After Megan’s parents kick her out at eighteen, she turns her back on her family. But one day, she drives back to her childhood home, only to discover that the house is in her name and her parents have been missing. Years later, she drives by again, only this time, she sees the old house decorated for the holidays. Are her parents back?
It’s been twenty years since I last spoke to my parents. Twenty years since they kicked me out for getting pregnant.
I was 18, young and terrified, but stubborn enough to stand my ground. I still remember my dad’s voice, the anger almost chilling me to my bones.
An upset girl sitting on her bed | Source: Midjourney
“If you leave with him, Megan, don’t bother coming back!” he yelled. “I don’t want to see you again! You’re a mess, and instead of choosing to be better, you’re choosing self-destruction.”
I left anyway.
That same night, my mom stood quietly at the door, her arms wrapped around herself, watching me go. She didn’t say anything; she just let me walk out into the cold.
A shouting man | Source: Midjourney
“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything? Mom, really?” I said.
She opened her mouth for a second. Instead of saying anything, she just went inside and closed the door.
They never forgave me.
But here I am, twenty years later. I’m thirty-eight, with three beautiful kids and a man who’s been by my side through it all. Evan and I were high school sweethearts, and when I got pregnant, I really thought that he was going to leave me.
An upset woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Why would I leave you?” he asked, holding the pregnancy test. “We’re in this together, Megan.”
“But what about your football scholarship to college? You’d give that up?” I asked.
“Of course, I would,” he said. “Let’s do this, Meg. You, me, and the baby!”
Just like that, I decided to tell my parents, which is how my father threw me out.
A teenage couple sitting on a bench | Source: Midjourney
Despite everything, we built a life. A really good life. And let me tell you, I don’t regret a single thing. Evan works hard, and our kids, Ella, Maya, and Ben, are everything I ever dreamed of.
If you had told my 18-year-old self that I’d still be with him two decades later, I would have laughed through my tears.
But here we are.
Happy.
Three children sitting together | Source: Midjourney
The last time I visited my parents’ house was five years ago. They had gone missing on a hiking trip in the mountains. It was supposed to be a short getaway, apparently.
Just a weekend.
But they never came back.
“I’m sorry, Megan,” our neighbor, Mr. Smith, said when I went over to ask about my parents. “You really didn’t hear about it? The incident?”
An older man standing in his doorway | Source: Midjourney
“What incident? What are you talking about?” I asked, an uneasy feeling taking over me.
“They went hiking, Megan. You know, the usual long weekend trips that they make? They left the keys here for me to feed the dog. But at the end of the weekend, they didn’t return.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
A couple hiking | Source: Midjourney
“When they didn’t come back, I reported it to the police, and a search party was sent out. The officers said that all they found were their abandoned backpacks on a cliff,” he sighed.
“No… bodies?” I asked, my voice threatening to break.
As strained as our relationship was, I always expected my parents to be here, at home. For them to always be within those four walls for when I needed them.
I always counted on them to be there for the day I decided to bring my children to meet them.
An upset woman standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
And now?… they were gone.
“No, sweetheart,” Mr. Smith said. “No bodies, no footprints, nothing. They were just gone. They vanished without a trace.”
After that, it was all about getting the house signed over to me. I didn’t want to do anything with it, I just wanted to keep it there. I went to the police station and the detective signed off on the case as a cold case.
“Move on, Megan,” he said. “We’ve had no leads in years.”
The issue was proving that I was their daughter, luckily there was a clause in my father’s will, stating that everything would be mine if he and my mother passed.
For five years after, the house sat empty. I never had the courage to sell it, though. Something about letting it go felt wrong.
An empty house | Source: Midjourney
So, it just stood there, gathering dust and neglect, frozen in time like a ghost of the past I wasn’t ready to confront.
Until tonight.
It was Christmas Eve. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I found myself driving toward the old place instead of getting the extra butter that Evan and I needed for the turkey the next day.
The house was abandoned and had been for the past five years. As I drove, I imagined exactly how it would look after all these years. I imagined the cracked front windows and the streaks of graffiti across the walls like battle scars.
An abandoned house with an overgrown garden | Source: Midjourney
I imagined the weeds swallowing the flower beds that my mother used to love, and the wooden porch, which was most likely splintered and sagging under the years of neglect.
When I pulled into the driveway, my chest tightened at the sight of the house.
It was decorated.
Not just randomly decorated, but beautifully decorated. The old garlands of twinkling lights my dad used to string along the eaves were glowing softly against the evening sky.
Christmas decorations on an old house | Source: Midjourney
There was a faded wreath with little bells, which hung crookedly on the front door. There were the familiar plastic candy canes lining the path to the house.
I even recognized the same wooden reindeer we used to set up every December. They were all old and chipped but still standing proudly on the lawn.
My heart raced as I stepped out of the car. How could this be?
Wooden reindeer on a lawn | Source: Midjourney
Who would have done something like this? No one lived there. No one had for years.
As I walked around, I saw a little generator on the porch. It was hooked up to the lights, fueling them among the rest of the desolate house.
The decorations looked exactly the way my dad used to do them. The same lights, the same setup. A lump formed in my throat. It was like stepping back into my childhood, as if time had rewound itself.
A connected generator | Source: Midjourney
Even if it was just for one night.
I had to know who was behind this. I needed to know if it was real or if it was in my head.
The front door was slightly ajar. I hesitated for a moment, my pulse quick and uneven, before gently pushing it open.
Inside, the house smelled of dust and memories, but the living room…
The front door of an empty house | Source: Midjourney
The living room took my breath away.
A Christmas tree stood by the fireplace, just like the ones from my childhood. It was decorated with mismatched ornaments and too many strands of tinsel. The stockings were hung on the mantel, and beneath the tree were a few wrapped presents, tied with fraying ribbons.
And then I saw him.
A man hunched by a fireplace | Source: Midjourney
A figure sat in front of the fireplace, hunched slightly, silhouetted by the glow of the dying fire.
I couldn’t stop myself. The word slipped from my lips before I could think.
“Dad?” I called.
The figure stirred and turned slowly toward me, the firelight flickering across his face.
It wasn’t my dad.
It was a young man in his mid-thirties, I think. His dark hair was tousled, and his face was shadowed by exhaustion. He wore a threadbare coat, and his cheeks were pink from the cold.
But as soon as I saw him, I knew exactly who he was.
“Max?” I whispered.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
His eyes widened, and a small, embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You remember me? Megan?”
Of course, I remembered him.
He used to be the little boy who lived next door, the one with the messy hair and a toothy grin. But then, he couldn’t have been older than me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
A smiling young boy | Source: Midjourney
Max glanced around the room.
“I’ve been staying here. Just for the winters, Megan,” he admitted. “It’s the second year now.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” he said, holding his head.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
It took me a minute to process what he was saying.
“Max, are you homeless?” I asked.
He gave a small nod.
“Yeah,” he said. “My adoptive parents, the Smiths? They kicked me out, actually. It was after you came around about ten years ago, and my dad told you about your parents. I’ve had some rotten luck, and I guess they just didn’t want to care for me anymore. It’s hard, you know? Finding work. I was between friends for a while… but even they got tired.”
A man sitting next to a fire | Source: Midjourney
My chest tightened at his words.
He glanced around the room, a smile playing on his lips.
“I remembered how your dad used to decorate the house. You guys had the nicest house in the neighborhood. When I was walking around for old time’s sake, I saw that the house was still empty. And I made myself at home… I found the decorations in the basement.”
A basement | Source: Midjourney
We were both quiet for a while.
“Why didn’t you get rid of the place?” he asked me.
“I don’t have any good answers,” I said. “I just wanted to keep it the way it was.”
Max nodded.
A man sitting next to a fire | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t be here,” Max said. “I just… had nowhere to go. No parents to turn to for the holidays, and honestly, I didn’t think anyone would mind.”
Something broke inside me at that moment. I had been through everything Max had just described.
“Come home with me,” I said. “Nobody should spend Christmas alone. And anyway, I have three kids who will need distracting from the pile of Christmas presents at home.”
A pile of presents under a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
Max’s eyes widened, and for a second, he looked like that same little boy from all those years ago, the one who had been desperate for someone to care.
Now, sitting in my living room, watching my kids get to know someone from my past, I realize what I need to do.
Evan and I have some savings. It could be enough to do the house up properly. Once it’s fixed, Max can live there. He can rent out a couple of rooms to boarders if he needs the extra income. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and I know it will give him a chance to get back on his feet.
I put my cup of hot chocolate down on the coffee table. I was getting excited.
House renovations in progress | Source: Midjourney
I don’t know if my parents would approve of the plan, but it doesn’t matter. That house doesn’t belong to their memory anymore. It’s time to give it a new purpose.
And who knows? Maybe the money we make from it will go toward Ella, Maya, or Ben’s college fund someday.
What would you have done?
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Dropped My Naughty Kids at My Parents’ Home — I Was Shocked When They Were Good as Gold When I Picked Them Up
When Cara and her husband get an invitation to an adult-only party, they welcome the break from being parents of three for a few hours. Thankfully, her parents are ready to save the day and babysit the kids. But when Cara and Jason go back to fetch the kids, they’re shocked with the change in their behavior.
“Are you sure that the kids will be okay?” my husband, Jason, asked me as I went through my closet trying to find something to wear.
A woman looking through her closet | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “They will be absolutely fine with my parents.”
“It’s just that you know how they can be,” Jason said. “The kids, not your parents. They’re a handful.”
“They’ll be fine,” I repeated.
A close-up of a smiling man | Source: Midjourney
But my husband wasn’t wrong.
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 MIL Kept Bringing Her Towels and Sheets to Wash at My House – What I Found Out Left Me Speechless
My mother-in-law is obsessively organized, but when she started hauling her towels and sheets to wash at my house every week, something didn’t feel right. I was annoyed, and I knew she was hiding something. But what I discovered upon returning home early one day left me rattled.
I’m Claire, and at 29, I thought I had my mother-in-law Marlene all figured out. Four years of marriage to Evan taught me a lot, but nothing could have prepared me for what I discovered about his mother that day.
A distressed woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
First, let me tell you about Marlene. She’s always been… well, intense, is putting it mildly. She’s the type who shows up unannounced at your doorstep, armed with homemade lasagna and an endless supply of opinions about everything from how I fold my laundry to the way I organize my spice rack.
“Claire, dear,” she’d say, barging in with her signature apple pie, “I noticed your garden could use some attention. And while we’re at it, have you considered rearranging your living room furniture? The feng shui is all wrong.”
I gripped my knife tighter, counting to ten in my head as I chopped the carrots. I’d grown used to her surprise visits and constant criticism, but that didn’t make them easier to swallow.
A senior woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
“Oh honey, is that what you’re making for dinner?” Marlene’s voice drifted from my kitchen, where she stood inspecting my half-chopped vegetables. “You know Evan prefers his carrots julienned, not diced.”
“The diced carrots are for the soup stock, Marlene,” I explained, my voice tight with forced patience.
“Well, if you’re making stock, you really should roast the vegetables first. Here, let me show you—”
“I’ve got it under control,” I interrupted, stepping between her and my cutting board. “Don’t you have plans with Patrick today?”
An annoyed woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
She fidgeted with her pearl necklace. “Oh, your father-in-law’s busy with his golf tournament. I thought I’d stop by and help you get organized. Your linen closet could use some attention.”
“My linen closet is fine,” I muttered, but she was already halfway down the hallway.
“Goodness, Claire!” she called out. “When was the last time you properly folded these sheets? The corners aren’t even aligned!”
It’s exhausting, but Evan adores her, so I’ve learned to bite my tongue and smile. After all, she’s his mother, and I’d rather keep the peace than start a war I can’t win.
An annoyed senior woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
But things took a strange turn about two months ago. That’s when Marlene started showing up weekly with garbage bags full of towels and bed linens.
She’d breeze past me like it was perfectly normal, saying, “Oh, I thought I’d use your washer and dryer today. Mine aren’t working quite right anymore.”
Two weeks later, it started getting worse. I was sipping my morning coffee when the doorbell rang. There stood Marlene, clutching three large garbage bags loaded with dirty laundry.
“My washing machine’s acting up again,” she announced, pushing past me. “You wouldn’t mind if I used yours, would you, dear?”
Three large garbage bags loaded with dirty laundry | Source: Midjourney
I blinked at her retreating form. “Your washing machine? The one you just bought six months ago? You said you were going to fix it, right?”
“Oh, you know how these modern appliances are,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “They make them so complicated these days.”
I watched her disappear into my laundry room, my coffee growing cold in my hands. Something felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on what.
That night, I brought it up to Evan. “Don’t you think it’s weird? Your mom showing up with laundry every week?”
An anxious woman sitting on the bed | Source: Midjourney
He barely looked up from his laptop. “Mom’s just being Mom. Remember when she reorganized our entire garage because she thought the holiday decorations were in the wrong boxes?”
“This feels different,” I insisted. “She seemed… nervous. Like she’s hiding something.”
“Claire,” he sighed, finally meeting my eyes. “Can we have one evening without analyzing my mother’s every move? It’s just laundry. She’s always welcome to use our washing machine. Maybe she’ll stop once she gets hers fixed.”
But it didn’t stop.
A man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
Every week, like clockwork, Marlene would appear with her bags of laundry. Sometimes, she’d wait until I got home, and other times, she’d use her emergency key — the one we’d given her for actual emergencies, not impromptu laundry sessions.
“Found more sheets that need washing?” I asked one Wednesday, trying to keep the edge out of my voice.
“Just a few things,” she replied, hurrying past me. Her hands were trembling as she loaded the washer.
A smiling senior woman standing near a washing machine | Source: Midjourney
I called Evan at work, my frustration boiling over. “Your mother’s here again. Third time this week.”
“I’m in the middle of a meeting, Claire.”
“She’s acting weird, Evan. Really weird. I think something’s going on.”
“The only thing going on is you turning this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” he snapped. “I need to go.”
I was deeply concerned by Marlene’s erratic behavior.
A suspicious woman in a laundry room | Source: Midjourney
The truth finally surfaced on a fateful Friday that week. I’d left work early, hoping to surprise Evan with a home-cooked meal. Instead, I was the one surprised when I saw Marlene’s car in our driveway.
The washing machine’s hum guided me to the laundry room as I quietly entered the house. She was frantically transferring wet linens from washer to dryer, her perfectly manicured nails catching on the fabric in her haste.
“Marlene?”
“Claire! I… I didn’t expect you home so early!” She screamed, spinning around.
A senior woman gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
“Clearly,” I said, taking in the scene. That’s when I saw a pillowcase with distinct rusty red stains. My stomach lurched. “What is that?”
“Nothing!” She reached for it, but I was faster.
“Is this BLOOD?” My voice shook. “Marlene, what’s going on?”
“It’s not what you think,” she whispered, her face draining of color.
My hands trembled as I reached for my phone. “Tell me the truth right now, or I’m calling the police.”
A suspicious woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
“No!” She lunged for my phone. “Please, I can explain!”
“Then explain! Because from where I’m standing, this looks really fishy.”
“I’ve been…” She sank onto the dryer, her shoulders slumping. “I’ve been helping injured animals.”
Of all the scenarios I’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. “WHAT?”
“Strays,” she continued, tears welling up in her eyes. “I find them at night… cats, dogs, even a baby raccoon once. I wrap them in towels and take them to the emergency vet. Last night, I found a little puppy. He was curled up near a dumpster. Poor thing was hurt.”
An emotional senior woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
I sat down on a chair, trying to process this revelation. “But why all the secrecy?”
“Patrick,” she said, twisting her wedding ring. “He’s severely allergic to animal fur. If he knew I was bringing strays into our garage…” She shuddered. “Last year, I tried to help an injured cat. He was so angry and threatened to cancel our joint credit card. Said I was wasting money on ‘worthless creatures.’”
“So you’ve been secretly saving animals and washing the evidence at OUR house?”
She nodded miserably. “Last week, I found a dog with a broken leg behind the supermarket. The week before, it was a cat trapped in a storm drain. I couldn’t just leave them there, Claire. I couldn’t. Those poor things.”
A compassionate senior woman holding a tabby cat | Source: Midjourney
“How many animals have you helped?”
“Over 71 since January,” she whispered. “All of them found homes, except for the ones that were too far gone to save.” Her voice cracked on the last words.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I gently squeezed her hand.
“Everyone already thinks I’m controlling and obsessive,” she wiped her eyes with a damp tissue. “I didn’t want to give them another reason to judge me.”
An emotional senior woman wiping her tears | Source: Midjourney
“Judge you? Marlene, this is amazing.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“I think you’re brave,” I said, surprised by how much I meant it. “And I want to help you.”
“You do?”
“Of course. But no more sneaking around. We’ll do this together, okay?”
She hugged me then, something she’d never done before. “Thank you, Claire. You don’t know what this means to me.”
A young woman smiling warmly | Source: Midjourney
That evening, after helping Marlene fold her now-clean linens, I heard Evan’s key in the lock. I quickly wiped away the tears we’d shed while she told me stories about all the animals she’d saved.
“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing the laundry basket. “Mom’s washing machine still broken?”
I thought about the kitten Marlene had described finding last evening, barely alive in a dumpster. About how she’d stayed up all night feeding it with an eyedropper. About this whole other side to the woman I’d misjudged for so long.
A man in a room | Source: Midjourney
“Actually,” I smiled, “I think her washing machine’s not gonna work for quite some time. She can feel free to use ours. I don’t mind!”
“Really? I thought you were—”
“Let’s just say your mom has her reasons,” I said, thinking of our new shared secret. “And they’re better than I could’ve ever imagined.”
I left that conversation with a new understanding of the woman I’d thought I knew. And while our relationship would never be perfect, I learned that sometimes the most beautiful truths hide in the most unexpected places… even in a pile of crimson-stained laundry.
A cheerful woman holding folded laundry | 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.
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