

The color drained from her face. Her whole body tensed. “How… how did you—” She couldn’t finish.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her breath hitched. Tears filled her eyes. Then, without a word, she stepped aside and let me in.

The kitchen was small but neat. She moved stiffly, as if her body wasn’t sure what to do. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

I stayed standing for a moment, then sat across from her. Silence filled the space between us.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Her name is Emily, if you’re wondering,” I said. “No one ever adopted her. She’s been living with foster families. She came to me to find her mother, but I never imagined—”

Meredith squeezed her hands together. “Please stop,” she whispered.

I waited.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I have regretted it my whole life,” she said, her voice breaking. “I tried to forget. I told myself it was the best thing. That she’d have a better life without me. And now you show up out of nowhere to remind me what a terrible person I am.”

“You’re not terrible. You were a child yourself when she was born. I just don’t understand how you hid it. How did your father and I not know?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I wore loose clothes. My belly wasn’t that big. And I planned to give birth in another town, but you and Dad went abroad for your work right before it happened. So it all worked out,” she said.

“Tell her I couldn’t be found,” Meredith said suddenly.

“Why?” I asked. “Meredith, I’m a mother too. I know what it’s like to lose a child. Nothing is more painful than that.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She lowered her gaze. Her voice trembled. “How can I face her? She’ll hate me.”

I let her words hang in the air. “Maybe,” I admitted. “But even so, she wanted to find you. That means something.”

Meredith wiped at her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want me?”

“She wants answers. She wants to know where she came from. You owe her that.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She looked away. I knew she resented me. But I reminded myself—this wasn’t about us. It was about Emily.

“I have her address,” I said. “Do you want to see her?”

Meredith hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

We drove in silence. The streetlights flickered as we passed. When we reached the house, Meredith didn’t move. Her fingers dug into her lap.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

I shook my head. “This is between you two.”

She looked down. Her voice broke. “Mom… I regret cutting you out. I was ashamed.”

I turned to her. “You are my daughter. No matter what, I will always love you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her face crumpled, and she reached for me. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her the way I had when she was little.

“What you’re doing is important,” she whispered. “People like Emily need you.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Then she stepped out, walked to the door, and knocked.

A moment later, Emily appeared. They stared at each other. Then Meredith took a breath. Emily took a step forward.

They talked. They cried. And then Emily wrapped her arms around her mother.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

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: My future brother-in-law was always a problem—rude, arrogant, and always pushing boundaries. But on my wedding day, he crossed a line we could never forgive. He humiliated me in front of everyone, turning my perfect day into a nightmare. That was the last straw, and my fiancé finally had enough.

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.

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