O mundo de Emma virou de cabeça para baixo quando seu pai ligou abruptamente para casa da universidade, apenas para exigir que ela desocupasse seu quarto para seu meio-irmão imprudente. Meses depois, outra ligação urgente revelou a casa da família em ruínas, iniciando uma jornada de redenção e reconstrução para todos eles.
Eu estava imerso no meu livro de biologia na biblioteca da universidade. Meu laptop estava aberto, e minhas anotações estavam espalhadas ao meu redor. O cheiro de café enchia o ar enquanto eu bebia da minha xícara, tentando manter o foco. Então meu telefone tocou, interrompendo minha concentração.
Jovem mulher na biblioteca | Fonte: Pexels
Era o papai. Ele nunca ligava só para bater papo. Meu coração pulou uma batida quando atendi.
“Emma, preciso que você venha para casa imediatamente”, ele disse. Sua voz soou estranha, urgente.
“Está tudo bem, pai?”, perguntei, sentindo um nó se formar no meu estômago.
“Venha para casa”, ele repetiu e desligou.
Homem ao telefone | Fonte: Midjourney
Arrumei minhas coisas rapidamente, minha mente correndo. Por que papai parecia tão urgente? Eu não conseguia me livrar da sensação de que algo estava errado. Peguei minha bolsa e saí da biblioteca, mal me lembrando de jogar fora minha xícara de café ao sair.
A viagem para casa foi um borrão. Meus pensamentos eram uma confusão de preocupação e confusão. Papai nunca ligou assim. O que poderia ser tão importante?
Uma mulher dirigindo | Fonte: Pexels
Quando parei em nossa modesta casa nos arredores da cidade, vi o carro de Linda na garagem. Lá dentro, encontrei papai, Linda e Jacob sentados na sala de estar. A atmosfera estava tensa.
“Pai, o que está acontecendo?”, perguntei, tentando manter a voz firme.
Ele olhou para mim, seu rosto sombrio. “Emma, precisamos conversar.”
Sentei-me, sentindo os olhos de todos em mim. Jacob parecia desconfortável, se mexendo no assento. Linda sentou-se ao lado dele, seu rosto ilegível.
Homem olhando diretamente | Fonte: Midjourney
“Jacob vai ficar conosco por um tempo”, papai começou.
Eu assenti lentamente. “Ok…”
“O antigo quarto dele agora é o escritório da Linda”, continuou o pai. “Então ele vai ficar com o seu.”
Olhei para ele, sem acreditar no que estava ouvindo. “O quê? Para onde eu deveria ir?”
“Você pode ficar no campus”, disse papai, como se não fosse grande coisa.
Mulher chocada segurando um par de óculos | Fonte: Pexels
“Pai, não tenho dinheiro para viver no campus em tempo integral”, protestei. “Estou trabalhando meio período só para juntar dinheiro para o próximo semestre.”
“Você vai descobrir. Você é uma garota esperta!” Ele tentou rir. “Jacob precisa de um lugar para ficar agora, e você tem opções. Ele não tem.”
Eu não conseguia acreditar. Meu próprio pai estava me expulsando por Jacob, que tinha desperdiçado todas as oportunidades dadas a ele. Senti lágrimas de frustração e traição brotando, mas me recusei a chorar na frente deles.
Dois homens sorrindo | Fonte: Midjourney
“Tudo bem,” eu disse, me levantando. “Vou arrumar minhas coisas.”
Passei a próxima hora enfiando meus pertences em sacolas e caixas. Papai não se ofereceu para ajudar, e nem Linda ou Jacob. Quando terminei, dei uma última olhada no quarto que tinha sido meu santuário e fui em direção à porta.
“Boa sorte”, Jacob disse com um sorriso malicioso quando passei por ele.
Homem sorrindo pela janela | Fonte: Midjourney
Encontrar um lugar para ficar no campus não foi fácil. Mudei-me para um pequeno dormitório, abarrotado com minhas caixas e malas. Equilibrar meu trabalho de meio período e meus estudos foi difícil, mas eu estava determinada a fazer dar certo.
Os dias viraram semanas, e eu mal tinha tempo para respirar. Estudei até tarde da noite, trabalhei em todos os turnos que pude e tentei economizar cada centavo. Apesar de tudo, senti uma estranha sensação de independência. Esta era a minha vida, e eu estava fazendo-a funcionar.
Mulher ocupada em seu laptop | Fonte: Pexels
Poucos meses depois, meu trabalho duro valeu a pena. Consegui um emprego muito melhor, um que pagava o suficiente para eu alugar um apartamento pequeno e aconchegante nos arredores da cidade. Não era muito, mas era meu. E eu estava incrivelmente orgulhoso disso.
Um dia, meu telefone vibrou no balcão da cozinha enquanto eu estava me preparando para o trabalho. Ao ver o nome de Linda piscando na tela, peguei-o, esperando o pior.
“Emma, você precisa voltar para casa”, disse Linda, com a voz trêmula.
Mulher atendendo o telefone enquanto trabalha | Fonte: Pexels
“Por quê? O que está acontecendo?”, perguntei, meu coração batendo forte.
“Venha para casa”, ela repetiu, e eu podia ouvir o pânico em sua voz.
Peguei minhas chaves e corri para fora da porta, minha mente correndo. O que poderia ter acontecido agora?
Quando cheguei na casa da minha infância, meu estômago caiu. Caminhões de bombeiros se alinhavam na rua, luzes piscando. Vizinhos estavam reunidos, sussurrando e apontando.
Bombeiros apagando um incêndio | Fonte: Pexels
Eu empurrei a multidão, meu coração na garganta. Ali, na frente dos restos carbonizados da nossa casa, estavam papai e Linda, parecendo devastados.
Corri até eles, tentando entender a cena diante de mim. “O que aconteceu?”, perguntei, sem fôlego.
“Jacob deu uma festa enquanto estávamos no lago”, papai disse, com a voz vazia. “Um dos amigos dele estava fumando e acidentalmente ateou fogo nas cortinas. A casa inteira pegou fogo.”
Uma festa em chamas | Fonte: Midjourney
Olhei para os destroços, a descrença me invadindo. Meu quarto, minhas coisas — tudo tinha sumido. Mas mais do que isso, nossa casa estava destruída.
“Estão todos bem?”, perguntei, forçando-me a focar no que mais importava.
“Todo mundo está bem”, Linda disse, com lágrimas escorrendo pelo rosto. “Mas a casa… é uma perda total. Não temos seguro suficiente para cobrir o dano total.”
Mulher chorando | Fonte: Pexels
Papai olhou para mim, seus olhos cheios de arrependimento. “Sinto muito, Emma,” ele disse, sua voz embargada. “Eu nunca deveria ter te expulsado. Isso é tudo culpa minha.”
Senti uma onda de emoções misturadas — raiva, pena, frustração. “Você fez sua escolha, pai. E agora está enfrentando as consequências.”
Papai assentiu, com lágrimas escorrendo pelo rosto. “Por favor, Emma, você pode nos ajudar? Não temos mais para onde ir.”
Homem frustrado chorando | Fonte: Pexels
Respirei fundo, minha mente acelerada. Parte de mim queria ir embora, deixá-los lidar com a bagunça que eles criaram. Mas outra parte de mim sabia que eu não podia deixá-los assim.
“Eu vou ajudar,” eu disse finalmente, minha voz firme. “Mas as coisas têm que mudar. Eu não serei tratado como um cidadão de segunda classe na minha própria família.”
Emma exige uma mudança | Fonte: Midjourney
“Eu prometo,” papai disse, sua voz séria. “As coisas serão diferentes.”
Olhei para Linda, que assentiu em concordância. “Nós faremos isso funcionar, Emma. Obrigada.”
Ofereci a eles um lugar para ficar no meu pequeno apartamento enquanto eles lidavam com as consequências do incêndio e elaboravam o seguro e os planos de reconstrução. Era apertado, mas era uma chance de reconstruir nosso relacionamento.
Um pequeno apartamento | Fonte: Pexels
Os dias se transformaram em semanas enquanto navegávamos na nova situação de vida. Tivemos que aprender a coexistir em um espaço tão pequeno, mas, lentamente, começamos a encontrar um ritmo. Observei enquanto papai e Linda se esforçavam para fazer as pazes, ajudando no apartamento e respeitando meu espaço.
Uma noite, quando nos sentamos para jantar, papai olhou para mim, sua expressão sincera. “Emma, eu sei que não tenho sido o melhor pai. Mas estou tentando consertar as coisas. Obrigado por nos dar essa chance.”
Eu assenti, sentindo uma sensação de alívio. “Somos uma família, pai. Temos que ficar juntos.”
Homem abraçando uma mulher por trás | Fonte: Midjourney
Linda sorriu, estendendo a mão para apertar a minha. “Nós vamos superar isso. Juntos.”
Conforme os meses passaram, trabalhamos juntos para reconstruir nossas vidas. Papai encontrou um emprego para ajudar a cobrir as despesas, e Linda começou um negócio online para trazer renda extra. Continuei com meus estudos e trabalho, sentindo uma nova sensação de equilíbrio e apoio.
Mulher ocupada trabalhando em sua mesa | Fonte: Pexels
O processo de reconstrução da nossa casa foi lento, mas nos aproximou. Passamos os fins de semana no local, ajudando onde podíamos e fazendo planos para o futuro. O trabalho físico de reconstrução refletia o trabalho emocional que estávamos fazendo, pedaço por pedaço, tijolo por tijolo.
No final, o fogo que destruiu nossa casa também queimou os velhos ressentimentos e mal-entendidos. Estávamos mais fortes, mais conectados e prontos para enfrentar o que viesse a seguir juntos.
Mulher feliz e realizada | Fonte: Pexels
Se você gostou dessa história sobre um pai que trai sua filha e o carma que o atinge, aqui vai outra!
Marido deixa esposa e filho por mulher mais nova, anos depois a filha se torna sua chefe — História do dia
William abandona sua esposa e filha para começar uma nova vida com sua jovem amante. Mas as coisas mudam anos depois, e quando William menos espera que as coisas deem errado, ele fica cara a cara com sua filha adulta.
William sentiu uma pontada de culpa enquanto sua esposa o olhava ansiosamente. Por um momento, ele reconsiderou sua decisão. Ele sabia que Linda ficaria arrasada se descobrisse que ele tinha uma amante.
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
William e Linda estavam casados há 20 anos, tinham uma filha de 17 anos e viviam uma vida pacífica na casa que Linda herdou dos pais. Eles até começaram um negócio de carne seca há um ano, mas logo parou de dar dinheiro, então o trabalho de William os sustentava.
“O que é que você queria discutir, William?” Linda quebrou o silêncio
Este trabalho é inspirado em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizado para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e melhorar a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não intencional do autor.
O autor e a editora não fazem nenhuma reivindicação quanto à precisão dos eventos ou à representação dos personagens e não são responsáveis por nenhuma interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida “como está”, e quaisquer opiniões expressas são as dos personagens e não refletem as opiniões do autor ou da editora.
Our Late Father Left Me Only an Apiary While My Sister Took the House and Shut Me Out, but One Beehive Hid a Game-Changing Secret — Story of the Day
I lost everything in one day—my job, my home, and then my father. At his will reading, my sister took the house and shut me out. I was left with nothing but an old apiary… and a secret I never saw coming.
Routine. That was the foundation of my life. I stocked shelves, greeted customers with a polite smile, and memorized who always bought which brand of cereal or how often they ran out of milk.
At the end of every shift, I counted my wages, setting aside a little each week without a clear purpose. It was more a habit than a plan.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
And then, in a single day, everything crumbled like a dry cookie between careless fingers.
“We’re making cuts, Adele,” my manager said. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t wait for a response. There was nothing to discuss. I took off my name tag and placed it on the counter.
I walked home silently, but as soon as I reached my apartment building, something felt off. The front door was unlocked, and a faint trace of unfamiliar female perfume lingered in the air.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My boyfriend, Ethan, stood beside my suitcase in the living room.
“Oh, you’re home. We need to talk.”
“I am listening.”
“Adele, you’re a great person, really. But I feel like I’m… evolving. And you’re just… staying the same.”
“Oh, I see,” I muttered.
“I need someone who pushes me to be better,” he added, glancing toward the window.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
That “someone” was currently waiting outside in his car.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I picked up my suitcase and walked out. The city felt enormous, and suddenly, I had nowhere to go. Then my phone rang.
“I’m calling about Mr. Howard. I’m very sorry, but he has passed away.”
Mr. Howard. That’s what they called him. But to me, he was Dad. And just like that, my route was set.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
In half an hour, I bought a bus ticket and left the city behind, heading to the place where my childhood had been rewritten. Howard had never been my father by blood. He had been my father by choice.
When I was almost grown, after years of drifting through foster care, he and my adoptive mother took me in. I wasn’t a cute, wide-eyed toddler who would easily mold into a family. I was a teenager.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But they loved me anyway. They taught me what home felt like. And finally, that home was gone. My mother had passed away a year ago. And then… my father had followed.
I was an orphan again.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The funeral service was quiet. I stood in the back, too consumed by grief to acknowledge the sharp glances my adoptive sister, Synthia, kept throwing my way. She wasn’t happy I was еhere, but I didn’t care.
After the service, I went straight to the lawyer’s office, expecting nothing more than a few tools from Dad’s garage, something small to remember him by.
The lawyer unfolded the will.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“As per the last testament of Mr. Howard, his residence, including all belongings within, is to be inherited by his biological daughter, Synthia Howard.”
Synthia smirked as if she had just won something she always knew was hers. Then, the lawyer continued.
“The apiary, including all its contents, is hereby granted to my other daughter Adele.”
“Excuse me?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“The beekeeping estate,” the lawyer repeated. “As per Mr. Howard’s request, Adele is to take ownership of the land, its hives, and any proceeds from future honey production. Furthermore, she has the right to reside on the property as long as she maintains and cares for the beekeeping operation.”
Synthia let out a short, bitter laugh.
“You’re joking.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“It’s all outlined in the document.” The lawyer held up the papers.
Synthia’s gaze sliced through me. “You? Taking care of bees? You don’t even know how to keep a houseplant alive, let alone an entire apiary.”
“It’s what Dad wanted,” I said finally, though my voice lacked conviction.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Fine. You want to stay? You can have your damn bees. But don’t think you’re moving into the house.”
“What?”
“The house is mine, Adele. You want to live on this property? Then you’ll take what you’ve been given.”
A slow dread crept into my stomach.
“And where exactly do you expect me to sleep?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“There’s a perfectly good barn out back. Consider it part of your new rustic lifestyle.”
I could have fought her. Could have argued. But I had nowhere else to go. I had lost my job. My life. My father. And even though I was supposed to have a place there, I was treated like a stranger.
“Fine.”
Synthia let out another laugh, standing up and grabbing her purse.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Well, I hope you like the smell of hay.”
That evening, I carried my bag toward the barn. The scent of dry hay and earth greeted me as I stepped inside. Somewhere outside, chickens clucked, settling in for the night.
The sounds of the farm surrounded me. I found a corner, dropped my bag, and sank onto the straw.
The tears came silently, hot streaks against my cheeks. I had nothing left. But I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to stay. I was going to fight.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The nights were still cold, even as spring stretched its fingers across the land. So, in the morning, I walked into town and spent the last of my savings on a small tent. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
When I arrived back at the estate, dragging the box behind me, Synthia was standing on the porch. She watched as I unpacked the metal rods and fabric, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“This is hilarious,” she said, leaning against the wooden railing. “You’re really doing this? Playing the rugged farm girl now?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I ignored her and continued setting up.
I remembered the camping trips I used to take with Dad: how he had shown me how to build a fire pit, set up a proper shelter, and store food safely outdoors. Those memories fueled me at that moment.
I gathered stones from the edge of the property and built a small fire ring. I set up a simple outdoor cooking area using an old iron grate I found in the barn. It wasn’t a house. But it was a home.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Synthia, watching the whole time, shook her head.
“Springtime camping is one thing, Adele. But what’s your plan when it gets colder?”
I didn’t take the bait. I had bigger things to worry about.
That afternoon, I met Greg, the beekeeper my father had worked with for years. I had been told he was the one who had maintained the apiary after Dad passed, but I hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet.
Greg was standing by the hives when I approached. He frowned when he saw me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, it’s you.”
“I need your help,” I said, straight to the point. “I want to learn how to keep the bees.”
Greg let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You?”
He eyed me up and down, taking in my entire existence that screamed city girl.
“No offense, but do you even know how to approach a hive without getting stung to death?”
I straightened my shoulders. “Not yet. But I’m willing to learn.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah? And what makes you think you’ll last?”
I could feel Synthia’s voice echoing in my head, her constant sneers, her dismissive laughter.
“Because I don’t have a choice.”
Greg, to my surprise, let out a low chuckle.
“Alright, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Learning was harder than I had expected.
I had to get past my fear of the bees first—the way they swarmed, the low hum of their bodies vibrating through the air. The first time I put on the protective suit, my hands trembled so badly that Greg had to redo the straps for me.
“Relax,” Greg said. “They can sense fear.”
“Great. Just what I needed.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He laughed at that.
“If you don’t want them to sting you, don’t act like prey.”
Over the next few weeks, Greg taught me everything: how to install foundation sheets into the frames, inspect a hive without disturbing the colony, and spot the queen among thousands of identical bees.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Some days, I was exhausted before noon. My body ached from carrying the heavy frames. I smelled like smoke and sweat and earth. And yet, I had a purpose.
That evening, the air smelled wrong.
I had just stepped onto the property, my arms full of groceries, when a sharp, acrid scent curled into my nostrils.
Smoke. Oh, no! My beehives…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
The fire was raging, orange tongues licking at the darkening sky. Flames crawled over the dry grass, consuming everything in their path.
My tent was in ruins, its fabric curling and melting under the heat. The fire had devoured everything inside—my clothes, bedding, the last remnants of what I had managed to build for myself.
But my eyes locked on the beehives.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
They were close to the flames, the thick smoke drifting in their direction. If the fire reached them…
No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I grabbed a bucket beside the well and ran toward the fire, but…
“Adele! Get back!”
Greg.
I turned to see him sprinting across the field. A second later, others followed—neighbors, local farmers, even the older man from the general store. They carried shovels, buckets, and anything they could find.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I barely had time to process what was happening before they moved into action.
“Get the sand!” Greg barked.
And I realized some people were dragging heavy sacks of dry dirt from the barn. They tore them open and started smothering the fire, throwing sand over the flames, cutting off their air.
My lungs burned from the smoke, but I kept going. We worked together until the flames finally died.
I turned toward the house. Synthia stood on the balcony, watching.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
She hadn’t lifted a single finger to help. I turned away.
The beehives were safe. But my home was gone.
Greg approached, wiping the soot from his forehead. His gaze drifted toward the window where Synthia had stood just moments ago.
“Kid, you don’t have the safest neighborhood. I’d recommend harvesting that honey sooner rather than later.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
We washed our hands, shook off the exhaustion, and, without another word, got to work.
I lifted the wooden frame from the hive, brushing off the few bees still crawling across the surface. The combs were full, golden, glistening in the soft evening light.
And then I saw it. A small, yellowed envelope was wedged between the wax panels. My breath caught. Carefully, I pulled it free and read the words scrawled across the front.
“For Adele.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Inside, folded neatly, was a second will. That was the actual will. I began to read.
“My dearest Adele,
If you are reading this, then you have done exactly what I hoped—you stayed. You fought. You proved, not to me, but to yourself, that you are stronger than anyone ever gave you credit for.
I wanted to leave you this home openly, but I knew I wouldn’t get the chance. Synthia would never allow it. She has always believed that blood is the only thing that makes a family. But you and I both know better.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
I didn’t have time to file this will officially, but I knew exactly where to place it—somewhere only you would find it. I hid it in the very thing she despises most, the one thing she would never touch. I knew that if you chose to stay and see this through, you would earn what was always meant to be yours.
Adele, this house was never just walls and a roof—it was a promise. A promise that you could always have a place where you belong.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
As my final wish, I leave you everything. The house, the land, the beekeeping estate—everything now belongs to you. Make it a home. Make it yours.
With all my love,
Dad”
The house had always been mine.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
That evening, when Greg and I finished harvesting the honey, I walked up the house’s front steps for the first time. Synthia sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea. I placed the will on the table in front of her.
“Where did you get this?” she asked after reading.
“Dad hid it in the beehives. He knew you’d try to take everything, so he ensured you wouldn’t find it.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
For the first time since I arrived, she had nothing to say.
“You can stay,” I said, and she looked up at me, startled. “But we run this place together. We either learn to live like a family or don’t live here at all.”
Synthia scoffed, setting the will down. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Then, finally, she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a slow, tired laugh.
“Fine. But I’m not touching the damn bees.”
“Deal.”
The days passed, and life slowly took shape. I sold my first jars of honey, watching my hard work finally pay off. Synthia took care of the house, keeping it in order while I tended to the bees. And Greg became a friend, someone to sit with on the porch at sunset, sharing quiet moments and stories about the day.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When I told my husband I was pregnant, he froze. When he saw the ultrasound, he panicked. The following day, he was gone—no calls, no trace. But I wasn’t about to just let him disappear. I needed answers… and payback.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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