Girl Gives Up All Her Savings To Help Her Grandfather, Despite Her Mother’s Estrangement From Him – Story of the Day

It was her mother’s birthday, and Alice cherished these family gatherings. But this time her grandfather Ted hadn’t been invited. When Alice simply asked, “Why?” hermother snapped, a reaction that was unlike her. Alice sensed her grandfather neededhelp, and she was determined to offer it.

Alice sat at the dinner table, the warm glow of candles flickering around the room and casting shadows on the walls. Her parents, Lisa and Terry, were smiling and chatting, celebrating her mother’s birthday.

The table was covered in delicious dishes—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread.

The smell of the meal filled the air, comforting and familiar, yet Alice couldn’t focus on the joy around her. She sat quietly, picking at her food, her thoughts far away.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

As her parents laughed and shared stories, Alice’s mind kept drifting to someone who wasn’t there—her grandfather, Ted.

He had always been a part of family gatherings, and Alice missed him dearly. He would tell her amazing stories about his youth, or spin her around in the air until she felt like she could fly.

Grandpa Ted had a way of making her feel special, like she was the most important person in the world. But it had been over a year since Alice had last seen him, and she didn’t really know why.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her thoughts wandered back to the last time she had seen her mother and Grandpa Ted together. It was a memory she couldn’t forget—her mother shouting at him, her voice louder and angrier than Alice had ever heard.

Alice had been upstairs in her room, but the argument had echoed through the house.

Grandpa Ted had smelled strange that night, and he’d been acting a little off, stumbling over his words.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Alice didn’t understand why, but her mother had seemed furious, yelling something about “broken promises” and “never again.” After that night, Grandpa Ted had disappeared from their lives.

Alice had kept quiet for a long time, hoping that her mother and Grandpa Ted would make up, and everything would go back to normal.

But now, sitting at the dinner table while everyone else celebrated, she couldn’t hold back her questions any longer.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Why isn’t Grandpa Ted here?” she asked, her voice soft but clear, cutting through the laughter.

The room went silent. Her parents stopped talking, and the warmth in the air seemed to cool in an instant. Lisa’s face changed, her smile fading as she glanced at Terry, who shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable.

Lisa cleared her throat, taking a deep breath before answering. “Grandpa Ted isn’t coming, Alice. I don’t think he will for a long time.”

Alice’s heart sank. “Why not?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “What did he do?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lisa’s eyes hardened, and her voice became cold and firm. “Grandpa Ted made some bad decisions, and we don’t need to see him anymore. It’s better this way.”

Alice’s eyes widened in confusion. “But I miss him. Can’t we visit him? He’s still family.”

Before Lisa could respond, Terry gently placed his hand on hers. “Honey, but what about his kidney treatment? He cant afford it…”

“No,” Lisa interrupted, her tone sharp. “I don’t want to talk about him, not today.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The tension in the room was thick, and Alice felt tears welling up in her eyes. She looked down at her plate, trying to hold back her emotions.

She loved her grandfather and couldn’t understand why her mother was so angry. What could he have done that was so terrible?

After a few moments of silence, Alice whispered, “May I be excused?”

Without waiting for an answer, she quietly stood up and left the table, her heart heavy. She made her way to her room, the tears finally spilling over as she closed the door behind her.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Sitting at her desk, Alice wiped the tears from her eyes as the conversation from dinner replayed in her mind.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what her mother had said about Grandpa Ted. He had always been so kind to her, telling her stories and making her laugh.

Why was her mother so angry with him? Alice couldn’t understand it. She knew he had made mistakes, but wasn’t he still family? And now he was sick.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She had overheard her father talking quietly to her mother about how Ted needed money for medication. Could that be why her mother was upset? Maybe she felt that Grandpa Ted didn’t deserve their help after what had happened.

But Alice didn’t feel that way. No matter what Grandpa Ted had done, she still loved him.

She couldn’t bear the thought of him being sick and alone, needing help, and not getting it. Her heart ached for him. She knew she had to do something—anything—to help him.

Her eyes drifted over to the small piggy bank sitting on her shelf. She had been saving money in it for months, dreaming of buying herself a new bicycle.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She had almost enough to get the one she’d wanted for so long, but now, thinking of her grandfather, the bike didn’t seem as important anymore.

Slowly, Alice stood up and walked over to the piggy bank, holding it in her hands. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had.

For a moment, she hesitated. She really wanted that bike. But the image of her grandfather, sick and in need, wouldn’t leave her mind. He needed her more than she needed a bicycle.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

With a deep breath, Alice wrapped the piggy bank in a towel, then gently tapped it against the edge of her desk until it broke. The sound of the shattering ceramic seemed louder than she expected, but it didn’t matter.

She gathered up the coins and bills, carefully counting them before placing the money into her backpack. It wasn’t a lot, but it was everything she had. Hopefully, it would help Grandpa Ted.

Grabbing her jacket, Alice slipped it on and quietly opened her bedroom window. She knew if she asked her parents to go, they wouldn’t let her.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

It was late, and they were still upset. But she had made up her mind. She was going to help her grandfather, no matter what.

She climbed out of the window just like she used to do when she played outside and tiptoed across the yard to the bus stop.

The night air was chilly, and Alice shivered as she waited for the last bus of the night.

When it finally arrived, she paid for her ticket with some of the coins she had saved and sat down, watching the dark streets pass by. Soon, she would be at Grandpa Ted’s house. She just hoped she could make a difference.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

After what felt like forever, Alice finally arrived at Grandpa Ted’s house. The familiar sight of the old wooden door, with its peeling paint and the creaky porch she used to play on, made her heart race.

Memories flooded her mind—of summers spent there, of laughter and stories shared. But tonight, the house seemed quieter, sadder, as if it shared the weight of the unspoken feelings in her heart.

She hesitated for a moment, gripping the straps of her backpack tightly, then knocked gently on the door.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Within seconds, the door creaked open, and Grandpa Ted appeared. His face, worn with age but still kind, lit up in surprise when he saw her.

“Alice! What are you doing here, sweetheart?” he exclaimed, stepping forward and wrapping her in a warm embrace.

Alice held on tight, not wanting to let go.

“I came to help you, Grandpa,” she whispered, pulling away slightly and fumbling with the zipper of her backpack. She pulled out the small stack of coins and bills she had brought, her life savings, and held them out to him. “Dad said you’re sick, and you need money for medicine. This is all I have.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Grandpa Ted looked down at the money in her hands, his eyes filling with tears. For a moment, he was speechless. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft and thick with emotion.

“Oh, Alice,” he said, gently taking her hands in his. “This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. But… I don’t think this money will be enough to cure what’s wrong. But what you’ve given me tonight is worth far more than any medicine—your love and care.”

Alice frowned, her eyes searching his face. “But I want to help. I want you to get better, Grandpa. You can’t be sick.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Grandpa Ted smiled, though there was sadness in his eyes. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do, my dear. Some things, even love and money, can’t fix. But knowing that you care enough to come all this way for me? That means more than you can imagine.”

They sat together on the porch, the night air cool around them, but Alice felt warm being close to her grandfather. Ted quickly sent a message to the girl’s parents so they would know where she was.

After a few moments of quiet, Alice finally asked the question that had been bothering her for so long. “Grandpa, why is Mom so mad at you?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ted sighed deeply, as if the weight of his regret was pulling down on his shoulders.

“Your mom trusted me, Alice. She gave me money to help me get better, to stop drinking. But I did something terrible. I used that money to buy more alcohol, and it hurt her deeply. She had faith in me, and I let her down.”

Alice’s voice trembled as she asked, “Why did you do it?”

Ted looked down, ashamed. “Because I was weak, and I made a mistake,” he admitted.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I’ve regretted it every day since. I never wanted to hurt your mother. I just hope, one day, she can forgive me for what I did.”

They sat together in silence, the sound of the night settling in around them. Alice didn’t know how to fix everything, but at that moment, she knew her love was what mattered most.

Just as they were finishing their conversation, a car pulled up in front of the house. Alice’s parents had come looking for her, and Lisa was furious.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Alice, what were you thinking?” Lisa scolded. “You could have been hurt!”

Alice stood her ground, looking up at her mother. “I gave Grandpa all my money, Mom. He’s sorry for what he did. Can’t we help him?”

Lisa’s anger faltered as she looked at her daughter, and her heart softened. The sight of her little girl, more willing to forgive than she had been, melted away some of the bitterness she had carried for so long.

Lisa sighed and turned to her father. “Dad, if you stay sober, I’ll help you with the medication.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ted nodded, tears filling his eyes. “Thank you, Lisa.”

Alice smiled through her tears, knowing that she had helped bring her family back together. It wasn’t just about money—it was about love, forgiveness, and the hope of a fresh start.

My Fiancé Dumped Me After My Hair Started Falling out — Years Later, I Accidentally ‘Stole’ His Wedding

After losing my baby, I also lost my hair — and then my fiancé. He dumped me with the cruel words, “You’re not the person I fell in love with.” Three months later, he was dating my sister. A year after we split, I walked into their wedding and everyone gasped when they saw my transformation.

I used to believe that true love meant finding your perfect match and living happily ever after. Looking back now, I realize how naïve I was, but that’s the thing about love: it makes you believe in fairy tales.

A woman staring dreamily out a window | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring dreamily out a window | Source: Midjourney

“Are you sure about this?” Brian asked, his hand resting on my still-flat stomach.

We were lying in bed, basking in the glow of his proposal just hours before. The ring felt heavy on my finger, but my heart was light. The diamond caught the morning sunlight, sending tiny rainbows dancing across our bedroom walls.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I whispered back, threading my fingers through his. “We’re going to be a family.”

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

I remember how his eyes lit up, how he kissed my forehead and promised we’d be the best parents ever.

“I already started looking at baby furniture online,” he admitted sheepishly. “I know it’s early, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“You did?” I laughed, snuggling closer. “Show me!”

But fate can be cruel. Two weeks later, I sat in a sterile hospital room, clutching Brian’s hand as the doctor delivered the news that would shatter our perfect beginning.

A sad couple in a doctor's office | Source: Midjourney

A sad couple in a doctor’s office | Source: Midjourney

The baby was gone. The words hung in the air like poison, seeping into every corner of our world.

“These things happen sometimes,” the doctor said gently. “It’s nobody’s fault. You can try again when you’re ready.”

But it felt like my fault, and the grief was killing me. That’s when I started losing my hair. Every morning, I’d wake up to find more strands of hair on my pillow, in my brush, circling the shower drain.

A woman examining her hair | Source: Midjourney

A woman examining her hair | Source: Midjourney

At first, it was just a little more than usual, then clumps, then whole patches. I stopped looking in mirrors because I couldn’t stand the stranger staring back at me.

Brian pretended everything was okay, but noticed the way his eyes would skip over my thinning spots, and the way his touch became hesitant, almost clinical.

One evening, he asked me to sit down at our kitchen table. The same table where we’d planned our wedding just months before, choosing color schemes and debating flower arrangements.

A serious man seated at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

A serious man seated at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice flat. “You’re not the person I fell in love with. You’ve changed.”

I gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white. “Changed? Of course I’ve changed. We lost our baby.”

“It’s more than that.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m calling off the wedding.”

“So you’re just giving up? After everything we’ve been through?” My voice cracked. “After all our plans, our dreams?”

A sad and shocked woman seated at kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

A sad and shocked woman seated at kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

“I’m sorry,” he said, but his voice held no real emotion. “I think it’s best if I move out this weekend.”

“Don’t do this, Brian,” I pleaded. “We can work through this together. We can get counseling, take some time…”

“I’ve made up my mind,” he cut me off. “I’ll come by Saturday to get my things.”

I spent the next few months in a fog, barely leaving my apartment except for work.

A depressed woman wearing a headscarf lying on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

A depressed woman wearing a headscarf lying on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

The hair loss continued, and I started wearing scarves to hide the worst of it. My friends tried to help, but their pity was almost worse than being alone.

Then came the day my mother called, her voice tight with tension. “Honey, there’s something you need to know. It’s about Brian… and Sarah.”

“Sarah?” I repeated, confused. “What about them?”

“They’re… seeing each other. Your sister and Brian. They’ve been dating for a few weeks now.”

A woman speaking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

My sister. My own sister was dating my ex-fiancé! The betrayal sent me into a tailspin, and the remaining patches of my hair fell out completely.

It was all too much to bear. I finally went to see a doctor about my hair loss. I’d thought it would go away as suddenly as it had started, but the doctor soon shattered my hopes.

“You have Alopecia Areata, an autoimmune condition triggered by severe stress,” she said. “While we can try various treatments, there’s no guaranteed cure. But many people learn to manage it successfully.”

A doctor seated at her desk | Source: Pexels

A doctor seated at her desk | Source: Pexels

A year passed. I thought I’d hit rock bottom, but then the wedding invitation arrived. Cream-colored paper with gold embossing announced the upcoming nuptials of Brian and Sarah.

“You don’t have to go,” my best friend Rachel insisted over coffee. “No one would blame you for staying home.”

“I know,” I said, tracing the elaborate calligraphy with my finger. “But I need to face this.”

That invitation changed something in me.

A woman in a coffee shop with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a coffee shop with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney

Instead of crumpling under the weight of it all, I felt a spark of defiance. I started seeing a therapist, Dr. Martinez. It wasn’t easy to face my demons, but she helped me understand that my worth wasn’t tied to my hair or to Brian’s rejection.

“What would you do if you weren’t afraid?” she asked me one session.

The answer came surprisingly easily. “Travel. Dance. Live.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Nothing.” The realization hit me like a train. “Nothing at all.”

A woman gasping | Source: Midjourney

A woman gasping | Source: Midjourney

So I joined a dance studio. I was self-conscious those first few lessons, but I soon settled in and started enjoying myself. I also booked that trip to Bali I’d always dreamed about. That’s where I met Anthony.

I was walking along the beach at sunset, feeling the warm sand between my toes, when I heard the click of a camera. I turned to find a man with kind eyes and an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his professional-grade camera. “The light was perfect, and you looked so peaceful. I can delete the photos if you’d like.”

A grinning man holding a camera on the beach | Source: Midjourney

A grinning man holding a camera on the beach | Source: Midjourney

“No, I’d like to see them,” I surprised myself by saying. Something about his gentle manner put me at ease.

When he showed me the images on his camera’s display, I gasped. The woman in the photos was bald, yes, but she was also beautiful, serene, powerful. She looked like a warrior goddess emerging from the sea.

“Wow,” I breathed. “I can’t believe that’s me.”

“You have an amazing presence,” he said softly. “The camera loves you.”

A man holding a camera on the beach | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a camera on the beach | Source: Midjourney

“I haven’t felt beautiful in a long time,” I admitted.

“But you’re gorgeous!” He exclaimed. Then he blushed. “I’m sorry, we don’t even know each other and here I am, babbling like a fool. Let me start over. I’m Anthony.” He extended his hand. “Would you like to get coffee and talk about photography?”

Coffee turned into dinner, dinner into days spent exploring the island together. Anthony saw me in a way no one else had before.

A man and woman walking on the beach together | Source: Midjourney

A man and woman walking on the beach together | Source: Midjourney

“You never asked about my hair,” I said one evening as we walked along the shore.

“Because it’s not what makes you you,” he replied simply. “Your strength, your smile, your heart, those are what matter.”

I’d made enough progress in therapy to know he was right, but hearing him say it… that was the moment I truly started to feel confident about who I was again.

A bald woman smiling confidently | Source: Midjourney

A bald woman smiling confidently | Source: Midjourney

Months later, I stood outside the wedding venue, smoothing down my red dress. Anthony squeezed my hand.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes full of pride.

“Ready.”

We walked into the reception hall together, my bald head held high. I was transformed from the woman I used to be to an Alopecia warrior, facing my biggest battle yet. The room fell silent, conversations dropping away like stones into still water.

A confident bald woman wearing a red dress entering a church | Source: Midjourney

A confident bald woman wearing a red dress entering a church | Source: Midjourney

Then, remarkably, people began to stand. The applause started slowly but built into a thunderous ovation.

Throughout the evening, guests kept approaching our table. “You’re so brave,” they’d say, or “You’re an inspiration.”

I caught glimpses of Sarah’s tight smile and Brian’s uncomfortable shifting, but they couldn’t touch me anymore.

“You okay?” Anthony whispered during a slow dance.

A man smiling lovingly at someone | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling lovingly at someone | Source: Midjourney

I looked up at him, feeling the strength of his arms around me, the warmth of his love. “More than okay. I’m free.”

Now, as I plan my own beach wedding with Anthony, I sometimes think about the woman I used to be. She thought losing her hair meant losing everything, but really, it was just the beginning of finding herself.

“What are you thinking about?” Anthony asks me now, as we sit on our balcony watching the sunset.

He’s editing photos from his latest gallery show: a series featuring women with alopecia, inspired by our story.

A man working on his balcony | Source: Midjourney

A man working on his balcony | Source: Midjourney

I touch my smooth scalp, something I do proudly these days. “Just thinking about how sometimes you have to lose everything to find what you’re really meant to have.”

“Getting cold feet?” he teases gently.

“Never,” I laugh. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He smiles and takes my hand. “Ready to be my bride?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” I reply, and this time, I know it’s true.

A smiling bald woman on a balcony at sunset | Source: Midjourney

A smiling bald woman on a balcony at sunset | Source: Midjourney

I think about our upcoming ceremony, and how different it feels from my planning with Brian. This isn’t about creating a perfect day, it’s about celebrating our perfectly imperfect love story.

These days, I work as a model and speak at conferences about alopecia awareness, and Anthony’s photos of me have been featured in magazines promoting body positivity.

But more importantly, I’ve learned that true beauty isn’t about perfect hair or perfect relationships. It’s about being perfectly, authentically yourself.

A woman on a balcony smiling confidently | Source: Midjourney

A woman on a balcony smiling confidently | Source: Midjourney

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.

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