Barbra worked hard every day to support her husband, Christopher, who had become disabled after a serious accident at work. But one day, she discovered something that would change everything. She saw him walking on two legs and playing golf with a friend. When she confronted him, he revealed a shocking truth about his so-called disability.
Barbra sighed as she settled into her seat on the bus, heading back home after spending a relaxing weekend with her friend near the beach in Destin, Florida. It had been a lovely break, but she was ready to return to her husband, Christopher, in Tallahassee. The journey home was only a few hours, and she planned to unwind and rest before getting back to her busy life.
“Excuse me, can we switch seats? I get a little motion sickness, and sitting by the window helps,” Barbra asked the girl next to her.
“Of course! I’m getting off soon anyway,” the girl replied with a smile. Barbra gratefully took the window seat, gazing out as the bus began its journey.
Barbra worked a lot. She had a regular corporate job, ran a small Etsy shop where she sold custom knitted items, and worked part-time at a coffee shop. She did all of this because Christopher was in a wheelchair and couldn’t contribute financially.
Two years ago, Christopher had suffered a serious accident at work when a box fell on his head. Unfortunately, he was in an area he wasn’t supposed to be, so the company wasn’t legally required to pay him much in compensation. They covered his hospital stay and bought him a wheelchair, but that was it.
He received some disability payments from the government, but they weren’t enough to maintain the lifestyle they had before the accident. Barbra, determined to keep their lives as normal as possible, took on multiple jobs to make up the difference, even paying for his physical therapy out of pocket.
Barbra didn’t mind working hard. She loved Christopher and knew he was struggling with what had happened. He seemed down a lot, except for the weekends when his friend Bruce would invite him over. Bruce had a big house, a game room, and always took Christopher to baseball games.
Bruce’s work schedule was busy, but when he had time, they spent entire weekends together. Barbra used those weekends to visit her friend in Destin and take a break herself. It wasn’t often, but it was a nice getaway. However, now it was time to return to her regular life.
She dozed off during the bus ride but woke up as they neared Tallahassee. Looking out the window, she saw they were passing near Bruce’s house, and her heart stopped when she noticed two men standing in the front yard. They were heading toward a car and pulling out a bag of golf clubs.
Barbra squinted. One of the men was Bruce, but the other was wearing an ugly Hawaiian shirt that only her husband, Christopher, loved to wear. She watched in shock as Christopher walked alongside Bruce, laughing and swinging a pretend golf shot. They both headed to the back of Bruce’s house, where he had a small golf course.
Barbra couldn’t believe what she was seeing. For two years, she had worked tirelessly while Christopher was supposedly unable to walk. Yet here he was, walking and playing golf. Her mind raced with questions. Was this a recent development? Did he plan to surprise her? She hoped that was the case.
When the bus reached her stop, she hurried off and drove home, her heart pounding. She tried to stay calm, convincing herself that Christopher would explain everything when he got back.
Later that evening, Christopher arrived home with Bruce. Barbra waited, expecting a big reveal, but nothing happened.
“Hey, honey! How was your trip?” Christopher asked, as Bruce wheeled him into the living room.
“It was great. How about you guys? What did you do all weekend?” Barbra asked, hoping to hear the truth.
“Oh, you know, same old stuff. We went to a baseball game and hung out,” Bruce said casually before leaving.
Barbra served Christopher dinner, still waiting for him to mention something about walking. “You know, Bruce has a golf course. You could’ve played,” she hinted.
“I still haven’t figured out how to play from a wheelchair,” Christopher replied between bites, acting as if everything was normal.
Barbra couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed her fork down. “Really? You haven’t figured out how to play in a wheelchair?” she snapped.
Christopher looked startled. “What? It’s hard to play golf in a wheelchair—”
“I SAW YOU! I saw you walking and playing golf at Bruce’s house! Christopher, tell me the truth right now!” she shouted, her voice shaking with anger.
Christopher froze, unable to deny it. “How?” he finally asked.
“My bus passed by Bruce’s house. I saw you! You’ve been lying to me. For how long?” Barbra demanded.
He sighed, defeated. “It’s been about a year and a half,” he admitted. “I just didn’t want to go back to work.”
Barbra’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? A year and a half? I’ve been working my fingers to the bone, and you just didn’t want to work?”
Christopher tried to explain. “I needed a break. You were making enough money, and I liked how you took care of me. It’s been the best time of my life.”
“You’ve been lying to me for over a year,” Barbra repeated, shaking her head. “Where do you even go when I take you to physical therapy?”
“I lie to the therapist too,” Christopher confessed.
Barbra couldn’t believe it. “How long has Bruce known?” she asked.
“Since I started walking again,” he admitted.
Barbra stood up, unable to process everything. She grabbed her bag and left the house, going to stay with her mother. That night, she cried harder than she had in years, devastated by Christopher’s betrayal.
After a month at her mother’s house, Barbra filed for divorce. She cut all ties with Christopher, emptied their shared accounts, quit her jobs, and decided to travel the world. It was the best decision she ever made.
Businessman Loses All Hope After His Diagnosis, but One Hospital Encounter Changes Everything — Story of the Day
When a workaholic businessman receives devastating news about his health, he meets a young boy in the hospital who changes his outlook on life. Their bond grows through unexpected friendship and small acts of kindness, teaching him what truly matters—until a heartbreaking twist reshapes everything.
Andrew, 50, sat at his desk, shuffling through papers while juggling scheduling meetings with his partners.
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He didn’t hear Michael, his assistant, enter the room. Michael stood there, waiting. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.
No response. Andrew kept working, his focus sharp. Michael tried again. “Mr. Smith.” Still no answer. He repeated his name three more times.
Finally, Andrew slammed his hands on the desk and snapped, “What?”
Michael didn’t flinch. “You asked me to tell you if your ex-wife called.”
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Andrew groaned and rubbed his temples. “How many times do I have to tell you? Ignore her calls. What now?”
Michael held a notepad. “She left a message. I should warn you—it’s a direct quote. Her words, not mine.” He read from the note. “‘You pompous jerk, I will never forgive you for wasting so many years of my life. If you don’t give me back my painting, I’ll smash your car.’ That’s the message.”
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Andrew’s face turned red. “We’ve been divorced for two years! Does she not have anything better to do?”
Michael looked at him, waiting for further instructions. “Should I respond to her?”
“No! And stop taking her calls,” Andrew said. Then he paused. “Actually, tell her I threw that painting in the trash!”
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Andrew grabbed a pen and hurled it toward the wall. Michael ducked slightly, gave a polite nod, and left the room.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He frowned, picking it up.
“Andrew Smith?” a voice asked.
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
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“This is the hospital. Your test results are ready. The doctor wants to see you.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew said, irritated. “I’m busy.”
“Sorry, sir. The doctor will explain in person.”
Andrew sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll come in.” He hung up, shaking his head.
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Andrew rarely allowed himself the luxury of a lunch break, but this time was different. The doctor’s office was quiet, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound.
Andrew sat stiffly in a chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest. When the door opened, the doctor stepped in, his face serious. Andrew frowned, sensing bad news.
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The doctor sat across from him and spoke in a steady, measured tone, using terms Andrew didn’t understand.
Then came the word—cancer. “We need to act fast,” the doctor said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Andrew asked, his voice sharp. “I own a company. I can’t just check into a hospital.”
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The doctor met his eyes. “Your health should come first. The company can wait.”
Andrew leaned forward. “What are my chances of getting better?”
“I can’t promise anything,” the doctor said. “Starting treatment right away is critical.”
Andrew’s voice rose. “Can I still work while I’m here?”
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“Treatment affects everyone differently,” the doctor explained. “You will stay in the hospital so we can monitor you. Someone can bring you a computer.”
Andrew frowned and stood up. “Fine. I’ll sort it out.”
The doctor watched him leave. “We’ll see you tomorrow with your things,” he said before Andrew reached the door.
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As Andrew walked through the hospital’s pediatric wing, he noticed a boy, about eight years old, tossing a ball back and forth with a nurse.
The sound of their laughter echoed in the corridor. The ball suddenly rolled across the floor and stopped near Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir!” the boy called out, smiling. “Can you please throw the ball back?”
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Andrew picked up the ball, his face tense. Without a word, he hurled it down the hall, far from the boy and nurse, then turned and walked away.
“That was mean, sir!” the boy shouted.
Andrew had been in the hospital for days that felt like weeks. He tried to keep working, setting up his laptop and pushing through meetings.
But the treatment was draining. Each session left him weaker. The nausea was constant, and sleep was nearly impossible.
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One afternoon, during another long chemotherapy session, Andrew leaned back, his eyes half-closed. He felt miserable.
Suddenly, a small voice broke through his fog. He opened his eyes to see a boy standing in front of him. Startled, Andrew flinched. The boy giggled. It was the same boy from the corridor.
“What do you want, kid?” Andrew mumbled, not even lifting his head.
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“I’ve been walking around the hospital looking for someone to play with. It’s boring here.”
Andrew glanced at him, annoyed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tommy,” the boy replied with a wide grin.
Andrew sighed. “Listen, Tommy. I’m not in the mood to play. Go bother someone else before I start feeling worse.”
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Tommy didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small peppermint candy. He held it out to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated, then snatched the candy and set it on the table.
“You’re really grumpy!” Tommy said, laughing. “I’m going to call you Mr. Grouch. Are you mad because you’re scared of needles?” He pointed at the IV attached to Andrew’s arm.
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Andrew frowned. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s fine. I was scared at first too, but then I stopped. My mom says I’m a superhero. Do you have a superpower?”
“No,” Andrew said, his voice flat.
“That’s because you’re too sad,” Tommy replied, his tone serious now.
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Andrew looked at the boy, surprised by the honesty in his big, bright eyes. “Is there anything you want?” Andrew asked.
Tommy grinned. “Yeah. I want to buy flowers for my mom. She works really hard, but I don’t have any money.”
Andrew sighed again, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a few bills. “Here. Get your flowers. Maybe buy yourself something too. But leave me alone.”
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Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grouch!” He ran out, clutching the money, while Andrew stared at the peppermint candy on the table.
With a sigh, he picked it up, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. To his surprise, the sharp sweetness helped ease the nausea. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference for a while.
That evening, as Andrew stared at his laptop, a nurse knocked on his door.
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She carried a small paper bag. “This is for you,” she said, placing it on the table. “Tommy sent it.”
Andrew opened the bag and found it full of peppermint candies. He shook his head, unsure whether to feel amused or moved.
The next morning, he decided to find Tommy. He needed to make one thing clear: the money wasn’t a gift.
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As he approached Tommy’s room, he saw a woman leaning against the wall, her shoulders shaking. She was crying.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, his voice low.
The woman wiped her eyes quickly and looked up. “Yes… Did you need something?”
“Tommy gave me some candies yesterday,” Andrew said.
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The woman’s lips curved into a small smile. “Oh, so you’re Mr. Grouch,” she said.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “My name’s Andrew,” he replied.
“I’m Sara,” she said. “Are you here for treatment too?”
Andrew nodded.
“Then you understand,” Sara said quietly. “The bills, the stress. I can’t even pay rent right now. They told me we’ll be evicted in two months.”
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Andrew nodded again, unsure of what to say. Before he could respond, the door burst open. Tommy ran out, his face lighting up when he saw Andrew. “Hey, Mr. Grouch!” he called, grinning ear to ear.
From that day forward, Tommy became a constant presence in Andrew’s life.
The boy would wander into Andrew’s room with a big grin and endless energy. At first, Andrew found it annoying, but Tommy’s persistence wore him down.
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Soon, Andrew began looking forward to the visits. Tommy taught him to notice the simple joys in life.
They sat by the window, watching the sunset, guessing the colors in the sky. They played harmless pranks on nurses, earning scolding looks and stifled smiles.
Sometimes, they “borrowed” wheelchairs and raced down the halls, laughing until their sides hurt.
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Andrew didn’t ask about Tommy’s illness. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. One afternoon, Tommy mentioned Sara had been crying again. “She’s worried about money,” Tommy said. “We might lose our house.”
Andrew quietly gave Tommy an envelope of cash. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When Sara tried to return the money, Andrew waved her off. “I’m not a magician,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from.”
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Weeks passed. Andrew’s treatments worked, and the day came when the doctor gave him the news—he was cancer-free.
Ecstatic, Andrew rushed to share it with Tommy. But when he arrived, Tommy was unconscious, Sara sitting beside him, tears streaming down her face.
“What happened?” Andrew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Sara wiped her eyes and shook her head. “The doctors said there’s nothing more they can do.”
Andrew stared at her, struggling to process the words. “But… he seemed so happy. He always smiled. I thought he was improving.”
Sara looked at him, her face full of pain. “He didn’t want you to see how sick he was. He wanted to be strong for you. He thought he was a superhero.”
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Andrew’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
Sara managed a faint smile through her tears. “Don’t be. He said you saved him. These months, you gave him laughter and hope. You made him forget about being sick.”
Andrew shook his head slowly. “No. He’s the one who saved me.”
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He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. She cried quietly against his shoulder, and though Andrew wished he could take her pain away, he knew nothing would ever truly ease it.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of his mother and the memories he had made.
Andrew sat alone in his room afterward, overwhelmed by the loss. Andrew couldn’t bear the thought of such a bright soul being forgotten.
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Determined, he started a foundation in Tommy’s name to help sick children, ensuring his kindness would live on.
He also stayed in touch with Sara, offering her support in every way he could.
One afternoon, Andrew stood at his ex-wife’s door, holding the painting she had demanded for so long. She opened the door, her mouth ready to hurl accusations, but Andrew silently handed her the painting.
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“I’m not here to argue,” Andrew said, his tone calm as he held out the painting.
His ex-wife frowned, puzzled. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” Andrew replied, a small smile forming. “I’m just making sure I keep my superpowers.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Taking care of Mom was hard enough without the tension with my sister. Accusations flew when precious things started disappearing. I thought I knew who was to blame, but the truth shattered my world. Betrayal came from where I least expected, leaving me questioning everything—and everyone—I trusted.
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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