I looked around. The house was eerily quiet. It wasn’t the cozy place I was used to, filled with the smell of fresh coffee or Sharon’s humming in the kitchen. I pulled out my phone and texted Frank, just to check.
“Hey, I’m here at the house. Where are you guys?”
But today, the key was in the lock.
His response came back almost immediately. “Out with the guys. Sharon’s resting. You can head home if you want.”
Resting? That didn’t sit right with me. Sharon was always the one who jumped up to greet us, even if we’d been there the day before. And resting in the middle of the day? It wasn’t like her at all.
A weird feeling crept into my stomach. I slowly made my way through the house, my voice echoing as I called her name.
“Sharon? Are you okay?”
Still nothing. That’s when I heard a faint tapping sound.
I froze. It was coming from upstairs, somewhere near the attic. My heart started to race as I climbed the stairs. The tapping continued, steady and strange. When I reached the attic door, I stopped cold.
It was always locked. Frank had made it clear — nobody went into the attic. Not even Sharon. It was his space, some kind of personal workshop or storage room, I guessed.
But today, the key was in the lock.
I swallowed hard, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Something about this felt wrong. “Sharon?” I called again, this time my voice barely above a whisper.
No answer, but the tapping stopped.
I hesitated for a moment before turning the key and pushing the door open. And there she was. Sharon, sitting in an old wooden chair in the dim light, looking as though she hadn’t moved in hours. Her usually bright face seemed worn, her smile weak.
“Ruth,” she whispered, startled by my appearance, her voice trembling. “You’re here.”
I rushed over, setting the cookies aside and helping her up. “Sharon, what’s going on? Why are you up here?” My heart was pounding, every instinct telling me that something wasn’t right.
Her eyes darted toward the door, and she opened her mouth to speak, but the words that followed made my blood run cold.
“I uhhh… Frank… locked me in here,” she uttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
I blinked, shaking my head. “What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why would he do that?”
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I reorganized his man cave while he was out. It was getting messy, and I thought I’d surprise him. You know how he gets about his space, but I didn’t think it would upset him this much.”
Sharon let out a weak, forced laugh, but there was no real humor behind it. “When he came home, he lost it. He said if I loved ‘messing with his stuff’ so much, I could spend time up here too. Then he locked the door and told me to ‘think about what I’d done.’”
I was dumbfounded. This wasn’t just Frank getting upset over a room. He locked her up like she was a child being punished. I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Sharon, that’s insane,” I finally said, my voice shaky from the anger building inside me. “You’re his wife, not some kid who broke a rule. He can’t just lock you up because you reorganized his stuff!”
Sharon looked away, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. “He didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered. “He was just angry. You know how he gets.”
I was floored. She said it so calmly, with such resignation, as if this were completely normal. My throat tightened with frustration. I knew Frank could be controlling, but this? This was abuse.
“We’re leaving,” I said, standing up, my voice firm. “You’re not staying here, not with him acting like this.”
Sharon glanced toward the attic door, clearly nervous. “Ruth, maybe I should just go downstairs and apologize. It’s my fault for touching his things. I—”
“Apologize?!” I cut her off, shaking my head. “You did nothing wrong. You don’t deserve to be locked up like this! You’re coming with me, Sharon, and we’ll figure out what to do from there.”
She hesitated, her hands trembling slightly. “But what if he gets angrier? I don’t want to make things worse.”
“He doesn’t get to decide how you live your life, Sharon,” I said, my voice softening. “This isn’t about him anymore. It’s about you. You don’t have to keep tiptoeing around him like this.”
She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. But then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”
We didn’t waste any time. I helped Sharon pack a small bag with a few of her things. She was nervous the whole time, glancing at the door like Frank might burst in any second. But as soon as we stepped outside, I could see her shoulders relax a little like she was finally starting to breathe again.
As we drove back to my house, I kept glancing over at her. She looked exhausted, like she’d been carrying this emotional baggage for years, and was only just now setting it down.
“Are you okay?” I asked, breaking the silence.
She gave me a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think so. I don’t really know what’s next.”
“Whatever it is,” I said, “you don’t have to face it alone.”
Later that evening, after I helped Sharon settle into the guest room, my phone started buzzing on the table. Frank’s name flashed on the screen.
I nodded and ignored the call. A few minutes later, the messages started coming in.
“Where’s Sharon? Bring her back now! She’s my wife, and she belongs here with me.”
I rolled my eyes and put the phone down, trying to keep my anger in check. But it was getting harder by the second. When Bryce came home from work, I pulled him aside, trying to explain everything as calmly as I could.
“She was locked in the attic, Bryce,” I said quietly, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to stay composed. “Frank… he just left her there.”
Bryce’s face darkened. “What the hell?” he muttered, his fists clenching. “Are you serious?”
I nodded, watching as his anger grew. “She’s in the guest room now, but Frank keeps calling, demanding I send her back.”
Bryce didn’t waste any time. He grabbed his phone and dialed his father’s number, pacing back and forth in the living room as it rang.
I could hear Frank’s voice through the speaker as soon as he picked up.
“Where’s your mother? She needs to come back home. I’m not done teaching her—”
“Teaching her what, Dad?” Bryce cut him off, his voice shaking with anger. “What lesson are you trying to teach by locking her in the attic like a prisoner? You’re out of your mind!”
Frank’s voice dropped, trying to explain, trying to justify. “It wasn’t like that, son. She messed with my things. She needed to—”
“I don’t care if she moved every single thing you own!” Bryce shouted, his face red with fury. “You don’t lock her up. That’s not how you treat someone, especially your wife!”
Frank tried to talk over him, but Bryce wasn’t having it. “You’re lucky I’m not coming over there right now because if I did, I don’t think it’d end well for you.”
He hung up the phone and let out a frustrated sigh, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe he did this,” he muttered. “I never thought he’d go this far.”
I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “You did the right thing, standing up to him.”
Bryce shook his head. “It shouldn’t have to be like this, Ruth. I shouldn’t have to stand up to my own father.”
The next morning, while Bryce was at work, Frank showed up at our door. His face was red, and he was fuming. “Where is she?” he demanded. “She needs to come back. She has responsibilities, and I’m not done teaching her a lesson.”
I crossed my arms, standing firm. “She’s not coming back, Frank. What you did was wrong, and you know it. You locked her in the attic like she was a child. That’s not okay.”
Behind me, Sharon appeared in the hallway, her voice soft but steady. “I’m not coming back, Frank.”
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean you’re not coming back? You don’t have a choice.”
“I do have a choice,” she said, stepping forward, her voice gaining strength. “I’m done being treated like a child, Frank. If my punishment for trying to help is being locked away, then maybe it’s time I make some changes.”
Frank tried to argue, but Sharon wasn’t backing down. “I’m not living like this anymore, Frank. I’m done.”
The look on Frank’s face was a mixture of disbelief and anger, but he knew it was over. He stormed off without another word, slamming the door behind him.
The relief I saw on Sharon’s face was indescribable. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was like she could finally breathe a little easier.
A few weeks later, Sharon decided to file for divorce. She moved into a small apartment near us and even started taking that painting class she’d always wanted to try. It was like she’d been given a second chance at life, and she wasn’t going to waste it.
Bryce stood by her every step of the way, offering support and encouragement. “You deserve better, Mom,” he told her. “You should’ve never had to put up with that.”
In the end, Frank lost more than just Sharon. He lost his son, too. But it was his own doing. He pushed too hard, and Bryce wasn’t willing to let it slide. Sharon, though — she was finally free. And that was worth everything.
What would you have done in my shoes? Let me know your thoughts!
My Dad Left Me When I Was 13 — Ten Years Later, I Saw Him on the Side of the Road Hitchhiking with a Little Girl
The man Mom and I loved to the core tore our hearts apart and abandoned us when I was 13. Ten years later, I pulled over for a hitchhiker, only to see my dad with a little girl by his side. The scars never faded. Will this new encounter heal them or deepen the wound?
The day my dad left, the world lost its color. I remember standing in our driveway, watching his car disappear around the corner. The rubber of his tires on the asphalt made a sound I’ll never forget, like hope being slowly crushed…
Silhouette of a sad girl | Source: Midjourney
“Dad!” I screamed, running after him. “Dad, come back!”
But he didn’t. He just… left. No explanation, no goodbye. Just gone.
I turned to look at my mom, Crystal. She stood in the doorway, her face brimming with shock and disbelief. “Mom?” I whispered, my voice small and scared.
She blinked, seeming to remember I was there. “Oh, Ellie, come here, baby.”
Distressed mother hugging her daughter | Source: Midjourney
I ran into her arms, burying my face in her shirt. It smelled like home, like safety. But even as she held me, I could feel her shaking.
“Why did he go, Mom?” I had asked, my words muffled against her. “Why did Dad leave us?”
She stroked my hair, her touch gentle but unsteady. “I don’t know, sweetie. I just don’t know.”
An upset girl with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
As we stood there, clinging to each other, I made a silent promise to be strong for her. I had to be.
“We’ll be okay, Mom,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. “We’ve got each other.”
She squeezed me tighter, and I felt a tear drop onto my head. “Yes, we do, Ellie. We always will.”
A desperate young girl crying | Source: Pixabay
Ten years passed in a blur of struggle and slow healing. Mom and I became a team, facing the world together. We had our rough patches. Times when the absence of my dad felt like a physical ache.
But we made it through. We had each other. It was enough. And then, in an instant, everything changed.
I was driving home from work on a busy highway one evening, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
The radio played softly, some pop song about lost love that I barely registered. My mind was on dinner plans and the pile of laundry waiting for me at home.
That’s when I saw them.
A man and a little girl, standing on the side of the highway, thumbs out. Something about the man’s posture, the way he stood protectively next to the girl, made my heart skip a beat. I slowed down, squinting through the windshield.
No. It couldn’t be.
A man standing with a little girl on the roadside | Source: Midjourney
I pulled over, my hands shaking as I put the car in park.
In the rearview mirror, I watched them approach. The little girl skipped along, holding the man’s hand and chattering away. AND THE MAN…?
My blood ran cold. It was HIM… my DAD.
A shocked young woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
He looked older, of course. His hair was grayer, his face more lined and exhausted. But there was no mistaking those eyes, the same eyes I saw every time I looked in the mirror.
I got out of the car on unsteady legs, my mouth dry. “Need a ride?” I called out, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
A startled young woman | Source: Midjourney
He turned, a grateful smile starting to form on his face. Then he saw me, and the smile vanished, replaced by shock and something that looked a lot like shame.
“Ellie?” he gasped, his eyes wide.
The little girl looked between us, confusion clear on her face. “Do you know her, Bill?” she asked.
Bill. Not Dad. Just… Bill. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I know her.”
A smiling girl looking up | Source: Pexels
The car ride was tense, filled with an awkward silence that seemed to suck all the air out of the vehicle.
I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I focused on the road ahead to avoid looking at the man in my passenger seat, the man who was supposed to be my father.
The man who had so easily abandoned his family. The man who had so heartlessly moved on, breaking our hearts while building a sand castle of his own.
The little girl hummed quietly in the backseat, oblivious to the emotional storm brewing in the front.
A young woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Tell me that’s not my sister,” I said, breaking the silence.
My dad flinched as if I’d struck him with an axe. He stared straight ahead, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
“Her name’s Sarah. She’s… she’s not your sister, Ellie. Not by blood.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But that didn’t make it any easier for me.
“Then who is she?”
Portrait of a sad senior man | Source: Midjourney
Dad sighed, his shoulders slumping as though he was carrying the whole world’s burden.
“She’s the daughter of someone I’ve been with for a few years,” he admitted. “Her mom… she left us a few months back. I’ve been doing my best to take care of Sarah. Moved here last month.”
The irony of his situation wasn’t lost on me. I let out a bitter laugh.
“Wow. So you know what it feels like now? To be left behind? To be abandoned by someone you love? Ever heard of the infamous saying, ‘What goes around comes around?!’”
A sad man’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
Dad’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. “I’ve made mistakes, Ellie. A lot of them. But I’m trying to make up for it, even if it’s too late for you and your mom.”
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “Do you have any idea what you did to us? How hard it was for us? For me? Can you imagine how kids at school teased and bullied me? How Mom struggled alone to raise me and play both Dad and Mom for me?”
In the rearview mirror, I saw Sarah’s confused face. She didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
A woman sitting in a car turning to her side | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry,” Dad whispered. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I am so, so sorry.”
“Sorry? You don’t stab a person in the heart and say sorry!”
“Ellie, please forgive me… I’m sorry. Really.”
I didn’t respond. What could I say? Sorry won’t erase ten years of absence, of wondering why I wasn’t enough to make him stay. Sorry won’t magically bring back the happiness that was once stolen from Mom and me.
A teary-eyed woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
As we neared the address he’d given me, Sarah spoke up from the backseat. “Are you Bill’s friend?”
I met her eyes in the mirror, seeing the curiosity there. For a moment, I considered telling her the truth. But looking at her hopeful face, I couldn’t bring myself to shatter her little world.
“Something like that,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “A forgotten friend.”
I pulled up to the curb, my hands shaking. The silence that had haunted me during the ride now felt suffocating.
A car outside a house | Source: Midjourney
My dad unbuckled his seatbelt, his movements slow and hesitant. He turned to face me, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with regret.
“Thank you for the ride, Ellie. I… I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know how sorry I am. For everything.”
I stared straight ahead, unable to look at him. My throat felt tight, choked with all the words I wanted to say but couldn’t.
A distressed senior man | Source: Midjourney
“Take care of her,” I finally whispered, nodding towards Sarah in the backseat. “Don’t screw this up like you did with us. It’s very easy to break someone’s heart and walk away. Don’t do that to her.”
He nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I will. I promise.”
As he got out of the car, Sarah leaned forward. “Thank you for the ride, Miss Ellie,” she said brightly. “It was nice to meet you!”
A young girl smiling | Source: Pexels
I turned to her, managing a small smile. “It was nice to meet you too, Sarah. Take care of yourself, okay?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I will! Bye!”
I watched as they walked away, Sarah’s small hand in my dad’s larger one. They looked like a normal father and daughter, heading home after a long day.
But I knew the complicated truth that lay beneath that simple illusion.
Silhouette of a man and a little girl approaching their house | Source: Midjourney
As they disappeared from view, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. For years, I had carried the pain of my father’s abandonment, letting it shape my life and my relationships.
But seeing him now, I realized something important: I didn’t need his approval or his love to be whole.
I started the car, wiping away a stray tear. The sun had set completely now, the sky a deep, velvety blue. As I drove away, a warm, comforting feeling seeped into my heart. I had my own life to live, and I wasn’t going to let the past define me anymore.
A concerned young woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
My phone buzzed with a text from my mom, “Everything okay, honey? You’re usually home by now.”
I smiled, feeling a rush of love for the woman who had been both mother and father to me. “On my way, Mom,” I typed back. “I love you.”
As I hit send, I realized that sometimes, the family you choose is more important than the one you’re born into. And I had chosen well. I don’t need a father to shield or shower me with affection. I have the most powerful force in my universe: MY MOTHER.
A woman driving a car at night | Source: Unsplash
Here’s another story: I plotted a delicious revenge my fiancé deserved for cheating on me with his ex in a spa resort.
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.
Leave a Reply