My husband helped me raise my daughters, although he was not their biological father. In the end, he made a huge decision on his own that changed my life and ruined everything.
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Years ago, I met Nicholas during the hardest time of my life. I was a single mother and had two daughters to feed. But we fell in love and got married in less than a year. We also moved into the most beautiful home I could imagine.
Nicholas had been divorced in the past and had a son he barely spoke to, Nick Jr. His ex-wife did everything in her power to stop Nicholas from seeing the kid. He hated her attitude and missed his son.
We moved into a beautiful house after our wedding. | Source: Shutterstock
Therefore, he took on a fatherly role with my daughters and became the best dad they ever had. Eventually, they stopped calling him “stepfather.” He was just their dad. But that was more than 20 years ago. My daughters grew up and now have families of their own.
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Luckily, my eldest, Darlene, gave us two grandchildren. Nicholas adored those boys, and they visited often. They came for lunch one Sunday, and I wanted to talk to Darlene about something serious. My husband had told me something the night before that I wasn’t sure I could deal with at all.
I thought it was unfair, but I wanted my daughter’s honest opinion. Luckily, Nicholas planned to take the kids to the park. “Ok, Alice, honey. See you later,” he said, giving me a worried look because he knew I had been thinking about last night.
I had to talk to Darlene about what her father did. | Source: Pexels
“Mom, what’s going on?” Darlene asked when we were finally alone.
“Oh, Darlene. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I don’t know if I’m being selfish or what,” I started.
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“Tell me. We’ll figure things out,” she told me.
“Last night, your father revealed something that I’m not sure I can forgive. He willed this big mansion to his son, Nick,” I explained.
“What? I thought he hadn’t spoken to Nick in years,” Darlene said, confused.
“He hasn’t! Ever since that big fight where Nick called him all kinds of names because Nicholas wouldn’t give him money,” I added.
“But then, he’s giving him this house? You live here too. You guys are married,” Darlene continued.
Darlene couldn’t believe Nicholes would do this. | Source: Pexels
“That’s the problem, sweetheart. He just made that decision on his own without telling me anything about it. He showed me the will last night. It has been notarized and everything,” I said. “He is also giving him all the money in his bank account.”
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“I can’t believe Dad would do this,” Darlene said. “I mean…I wasn’t expecting anything for my sister or me. But he completely disregarded us…his family for 20 years.”
“That’s how I feel. Like after all this time, we were never his real family! His son has treated him horribly for so long, and I know that his horrible mother influenced him. But still…I don’t know what to do,” I finished and dried the tears running down my face.
We always had a seemingly great relationship. | Source: Pexels
“I’m just in shock. You guys have had the perfect relationship for so long. My husband and I talked about it all the time. I can’t believe Dad would do this,” Darlene muttered. “Let me call Rosaline. Let’s see what she thinks.”
“Dad did what?!” Rosaline yelled through the speakerphone. “I can’t believe it. I don’t want his money, but I can’t believe he wouldn’t want Mom to be set for life if anything happens.”
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“Yeah, that’s how I feel,” Darlene told her sister. Meanwhile, I was still crying softly.
“Well, I’m sorry. I consider him my father, but I won’t tolerate this. Mom, you have rights to the house and the money. We are taking legal action NOW!” Rosaline exclaimed and hung up.
I didn’t want to take legal action, but my daughters insisted. | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t want to take this any further. He’s my husband, and I know he wants to take care of Nick Jr. because he wasn’t there most of his life,” I told Darlene, hoping that she would convince her sister to back down.
“No, Mom. That wasn’t Dad’s fault or yours. What are you going to do if something happens? You would be left homeless and penniless. Rosaline is right. We have no option unless he changes his will,” Darlene coaxed.
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“I’ll try to talk to him,” I said tentatively. But I knew Nicholas. I knew he wouldn’t change his mind. I talked to him that night after Darlene left with her kids. Nicholas wouldn’t budge, so I packed my things and went to stay at Rosaline’s house.
Our relationship was ruined, but at least, I wasn’t homeless and penniless. | Source: Pexels
We took him to court but gave him many chances to change his mind. In the end, Nicholas decided to sell the big house and give me half the price. I didn’t want to divorce him, but there was no other option. So I received half our savings as well.
He ruined our relationship. My daughters and I never saw him again. In the end, he didn’t consider us family at all.
What can we learn from this story?
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- Money troubles can ruin everything. Nicholas disregarded part of his family in favor of his son, and in the end, he ruined his marriage.
- You have to protect yourself. Alice didn’t want to take her husband to court, but her daughters wanted to protect her.
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My Neighbor’s Teenage Daughter Wanted a Birthday Dress, but What She Really Needed Was a Mother’s Love — Story of the Day
After moving to a quiet town, I never expected my gruff neighbor’s rebellious daughter to shatter my window and my perception of their family. What were they hiding behind those cold, closed doors?
After my divorce, I moved to a small town, eager for a fresh start. My new house, while far from perfect, had charm. It had a weathered porch, blue shutters, and a neighborhood that seemed friendly enough.
Except for Andrew, my next-door neighbor. Gruff and aloof, he rarely spoke to anyone, and his only company was his teenage daughter, Cora.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Cora was hard to miss. With short hair, scraped hands, and an ever-present basketball, she seemed to live in her own world. One afternoon, I spotted her practicing in their yard, her sneakers squeaking against the pavement as she dribbled with fierce determination.
“Hi there,” I called, stepping closer.
Her glare hit me like a cold wind. Before I could say another word, she launched the basketball. I had no time to react as it sailed over the fence and smashed through my living room window.
“Great shot,” I said, biting back my frustration.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Cora smirked. “What can someone like you tell me anyway? You can’t even manage your own windows.”
And just like that, she turned and disappeared into the house.
Later, ball in hand, I knocked on their door. Andrew answered with annoyance on his face.
“Your daughter broke my window,” I said, holding up the ball.
He glanced at it and shrugged. “If she broke it, she’ll deal with the consequences. I’m raising her to handle herself when people stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
His tone left no room for discussion.
“Right,” I muttered, walking back to my house.
I glanced over my shoulder at Andrew’s door. Something about him felt impenetrable, as though every word he spoke was meant to keep people at arm’s length.
Whatever it was, it had shaped him and turned Cora into a sharp-edged reflection of that pain. There was more to their story, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next morning, I wandered into the local bakery. As I browsed the shelves, debating between a crusty baguette and a cinnamon roll, my eye caught a familiar figure. Cora was crouched near the pastries, her backpack open. She glanced around nervously before stuffing a couple of turnovers inside.
The shop owner, a wiry man with sharp eyes, started moving toward her, suspicion written all over his face. Acting quickly, I stepped between them and raised my hand.
“Those pastries are mine,” I said cheerfully, pulling out some cash. “I’ll pay for them now.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The shop owner hesitated, his gaze flickering between me and Cora, before shrugging and returning to the counter. I grabbed a baguette for myself, paid, and headed outside.
Cora was sitting on a wooden bench nearby, hunched over, her knees drawn up. Her face was smudged with what looked like dirt or maybe tears. She wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, clearly trying to compose herself.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Hey,” I said, sitting down beside her and handing her one of the pastries. “I hear these are pretty good. You should try one.”
She stared straight ahead, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her backpack.
“Why didn’t you just pay for them?” I asked casually, taking a bite of my pastry. “Doesn’t your Dad give you pocket money?”
She sniffed and muttered, “Don’t you have anything better to do? Just leave me alone.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t move. Instead, I nudged the pastry closer to her.
“I already paid for you. Next time, just ask if you need help. No big deal.”
Cora hesitated before taking a small bite, chewing slowly, still avoiding eye contact.
“Thanks for not telling on me,” she murmured after a long pause.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, giving her space to open up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Finally, she sighed and said quietly, “I’m saving money for my birthday. I want to buy a dress. I’ve never had a party with friends before. Dad and I usually just go to the amusement park or get donuts and go fishing. He says dresses ruin character.”
“Well,” I said after a beat, “everyone deserves a party and a dress if they want one. You’d look great in it, I’m sure.”
She shrugged, brushing crumbs off her lap. “Maybe.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
After that day, Cora started coming over to my yard. At first, she pretended it was no big deal—just passing through or needing a quiet spot. But little by little, she let her guard down.
I invited her in for cookies one afternoon, teaching her how to roll dough and press cookie cutters into shapes. Another time, we sat in my backyard with an old jewelry box I’d kept, sorting through beads and ribbons to make bracelets.
She didn’t say much, but she didn’t have to. The way her shoulders relaxed and her face softened during those moments said enough.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
As we threaded beads onto strings, I ventured cautiously.
“Your mom… did she like making things like this?”
Cora’s hands stilled, her jaw tightening. “We don’t talk about her.”
“Why not?” I asked gently.
“Dad says it doesn’t help me to become stronger.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help wondering what secrets Andrew was trying to bury, so the next day, I swallowed my nerves and knocked on their door. When Andrew answered, I forced a smile.
“I thought Cora might enjoy going to the fair,” I said.
“We don’t do fairs,” he replied gruffly.
I pressed on, assuring him it could be good for her.
After a long pause, his jaw clenched, and he muttered, “Fine. But I’m coming too.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
At the fair, the atmosphere was lively—bright banners flapped in the breeze, music played from a carousel, and the smell of funnel cakes filled the air. Cora’s eyes darted around. We wandered through the stalls, and I spotted a booth where people were weaving flower crowns.
“Look, Cora,” I said, nudging her. “Want to give it a try?”
She shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “I guess.”
She sat down at the stall, her fingers fumbling with the delicate flowers and stems. I could see her frustration building as her first attempt fell apart.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Andrew stood nearby, watching with a skeptical expression. When the second crown collapsed in her hands, he let out a low chuckle.
“Maybe this isn’t for you. Stick to things you’re good at.”
Cora’s face turned crimson. She stood abruptly and knocked over a nearby display of floral arrangements. Pots and vases crashed to the ground, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
The vendor rushed over, her face red with anger. “Who’s going to pay for this mess?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Not me,” Andrew said. “This wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t dragged into this nonsense.”
The vendor looked at me expectantly, and I sighed, pulling out my wallet to pay for the damages. I turned to Cora, but she was already storming off toward the edge of the fairground.
Andrew’s glare pinned me in place. “Do you really think you know better how to raise my daughter? Your so-called femininity has already caused enough problems.”
“All I wanted was to show her that life doesn’t always have to be so rigid.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “Do you know what it’s like to lose everything? To watch someone you love disappear because they weren’t strong enough to survive? I’m trying to make sure that doesn’t happen to her.”
The pain in his eyes caught me off guard, but before I could respond, he straightened, his face hardening again.
“Stay away from us,” he said, his voice cold, before turning and walking off in the direction Cora had gone.
I stood there, the weight of his words sinking in. Andrew wasn’t just angry. He was scared. He was building walls around himself and Cora, trying to shield them both from a world he no longer trusted.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
As I watched him disappear into the crowd, I wondered if there was a way to reach him. For that moment, though, I knew I’d only scratched the surface of whatever pain he was carrying.
***
For days, there was no sign of Cora. The silence from next door felt heavy, and I assumed that Andrew had tightened his grip, keeping her on house arrest.
I tried to focus on my tasks, but my thoughts always drifted back to her.
Late one evening, as rain poured in steady sheets outside, a knock startled me. I found Cora standing on my porch, drenched from head to toe.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Dad doesn’t understand me. It’s all fishing, basketball, and rules. You showed me that life could be different,” she said, her voice trembling as she stepped inside.
I led her to the kitchen, grabbing a towel to dry her. I placed a warm mug in front of her.
“I miss my mom. She’s been gone for years, but sometimes… it feels like it just happened.”
My heart ached for her. “I’m sorry, Cora. I didn’t know.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“I feel like I’ll never be what my dad wants me to be,” she admitted, her fingers tracing circles on the mug. “He wants me to be tough, but I’m tired of being tough all the time.”
I reached out, placing my hand over hers. “Your father loves you, Cora. But I think he’s struggling too. Maybe he’s scared of losing you like he lost your mom.”
She didn’t reply, but her shoulders sagged as if letting go of a weight she’d carried for too long.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next morning, I met Andrew at his door.
“I don’t have time for this,” he said, his tone clipped.
“Make time,” I said firmly. “Cora’s hurting. She needs you to hear her.”
He hesitated before finally speaking. “Cora’s mother drowned because she didn’t know how to swim. I’m trying to make sure Cora’s strong enough to handle anything,” he said, his voice tight. “I can’t lose her too.”
“I’m sorry, Andrew. But Cora’s already strong. Your fears shouldn’t keep her from being happy.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He didn’t respond immediately but eventually nodded. After a pause, he sighed. “Her birthday’s coming up. I… I don’t know how to make it special for her. I’ve never been good at this. Could you… help?”
I smiled softly. “I think I know exactly what she needs.”
***
On Cora’s birthday, I organized a small party at my house, inviting a few of her school friends. She beamed when I handed her a wrapped box with the dress she’d been eyeing in the shop window. When she put it on, her joy was radiant, lighting up the entire room.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Andrew stayed back, watching from the doorway. After a while, he stepped closer.
“She looks so much like her mother. I think… she would’ve wanted this for her. Thank you. For everything. I think I’ve been holding on to the wrong things.”
“Maybe it’s time to hold on to her instead.”
Andrew suggested that the three of us spend more time together. It felt like a promise.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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