The flight attendant approached me and requested, “Please remain seated after we land; the pilot would like to speak with you personally.”

I thought my big business trip to LA was going to be just another day until a mysterious request from the pilot left me questioning everything I knew about my past. The truth he shared would alter my future in ways I never imagined.

My flight to Los Angeles was supposed to be a smooth one, but what happened during that two-hour journey changed my life forever. But before I tell you about it, let me share why I had to reach LA that day.

So, I work as an architect at a well-known construction firm, and this is my dream job. Let me tell you, it wasn’t good luck that brought me here. It was my hard work and all those sleepless nights I spent in college upgrading my skills and learning new concepts.

Recently, my boss gave me an opportunity to present a big project to some of our top investors in Los Angeles.

It was a HUGE thing because it could lead to a long-awaited promotion, so I happily accepted the opportunity.

Honestly, I felt so grateful for it because it was also a chance to make my mom, Melissa, proud. She’s my best friend, and that’s mainly because she has raised me as a single parent. She told me my father passed away before I was born, but she never stopped me from chasing my dreams. Mom’s always been there to support me, and I love her for that.

So, when I told her about the meeting in LA, she hugged me and said, “Go get ’em, sweetie! I’ll be praying for you.”

The time flew by at the airport, and soon I found myself comfortably seated on the plane, ready to take off. The flight attendants were all so welcoming, and I lucked out with an empty seat next to me!

As the plane began to ascend, I couldn’t help but feel excited. I was well-prepared for my presentation, hoping the investors would like it.

A few minutes into the flight, a friendly-looking flight attendant named Bethany approached me with a tray of drinks.

“Can I get you something to sip on?” she asked with a smile.

“Just orange juice, please,” I replied, raising my hand to accept the glass. As I did, Bethany glanced down at the birthmark on my wrist.

“I’m sorry, could I have your passport, please?” she asked suddenly.

Well, that’s strange, I thought.

Confused but not wanting to argue, I handed it over. Bethany looked it over carefully before returning it with a nod.

“Just a standard protocol check. Thank you!”

Sounds cool.

A short while later, Bethany returned to my seat.

“Excuse me, will you be in a rush after we land?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got a connecting flight to catch and I’m already running late,” I explained as I subconsciously clasped my hands together.

“Well, the pilot wants to speak with you after we land.”

“The pilot?” I asked. “Why? Can’t he just talk to me now?”

“I’m afraid not,” Bethany replied in a serious tone. “He wants to talk to you in person. I know you’re in a hurry, but trust me, you’ll want to hear this. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I sat there, utterly perplexed.

What on earth could the pilot possibly need to tell me? And why did it have to wait until after we landed? My big meeting was hanging in the balance, and I didn’t want to risk missing my connection. But Bethany’s insistence made me feel like this was something important.

As the plane touched down and the other passengers began filing out, I steeled myself and waited patiently for the pilot to approach.

When the cabin was finally empty, a tall man with graying hair entered, his eyes immediately locking onto mine.

At that point, I literally dropped my bag and jacket. My jaw just about hit the floor because I could’ve sworn I had seen this man before.

I instantly recognized him from old photos my mom had shown me. This was Steve, her childhood friend.

But the man didn’t look happy to see me.

In fact, tears were streaming down his face as he threw his arms around me in a tight embrace. I stood there, completely bewildered, as he sobbed into my shoulder.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a shaky voice. “What happened?”

He pulled away, gazing at me with red-rimmed eyes. Then, he gently took my hand and revealed a birthmark on his wrist. It was an exact match to the one on mine.

“Courtney,” he choked out, “I’m your father.”

“Wait, what?” I looked at him with eyes wide open. “My father? But Mom said…”

MY MIL SPENT $200 ON A HALLOWEEN COSTUME FOR HER AND HER DOG

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her prancing around in her elaborate witch costume, complete with a matching mini-hat and cape for *Charlie*—her beloved Shih Tzu. And don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween as much as the next person, but she dropped **five hundred dollars** on these costumes. Five hundred. Dollars. For a matching ensemble with her *dog.*

Meanwhile, here we are, carefully budgeting for groceries and figuring out how to make the most of our paycheck for the month. Yet she’s out here treating this dog like her soulmate, her little partner in crime. She even mentioned planning a photoshoot so they can have “memories of this year’s theme.” Memories?! For a dog?!

Then it hit me: she actually *does* treat him like a family member. She’s constantly calling Charlie her “baby” and talking about how he’s the “only one who truly understands her.” She even joked about putting him in her will once. I thought it was funny at first, but now I’m not so sure it’s a joke.

Now, part of me wants to laugh it off, but the other part can’t help but feel a bit resentful. Is it crazy to think there’s something a little… off here? Like, it’s fine to have fun with Halloween, but at what cost? I can’t help but feel like all this is masking something deeper—maybe she’s lonely, or maybe it’s just a quirky obsession. But no matter how I try to see it, I can’t shake the feeling that her priorities are, well, *somewhere else entirely.*

So, am I overreacting here, or does this seem just as absurd to you as it does to me? Because I can’t help but wonder what will happen next. I’m just waiting for the day she announces a full-blown dog wedding, and I’ll be expected to RSVP.

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