Yeah, that woman cannot stand me.
It all started 7 years ago, after my mom passed away from a cold that just wouldn’t go away. Before I knew it, my dad was seeing Carla, and a year later, he married her.
“Your father doesn’t waste any time, does he?” my aunt sniffed on the day of the wedding. “And who is Carla anyway? She’s nothing compared to your mom!”
Carla was fine at first. I mean, she tried hard to get me on her side. But slowly, the passive-aggressive jabs started piling up. I remember once, I caught her staring at me.
“You look too much like your mother, Emily,” she said. “It actually pains me to look at you. No wonder your father gives Mason more attention. He’s closer to Mason right now, isn’t he?”
I sighed and ignored her, trying not to let her words get to me.
My dad, of course, didn’t notice a thing. It was like he couldn’t—or just wouldn’t—see how Carla treated me. And she loved that. She loved being the only one ready to taunt me.
Anyway, fast forward to prom season. Like every other girl in my class, I was dreaming of the perfect night. I saved up enough babysitting money for months to buy a gorgeous violet dress.
I couldn’t help but wish that my mother was around to spend these moments with me.
But that’s why I chose the violet dress. It was her favorite color.
Prom was going to be my night. I just knew it.
Whenever I thought about it, I just felt like something magical was going to happen at prom. To make myself feel even better, I booked a hair appointment at a fancy salon. All my friends were going there too.
Everything was set.
But then the big day came, and Carla made sure to ruin it.
I went to the salon, all excited, but when I got there, the receptionist looked at me, confused.
“Emily? Are you sure?” she asked, looking at her computer screen. “Zelda told me that you canceled?”
“I didn’t!” I exclaimed. “Why would I? Prom is this evening!”
“Calm down, honey,” the receptionist said. “I’ll get Zelda.”
I waited impatiently while she went to get the hairdresser. Finally, they returned.
The hairdresser looked uncomfortable.
“I got a call earlier today saying that you wanted to cancel your appointment, Emily. I assumed that it was your Mom?”
My heart dropped. Canceled? How? I didn’t cancel it! What mom?
I was still processing everything when I looked over and saw her.
Carla.
Sitting there, getting her hair done. Of course.
She saw me and just smirked, her eyes cold as steel. Carla had canceled my appointment.
“Is there any way that you could still schedule me in?” I asked Zelda.
She shook her head sadly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “When your appointment was canceled, a woman called in and booked her own. All of our slots are taken. I’m sorry, honey.”
I stood there in shock. So, Carla had called pretending to be me? Pretending to be my mom? And then she took my appointment so that she could watch me be disappointed?
Sick.
I barely managed to keep it together as I ran out of the salon, my head spinning. I felt nauseous.
My perfect prom? It was just falling apart around me. By the time I got home, I locked myself in my room, tears pouring down my face.
I sat at my dressing table trying to fix my hair on my own, but nothing looked good. I felt stupid for telling Carla my plans in passing.
See what had happened?
I looked at my dress, hanging off a hanger.
I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to go to prom anymore.
I sat there, looking at my makeup sitting on my dressing table and wondered if it was even worth it. I mean, what was the point? I was already upset and didn’t feel like anything good was going to come from this.
Suddenly, I heard this loud honking outside. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just a random car.
A teenage girl’s dressing table | Source: Midjourney
A teenage girl’s dressing table | Source: Midjourney
But it didn’t stop.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and dragged myself to the window, fully expecting to see commotion on the road. But when I looked out, my jaw dropped.
A glossy black limousine was parked in front of our house.
I thought it was some sort of mistake. There was no way that the car was for me. My friends’ parents had said no when we first talked about it months ago. But still, I ran downstairs.
I stood at the doorway, waiting for something to happen. The driver stepped out and walked up to our front door. My dad, who had been as clueless as ever during all of this, stood on our porch, looking as confused as I felt.
“I’m here for Miss Emily, sir,” the driver said, holding out a small card.
Miss Emily? Me?
“She’s right here,” my dad said, nodding to me.
I hesitantly took the card from my dad’s hand and opened it. Inside, written in neat handwriting, were the words:
To my beautiful sister, Emily. I know you’ve had a rough time lately, but you deserve the best night ever! Enjoy the limo, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ve been saving all my birthday and Christmas money.
Have a magical night, sis.
Love, Mason.
Mason? My 11-year-old brother did this?
I burst into tears all over again, but this time from pure shock and gratitude. I ran upstairs to find Mason in his room, grinning like he’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.
“I heard Mom on the phone this morning,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t a big deal. “I knew that it wasn’t fair at all.”
Turns out that he had overheard Carla canceling my hair appointment, and in true little brother fashion, took matters into his own hands.
“But did you really use your money?” I asked him, feeling horrible.
“Not really,” he grinned. “See, Mom has been saving up money to buy some fancy diamond necklace. She’s been showing Dad the necklace, hoping that he would get it for her. But he said no.”
Good for you, Dad, I thought.
“Anyway, after I heard her phone call, she left home. So, I took some of the money from her stash, and went to Mr. Johnson next door. He owns the limo company, remember?”
But Mason didn’t stop there.
“There’s more, Em,” he said. “Mrs. Evans, from across the road? Her daughter is a stylist at the mall. She’s coming here to do your hair and makeup soon.”
Just as the words left his mouth, the doorbell rang.
“That should be her!” Mason said. “Go wash your face, I’ll send her up.”
When did Mason grow up? I wondered as I did what he said.
Twenty minutes later, I went from crying in my bedroom to looking like a princess. I just wished my mom was around to fuss over me. To take endless photos and tell me how proud she was of me. I wanted a hug from her more than anything.
But still, Mason had saved prom!
When Carla drove into our driveway, I was already outside, stepping into the limo like a movie star. Her jaw dropped. And she got out of the car and just stood there, stunned.
Her face? Oh my God. I wish I had a picture of her expression. I would have stuck it on my mirror!
“Richard? Did you do this?” I heard her shriek to my father before the driver closed the door.
Moments later, the driver whisked me away.
Prom was everything I had hoped for. When I arrived at the hall in the limo, heads turned. I was glowing, and I knew it. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my mom was right there with me.
The whole night was pure magic. Dancing, laughing with my friends, and just forgetting all the drama at home.
As for Carla, I hope she learned a lesson. You can’t mess with someone’s joy and get away with it… especially if your son is going to come in and save the day!
What would you have done?
Isolated Elderly Woman Encounters a Fleeing Child at Midnight Pleading for Shelter
On a frigid evening, elderly Lili encounters a shivering boy named Harry. Desperate and alone, Harry pleads for shelter, and Lili’s compassionate heart cannot refuse. As Harry reveals the horrific conditions of his foster home, Lili takes a brave stand, igniting a journey of rescue and hope.
Lili, an elderly woman with silver hair and kind eyes, walked slowly home late in the evening. The cold night air made her shiver, and she pulled her coat tighter around her.
As she turned the corner, she saw a small figure huddled against a lamppost. It was a young boy, no older than ten, with tousled hair and a thin jacket that did little to protect him from the biting cold.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the boy said, his voice trembling. “Can I come home with you? I have nowhere else to go, and it’s so cold.”
Lili’s heart went out to him. She could see the desperation in his eyes. “Of course, dear,” she said gently. “Let’s get you out of this cold.”
She led Harry, the boy, to her small, cozy home. The warmth inside was a stark contrast to the freezing night outside.
Lili guided Harry to a chair by the fireplace, where he could warm up. She bustled around the kitchen, quickly preparing some cookies and a hot beverage.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” she said, handing him a plate of freshly baked cookies and a steaming cup of cocoa. Harry’s eyes lit up as he took a bite, savoring the warmth and sweetness.
As they sat by the fire, Lili picked up the phone and called the police, wanting to ensure Harry’s safety. While they waited, Harry began to open up.
“I live in a foster home,” he said quietly. “There are too many of us in a small room.” His voice quivered as he spoke.
Harry told her everything he could. He even tried to tell Lili where the house was so she could help other kids.
“Oh, my dear,” Lili said softly, her heart breaking for him. “No child should have to go through that.”
When the police arrived, Harry clung to Lili’s hand, not wanting to leave. She knelt down to his level, her eyes filled with warmth and reassurance.
“Harry, you need to go with them now,” she said gently. “But don’t worry. I’ll visit you tomorrow with more cookies, just like these. Everything is going to be alright.”
Reluctantly, Harry nodded and let go of her hand. As the police took him to Child Protective Services, Lili watched from her doorway, her heart heavy with concern. She hoped with all her might that she had done the right thing and that Harry and his friends would find the help they needed.
The following morning, as the sun cast a soft glow through her kitchen window, Lili sat at her small wooden table, her mind still on Harry. She dialed the number for Child Protective Services, her fingers trembling slightly. After a few rings, a woman answered.
“Child Protective Services, how can I help you?”
“Hello, my name is Lili. I took in a young boy named Harry last night and the police brought him to your office. I wanted to check on him.”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “Oh, yes, Harry. We looked into his case, and he was returned to his foster family. There was no evidence of poor treatment.”
Lili’s heart sank. “But he told me about the terrible conditions. He had bruises. Did anyone check on him thoroughly?”
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