A woman sitting in her house | Source: Midjourney
That summer morning in my kitchen, staring at an anonymous letter, I felt something entirely different. I think it was hope mixed with a little bit of terror.
My hands trembled as I read those five words again, “They’re not really gone.”
The crisp white paper felt like it was burning my fingers. I thought I’d been managing my grief, trying to create a stable life for my grandkids, Andy and Peter, after losing my daughter, Monica, and her husband, Stephen. But this note made me realize how wrong I was.
Two brothers playing with toys | Source: Pexels
They got into an accident two years ago. I still remember how Andy and Peter kept asking me where their parents were and when they’d return.
It took me so many months to make them understand their mom and dad would never return. It broke my heart as I told them they’d have to manage things on their own now, and that I’d be there for them whenever they needed their parents.
After all the hard work I’d put in, I received this anonymous letter that claimed Monica and Stephan were still alive.
An envelope | Source: Pexels
“They’re… not really gone?” I whispered to myself, sinking into my kitchen chair. “What kind of sick game is this?”
I had crumpled the paper and was about to throw it away when my phone buzzed.
It was my credit card company, alerting me to a charge on Monica’s old card. The one I’d kept active just to hold onto a piece of her.
“How is that even possible?” I whispered. “I’ve had this card for two years. How can someone use it when it’s been sitting in the drawer?”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I immediately called the bank’s customer support helpline.
“Hello, this is Billy speaking. How may I help you?” the customer service representative answered.
“Hi. I, uh, wanted to verify this recent transaction on my daughter’s card,” I said.
“Of course. May I have the first six and last four digits of the card number and your relationship to the account holder?” Billy asked.
I gave him the details, explaining, “I’m her mother. She… passed away two years ago, and I’ve been managing her remaining accounts.”
An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
There was a pause on the line, and then Billy spoke carefully. “I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am. I don’t see a transaction on this card. The one you’re talking about has been made using a virtual card linked to the account.”
“A virtual card?” I asked, frowning. “But I never linked one to this account. How can a virtual card be active when I have the physical card here?”
“Virtual cards are separate from the physical card, so they can continue to function independently unless deactivated. Would you like me to cancel the virtual card for you?” Billy asked gently.
A customer care representative | Source: Pexels
“No, no,” I managed to speak. I didn’t want to cancel the card thinking Monica must’ve activated it when she was alive. “Please leave it active. Could you tell me when the virtual card was created?”
There was a pause as he checked. “It was activated a week before the date you mentioned your daughter passed.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “Thank you, Billy. That’ll be all for now.”
Then, I called my closest friend Ella. I told her about the strange letter and the transaction on Monica’s card.
An older woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
“That’s impossible,” Ella gasped. “Could it be a mistake?”
“It’s like someone wants me to believe Monica and Stephan are out there somewhere, just hiding. But why would they… why would anyone do that?”
The charge wasn’t large. It was just $23.50 at a local coffee shop. Part of me wanted to visit the shop and find out more about the transaction, but part of me was afraid I’d find out something I wasn’t supposed to know.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I thought I’d look into this matter on the weekend, but what happened on Saturday turned my world upside down.
Andy and Peter wanted to go to the beach on Saturday, so I took them there. Ella had agreed to meet us there to help me look after the kids.
The ocean breeze carried the salt spray as the children splashed in the shallow waves, their laughter echoing across the sand. It was the first time in ages I’d heard them so carefree.
A kid standing near a sand castle | Source: Pexels
Ella lounged on her beach towel beside me, both of us watching the kids play.
I was showing her the anonymous letter when I heard Andy shout.
“Grandma, look!” he grabbed Peter’s hand, pointing toward the beachfront café. “That’s our mom and dad!”
My heart stopped. There, barely thirty feet away, sat a woman with Monica’s dyed hair and graceful posture, leaning toward a man who could easily ihave been Stephan’s twin.
They were sharing a plate of fresh fruit.
A plate of sliced fruits | Source: Pexels
“Please, watch them for a bit,” I said to Ella, urgency making my voice crack. She agreed without question, though concern filled her eyes.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I told the boys. “You can sunbathe here. Stay close to Ella, okay?”
The kids nodded and I turned toward the couple in the café.
My heart skipped a beat as they stood and walked down a narrow path lined with sea oats and wild roses. My feet moved of their own accord, following at a distance.
An older woman’s shoes | Source: Midjourney
They walked close together, whispering, and occasionally laughing. The woman tucked her hair behind her ear exactly like Monica always had. The man had Stephan’s slight limp from his college football injury.
Then I heard them talk.
“It’s risky, but we had no choice, Emily,” the man said.
Emily? I thought. Why is he calling her Emily?
They turned down a shell-lined path toward a cottage covered in flowering grapevines.
“I know,” the woman sighed. “But I miss them… especially the boys.”
A woman standing outdoors | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden fence surrounding the cottage, my knuckles white.
It is you, I thought. But why… why would you do this?
Once they went inside the cottage, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. The dispatcher listened patiently as I explained the impossible situation.
I stayed by the fence and listened for more proof. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
Finally, gathering every ounce of courage I possessed, I approached the cottage door and rang the doorbell.
For a moment, there was silence, then footsteps approached.
A doorknob | Source: Pexels
The door swung open, and there stood my daughter. Her face drained of color as she recognized me.
“Mom?” she gasped. “What… how did you find us?”
Before I could respond, Stephan appeared behind her. Then, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.
“How could you?” My voice trembled with rage and grief. “How could you leave your own children behind? Do you have any idea what you put us through?”
The police cars pulled up, and two officers approached quickly but cautiously.
A police car | Source: Pexels
“I think we’ll need to ask some questions,” one said, looking between us. “This… this is not something we see every day.”
Monica and Stephan, who had changed their names to Emily and Anthony, spilled out their story in bits and pieces.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Monica said, her voice wavering. “We were… we were drowning, you know? The debts, the loan sharks… they kept coming, demanding more. We tried everything, but it just got worse.”
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
Stephan sighed. “They didn’t just want money. They were threatening us, and we didn’t want to drag the kids into the mess we created.”
Monica continued, tears trickling down her cheeks. “We thought if we left, we’d be giving the kids a better, more stable life. We thought they’d be better off without us. Leaving them behind was the hardest thing we ever did.”
They confessed that they had staged the accident to look like they’d fallen off a cliff into the river, hoping the police would soon stop searching and they’d be presumed dead.
A man standing in a house | Source: Midjourney
They explained how they moved to another town to start fresh and had even changed their names.
“But I couldn’t stop thinking about my babies,” Monica admitted. “I needed to see them, so we rented this cottage for a week, just to be close to them.”
My heart broke as I listened to their story, but anger simmered beneath my sympathy. I couldn’t help but believe there had to be a better way to deal with the loan sharks.
An older woman | Source: Midjourney
Once they confessed everything, I texted Ella our location, and soon her car pulled up with Andy and Peter. The children burst out, and their faces lit up with joy as they recognized their parents.
“Mom! Dad!” they shouted, running toward their parents. “You’re here! We knew you’d come back!”
Monica looked at them and tears welled up in her eyes. She was meeting her kids after two years.
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, my sweet boys… I missed you so much. I’m so sorry,” she said, hugging them.
I watched the scene unfold, whispering to myself, “But at what cost, Monica? What have you done?”
The police allowed the brief reunion before pulling Monica and Stephen aside. The senior officer turned to me with sympathy in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but they could face some serious charges here. They’ve broken a lot of laws.”
“And my grandchildren?” I asked, watching Andy and Peter’s confused faces as their parents were separated from them again. “How do I explain any of this to them? They’re just kids.”
A worried older woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s something you’ll have to decide,” he said gently. “But the truth is bound to come out eventually.”
Later that night, after tucking the children into bed, I sat alone in my living room. The anonymous letter lay on the coffee table before me, its message now holding a different kind of weight.
I picked it up, reading those five words one more time, “They’re not really gone.”
I still didn’t know who had sent it, but they were right.
A woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Monica and Stephan weren’t gone. They’d chosen to leave. And somehow, that felt worse than knowing they weren’t alive.
“I don’t know if I can protect the kids from the sadness,” I whispered to the quiet room, “but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”
Now, I sometimes feel I shouldn’t have called the cops. Part of me thinks I could’ve let my daughter live the life she wanted, but part of me wanted her to realize what she did was wrong.
Do you think I did the right thing by calling the cops? What would you have done if you were in my place?
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: While Claire is dropping her kids off at summer camp, she gets a devastating phone call. Her 67-year-old mother, an Alzheimer’s patient, is missing. After three days of looking for Edith, police officers bring her home, and only then does the old woman reveal a horrible truth about Claire’s husband.
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.
I’m 18 and obsessed with using sunbeds… but people online are saying I look “burnt to a crisp.”
Megan Blain, an 18-year-old who’s hooked on sunbeds, says she won’t stop tanning, even though online trolls are constantly insulting her. They’ve compared her skin to a “dirty 2p coin,” but she feels stuck in a tanning habit she can’t break.
Megan, from Seaham, County Durham, started using sunbeds at 16 to keep a tan all year. She ditched fake tan products for daily sunbed sessions and even began using tanning injections to get a darker glow. Although she didn’t know much about the risks, she spent up to 30 minutes on sunbeds, sometimes using baby oil to boost the effect.
Teenager Megan Blain, 18, has admitted to being addicted to sunbeds, despite facing harsh criticism online and noticing concerning changes to her skin
Megan said, “I liked how I looked with a tan. I wear bright colors, and the tan made them stand out more. Once I saw how good it looked, I started going to the sunbeds more often.”
But her intense tanning routine has raised health concerns. Megan now admits she’s addicted and has tried to cut back on sunbed use.
She also says the tanning injections make her feel sick, and she’s noticed a strange patch on her skin that changes size. Even though she’s scared it could be cancer, she hasn’t stopped tanning yet. Megan has tried to go to the doctor several times but gets too nervous to go inside.
“I’m the type of person who worries about everything, so it’s strange that I’m not more worried about this patch. I know it could be melanoma, but I still use sunbeds, which shows it’s an addiction. I never feel dark enough,” she explained.
She says she’s stuck in a cycle of overusing sunbeds and taking injections that make her feel sick and unable to eat. She used to go every day, but now she goes about four times a week.
Despite getting negative attention from strangers, with some saying she looks like a “burnt chip” or a “cremated” version of herself, Megan still can’t imagine life without tanning beds.
Megan said, “Everywhere I go, people stare at me. When they say I’m dark, I don’t believe them. I don’t feel dark at all, like I can’t see it myself.”
She admits she wants to stop using sunbeds one day, but she can’t imagine quitting. “I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone because you could get addicted without even realizing it, like I did,” she warned.
Megan has tried to cut down, now only using sunbeds four times a week, and she’s using her TikTok platform to warn younger people about the dangers of sunbed addiction. She’s especially worried because more young people seem to be using sunbeds than older ones, and she knows how easy it is to get hooked.
However, Megan has also faced online trolls who make fun of her tan. Some compare her to “burnt chips” or say her skin looks like a dirty “2p coin.” One person even asked if the sunbeds “cremated” her.
While Megan’s views on tanning have changed, she still struggles to break her habit of using UV lights.
Megan said, “After two years, I’ve changed my mind about sunbeds. If I could go back, I’d never start. Now, it’s not even about wanting to be tan anymore—I just feel like I have to use them.”
She explained that once she’s on the sunbed, it’s hard to turn it off. “I don’t even like using them anymore, I actually dread it, but I feel like I physically can’t stop.”
Another tanning addict, Fionnghuala Maguire, 35, from Belfast, shared her story, saying she feels “lucky to be alive” after using sunbeds almost every day for 15 years. She started at 14 and never used sunscreen during that time. Fionnghuala is now warning others not to make the same mistake, having been hooked on tanning and going to salons up to seven days a week at the height of her addiction.
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