A bus driver mocks a breastfeeding mom on his bus and is surprised to see her being greeted by his son at the next stop. Moreover, the son is unexpectedly in a wheelchair.
Keith was behind the wheel, ferrying passengers across the city, when a young lady with a baby boarded the bus. Keith’s lips curled into a sly smirk.
Babies were too unpredictable and could start bawling at any moment. So nothing was worse to Keith than putting up with the baby’s loud cries during rush hour.
As the lady occupied a vacant seat with her toddler, Keith grumbled. “That should stop the child from whining,” he frowned…
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When a stop light arrived, and Keith turned around to check how many people were aboard, he saw the lady breastfeeding her baby. His anger flared, and his cheeks turned crimson red. “Hey, Lady! You can’t do that here!” he yelled.
“Why, of course, I can! I’m nursing my baby,” the mother responded.
Keith looked around at the others and was unsettled. The traffic light turned green, and he started driving, expressing his disapproval of the woman feeding her child.
“Disgusting! Kids think they’re entitled to everything and just display their breasts in front of complete strangers,” Keith mumbled loudly.
Keith’s murmurs intensified as the woman adjusted to cover up her chest. “Youngsters lack respect for others. Since when did breastfeeding in public become the norm?”
The lady overheard everything, and Keith’s discomfort persisted, echoing through the bus.
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A few men near Keith joined in taking a dig at the woman. Keith chuckled, and the mocking continued. “Like I said, no decency! Where’s her husband? Why didn’t anyone in her life teach her some self-respect?” he added.
The woman finished feeding her child and prepared to leave. As the bus doors opened, Keith’s gaze shifted to a man in a wheelchair waiting for her, and his jaw dropped.
“DANIEL?” he gasped, recognizing his son, who was now in a wheelchair. It was only the second time he’d ever seen him. Daniel was perfectly alright seven years ago, and Keith couldn’t understand what had happened to him.
His anxiety surged even more when he realized the woman he had insulted for the last half hour was his daughter-in-law. And the baby…his grandson. Keith’s heart cracked again.
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“Are you going to drive, old man?” a youngster in the back yelled, snapping Keith out of his reverie.
Keith turned around, trying his best to get his job done. But it wasn’t easy, especially when the vision of his life 22 years ago came flashing back into his mind…
“Honey, I’m home,” Keith gleefully cried out to his girlfriend, Sarah. “Ummm! That tastes delicious!” he exclaimed, gobbling a spoonful of pasta.
“I can’t do it, Keith,” she rose. “I want to have this baby.”
“I thought we agreed. You know we’re not ready for a baby yet,” he sighed.
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“I’m already 15 weeks along,” Sarah brushed her belly. “I want this baby. I love him. I…I’m sorry…I can’t.”
Keith was worried now. He tried to explain to Sarah that their one-bedroom flat in the secluded part of town and their minimum wage salaries wouldn’t be enough to raise a baby. But she stood her ground.
“Fine!” Keith eventually agreed. “We’ll figure out something.”
Deep inside, he was haunted by what to do all evening. And that’s when he remembered his best friend, Victor, and left for the pub to meet him.
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“Keith! Where the hell have you been, man?” Victor exclaimed as soon as Keith walked through the door of their favorite bar. They often hung out there, but Keith had refrained from nights out after moving in with Sarah.
“And how’s your girl?” Victor said, downing a drink.
“She’s good, man,” Keith nodded, licking his dry lips. “Is there any job for me…with you? Look, man, I’m ready to do anything. Please…talk to your boss Mr. Abraham. I’m good with cars…”
Keith knew the stakes were high but took up a job pretty soon. Hotwiring a car in less than a minute and stealing parts was a cakewalk for Keith, and soon, money started rolling in.
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Keith and Sarah eventually moved to a new area only a month after he started his new job. They were doing exceptionally well, and one night, when he arrived home, he found Sarah crying on the couch.
“The cops were here, Keith. They asked terrifying questions about you and Victor…and some Mr. Abraham… Why are the cops after you?” she asked.
A lump rose in Keith’s throat. “It’s better if you don’t know,” he said as Sarah’s worst fears were confirmed.
“Jesus! Are you in a gang, Keith? Wha—what if you get arrested? What’s gonna happen to me and our baby if you go down?” She cried.
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“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Keith pressed Sarah’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Really, Keith? You think the cops will spare you?”
Keith’s anger boiled over. “For God’s sake, Sarah! Can’t you see why I’m doing this? I had to bring more money…I’m doing all this for us!”
“Please, stop it,” Sarah cried her heart out, begging Keith to quit his illegal gig and return to the normal, simple life they once lived.
“We need MONEY to live!” he yelled.
“You can make that MONEY by doing something else…NOT THIS!” Sarah shot back as she cried, squinting her eyes. “The baby kicked…Ow!”
Keith calmed down as he cupped her face and looked into her eyes. “Look, babe, I have this huge gig coming up. It could set us up for life. I can’t give up in the middle. I want to give our son everything,” he said.
Sarah’s face contorted. “If you don’t quit this job, you’ll never be able to get out of it. The cops are after you…do you even realize that?”
“Sarah, this is my chance. I don’t want to return to some stupid low-wage job, okay? This is beyond my control. I used to feel low. But now, I have everything they said I could never have.”
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Sarah’s gaze lowered as she clutched her belly tight. “I don’t think this is gonna work out, Keith. You’re not the man I loved,” she sobbed.
“Oh, c’mon! How convenient, Sarah,” Keith lashed out at her expletively. “You enjoyed the money I made…What’s wrong now? Like it or not, I’m not quitting,” he declared, storming out of the room.
It was early morning when Keith returned home from another successful score. “Honey, look…I’m sorry. Things got a bit intense last night…Sarah?” He called out to her over and over.
But still no answer. So Keith hurried to their bedroom, wondering if she was sick or still sleeping, only to find it empty.
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Keith grew anxious as he rang Sarah’s number. But all his calls landed in voicemail. He rummaged through the closet and noticed some of her clothes were gone. All the onesies were missing from the nursery. “Sarah?” Keith panicked and ran around the house, but she was nowhere to be found.
They didn’t have many friends, so Keith thought Victor or the rest of his gang could help find her. Just as Keith frantically pressed the call button on Victor’s number, a loud knock on the front door jolted him.
“Police! Open the door, Mr. Griffith. We know you’re in there,” a cop yelled and banged on the door. “We have an arrest warrant.”
“Argh!” Keith held his head, knowing there was no escape now.
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Keith was arrested and sentenced to 20 years. However, he was released on parole after 15 years owing to good conduct. He didn’t go back to Victor or Mr. Abraham, and all he wanted was to find Sarah and their baby.
Keith tracked down their address and eagerly raced to a suburban area several miles west of their old neighborhood. The beautiful houses and picturesque landscapes pleased his eyes. This was the kind of place he wanted to live with Sarah and their son.
Finally, Keith made it closer to Sarah’s house, and just as he was about to enter the gate, an SUV drove past him. A well-dressed man got down as Keith stood puzzled. “Did I get the address wrong? But the mailbox shows the same number…”
“DAD!” a boy’s voice startled him. Keith looked up, his heart pounding in his chest, and a smile formed on his face.
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Keith’s heart shattered to a million pieces when he saw a teen boy bolting from the front door toward the stranger who had just gotten down from the SUV. And Sarah emerged from the doorway. “Guys, dinner is ready! Hurry!” she chuckled.
“Dad, let’s go,” the boy chirped. “Mom made spaghetti!”
“You’re right, Daniel! Let’s hurry!” Keith watched as the man wrapped his hand around the boy’s shoulder, and they walked inside the house. It could mean only one thing—he was the boy’s stepfather who had taken Keith’s rightful place in Sarah’s and their son’s lives.
Heartbroken, Keith decided to turn around and leave. But he wanted to see how happy they were together. He secretly peeked through the window and saw the teen and his stepdad cheering for a baseball game on TV. Sarah was sitting beside them and looked as beautiful as ever.
As the street lights turned on, Keith gathered his bits and pieces and walked away.
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A blaring horn in the distance snapped Keith to reality as tears rolled down his cheeks. He finished his last route for the night, and the thought of seeing Daniel in a wheelchair broke his heart again. “What happened to my boy? He was fine when I saw him seven years ago…” Keith wondered.
A few days later, he drove to the same address he last saw Sarah and Daniel to find out. He pulled over outside a neighboring house and waited nervously until a knock on his side window startled him.
“Hey, who are you? Why’s your car parked outside my compound? If you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops,” an older lady barked at him.
Keith stepped down from his car with a start. “No, please, ma’am. I just wanted to go there…”
“Go where?” she raised her hands and growled.
“Over there…to that house. I want to meet Sarah and Daniel. I haven’t seen her in years,” Keith clarified.
“Oh, dear,” the older lady’s voice softened. “Don’t you know what happened?”
“Yeah?” Keith’s forehead wrinkled with unease.
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“Sarah and her husband died last year,” the older woman revealed. “Their son Daniel lives with his wife and baby there.”
“WHAT? NO!” Keith’s eyes bulged with shock.
“Car accident. Daniel luckily survived because he was in the backseat. But he can’t walk,” the lady added. “It’s so sad. I saw that boy grow up. They were such a lovely family. And his baby…he won’t ever see his grandparents.”
Keith thanked the woman and regretfully walked past her, heading straight to the front door. He knew it was time to step up and face his son, no matter what. Keith adjusted his voice and sighed deeply before knocking on the door. It creaked open moments later, and Daniel rolled his wheelchair closer.
“Yes?” He looked up at Keith.
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A spoiled rich teen thought he could get away with insulting a flight attendant. However, his dad, who was watching everything from behind, decides to teach his arrogant kid an unforgettable lesson.
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I Returned Home from Work to Find My Adopted Twin Daughters, 16, Had Changed the Locks and Kicked Me Out
Thirteen years ago, I adopted my late husband’s secret twin daughters after his fatal car crash revealed his double life. I gave them everything, but at sixteen, they locked me out of my home. One week later, I discovered the shocking reason for their actions.
The morning Andrew died began like any other. The sun had just started peeking through my window, painting everything in a soft, golden light that made even my shabby countertops look almost magical.
It was the last normal moment I’d have for a long, long time.
When the phone rang, I almost didn’t answer it. Who calls at 7:30 in the morning? But something, intuition maybe, made me pick up.
“Is this Ruth?” A man’s voice, formal, hesitant.
“Speaking.” I took another sip of coffee, still watching the steam dance.
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Matthews with the Police Department. I’m sorry to inform you, but your husband was in an accident this morning. He didn’t survive.”
The mug slipped from my hand, shattering against the linoleum. Coffee splashed across my bare feet, but I barely felt it. “What? No, that’s… no… not my Andrew!”
“Ma’am…” The officer’s voice softened. “There’s more you need to know. There was another woman in the car who also died… and two surviving daughters. Records in our database confirm they’re Andrew’s children.”
I slid down the kitchen cabinet until I hit the floor, barely registering the coffee soaking into my robe.
The room spun around me as ten years of marriage shattered like my coffee mug. “Children?”
“Twin girls, ma’am. They’re three years old.”
Three years old. Three years of lies, of business trips and late meetings. Three years of another family living parallel to mine, just out of sight. The jerk had been living a whole other life while I’d been suffering through infertility treatments and the heartache of two miscarriages.
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I was. Not really. “What… what happens to them now?”
“Their mother had no living relatives. They’re currently in emergency foster care until—”
I hung up. I couldn’t bear to hear more.
The funeral was a blur of black clothes and pitying looks. I stood there like a statue, accepting condolences from people who didn’t know whether to treat me like a grieving widow or a scorned woman.
But then I saw those two tiny figures in matching black dresses, holding hands so tightly their knuckles were white. My husband’s secret daughters.
One had her thumb in her mouth. The other was picking at the hem of her dress. They looked so lost and alone. Despite the hurt of Andrew’s betrayal, my heart went out to them.
“Those poor things,” my mother whispered beside me. “Their foster family couldn’t make it today. Can you imagine? No one here for them except the social worker.”
I watched as one twin stumbled, and her sister caught her automatically like they were two parts of the same person. Something in my chest cracked open.
“I’ll take them,” I heard myself say.
Mom turned to me, shocked.
“Ruth, honey, you can’t be serious. After what he did?”
“Look at them, Mom. They’re innocent in all this and they’re alone.”
“But—”
“I couldn’t have my own children. Maybe… maybe this is why.”
The adoption process was a nightmare of paperwork and questioning looks.
Why would I want my cheating husband’s secret children? Was I mentally stable enough? Was this some form of revenge?
But I kept fighting, and eventually, Carrie and Dana became mine.
Those first years were a dance of healing and hurting. The girls were sweet but wary as if waiting for me to change my mind. I’d catch them whispering to each other late at night, making plans for “when she sends us away.”
It broke my heart every time.
“We’re having mac and cheese again?” seven-year-old Dana asked one night, her nose wrinkled.
“It’s what we can afford this week, sweetie,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “But look — I put extra cheese on yours, just how you like it.”
Carrie, always the more sensitive one, must have heard something in my voice. She elbowed her sister.
“Mac and cheese is my favorite,” she announced, though I knew it wasn’t.
By the time they turned ten, I knew I had to tell them the truth. The whole truth.
I’d practiced the words a hundred times in front of my bathroom mirror, but sitting there on my bed, watching their innocent faces, I felt like I might throw up.
“Girls,” I started, my hands trembling. “There’s something about your father and how you came to be my daughters that you need to know.”
They sat cross-legged on my faded quilt, mirror images of attention.
I told them everything about Andrew’s double life, their birth mother, and that terrible morning I got the call. I told them how my heart broke when I saw them at the funeral and how I knew then that we were meant to be together.
The silence that followed felt endless. Dana’s face had gone pale, her freckles standing out like dots of paint. Carrie’s lower lip trembled.
“So… so Dad was a liar?” Dana’s voice cracked. “He was cheating on you?”
“And our real mom…” Carrie wrapped her arms around herself. “She died because of him?”
“It was an accident, sweetheart. A terrible accident.”
“But you…” Dana’s eyes narrowed, something hard and horrible creeping into her young face. “You just took us? Like… like some kind of consolation prize?”
“No! I took you because—”
“Because you felt sorry for us?” Carrie interrupted, tears streaming now. “Because you couldn’t have your own kids?”
“I took you because I loved you the moment I saw you,” I reached for them, but they both flinched back. “You weren’t a consolation prize. You were a gift.”
“Liar!” Dana spat, jumping off the bed. “Everyone’s a liar! Come on, Carrie!”
They ran to their room and slammed the door. I heard the lock click, followed by muffled sobs and furious whispers.
The next few years were a minefield. Sometimes we’d have good days when we went on shopping trips or cuddled together on the sofa for movie nights. But whenever they got angry, the knives came out.
“At least our real mom wanted us from the start!”
“Maybe she’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you!”
Each barb found its mark with surgical precision. But they were entering their teens, so I weathered their storms, hoping they’d understand someday.
Then came that awful day shortly after the girls turned sixteen.
I came home from work and my key wouldn’t turn in the lock. Then I spotted the note taped to the door.
“We’re adults now. We need our own space. Go and live with your mom!” it read.
My suitcase sat by the door like a coffin for all my hopes. Inside, I could hear movement, but no one answered my calls or pounding. I stood there for an hour before climbing back into my car.
At Mom’s house, I paced like a caged animal.
“They’re acting out,” she said, watching me wear a path in her carpet. “Testing your love.”
“What if it’s more than that?” I stared at my silent phone. “What if they’ve finally decided I’m not worth it? That I’m just the woman who took them in out of pity?”
“Ruth, you stop that right now.” Mom grabbed my shoulders.
“You’ve been their mother in every way that matters for thirteen years. They’re hurting, yes. They’re angry about things neither of you can change. But they love you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because they’re acting exactly like you did at sixteen.” She smiled sadly. “Remember when you ran away to Aunt Sarah’s?”
I did. I’d been so angry about… what was it? Something trivial. I’d lasted three days before homesickness drove me back.
Five more days crawled by.
I called in sick to work. I barely ate. Every time my phone buzzed, I lunged for it, only to be disappointed by another spam call or a text from a concerned friend.
Then, finally, on the seventh day, I got the call I’d longed for.
“Mom?” Carrie’s voice was small and soft, like when she used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. “Can you come home? Please?”
I drove back with my heart in my throat.
The last thing I expected when I rushed through the front door was to find my house transformed. Fresh paint coated the walls, and the floors gleamed.
“Surprise!” The girls appeared from the kitchen, grinning like they used to when they were little.
“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dana explained, bouncing on her toes. “Working at the mall, babysitting, saving everything.”
“Sorry for the mean note,” Carrie added sheepishly. “It was the only way we could think of to keep it a surprise.”
They led me to what used to be their nursery, now transformed into a beautiful home office. The walls were soft lavender, and there, by the window, hung a photo of the three of us on adoption day, all teary-eyed and smiling.
“You gave us a family, Mom,” Carrie whispered, her eyes wet. “Even though you didn’t have to, even though we were a reminder of everything that hurt. You chose us anyway, and you’ve been the best mom ever.”
I pulled my girls close, breathing in the familiar smell of their shampoo, feeling their hearts beat against mine.
“You two are the best things that have ever happened to me. You gave me a reason to keep going. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“But we do know, Mom,” Dana said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “We’ve always known.”
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