Rose was a young woman who didn’t like flying. She had only started taking flights when she began visiting her husband, Bill, who worked as a miner in Texas while she lived in Omaha.
Bill’s job paid well but kept him away most of the year, only coming home for a short break between Christmas and New Year’s.
One day, while Rose was on a commercial flight, she unexpectedly went into labor. This caused the pilot to change the flight path, but instead of heading to the nearest airport, the plane was rerouted elsewhere to handle the emergency.
Rose, now heavily pregnant, had convinced Bill to let her visit him once a month in Texas, despite his initial reluctance. Over time, these weekend visits became a cherished routine in their marriage, and the moments they spent together in Bill’s small apartment were some of their best.
It was during one of these romantic weekends that Rose became pregnant. Bill was thrilled about the baby and had big plans. He promised to retire from mining once the child was born and start a farm in Omaha. Bill came from a family of successful farmers, and he believed they could make a good living growing crops.
Even though Bill had asked Rose to stay home during her pregnancy, Rose was determined to see him. Flying to Texas had become such a habit that she couldn’t bear the thought of missing their time together that weekend, so she boarded the plane one last time, despite being so close to her due date.
“You are nine months pregnant, Rose,” Bill reminded her during their last call.
“Oh, thank you for pointing that out, I had no idea my stomach started swelling nine months ago,” Rose replied sarcastically.
“You shouldn’t be traveling at all, let alone flying across states. It’s absurd, my dear,” Bill insisted, concern evident in his voice.
“I need to see you, Bill,” Rose cooed. “I’ve missed you so much.”
She had let him convince her to stay home for the past two months, but this time, she wasn’t backing down.
“I know, baby,” Bill sighed. “But it’s September, and I’ll be home for good in December. Just be patient, hon.”
Rose let him think he’d convinced her again, but when Friday arrived, she packed her bags and boarded a flight to Texas. When she arrived and surprised Bill, he pretended to be angry, but they quickly fell into their usual rhythm and cherished their time together.
By Sunday evening, when Rose boarded the plane back to Omaha, she was glowing with happiness after spending a refreshing weekend with Bill. But once the plane took off and hit turbulence, she was quickly reminded of how much she disliked flying. Rose preferred solid ground, where the worst-case scenario wouldn’t involve falling from the sky.
Another shake rattled the plane, sending her imagination into overdrive. She began worrying about everything from hijackings to plane crashes, and her stress level spiked. While her mind raced with worst-case scenarios, something unexpected happened—her water broke.
At first, Rose didn’t even realize it. She noticed the wetness and blushed, assuming she’d lost control of her bladder due to the stress. It never occurred to her that her water had broken three weeks early. But then, the contractions started, and Rose finally understood what was happening. She was going into labor.
Rose’s scream filled the cabin, catching the attention of a nearby flight attendant, who rushed over. “What’s wrong?” the attendant asked, her voice filled with concern.
“I’m having a baby!” Rose yelled, gripping the armrests as another contraction hit her.
The flight attendant quickly relayed the situation to the pilot, who immediately contacted the nearest airport for permission to land. While waiting, the attendant tried to soothe Rose by talking to her between contractions.
“Why are you traveling alone, especially so far along in your pregnancy?” the flight attendant asked, her voice soft but concerned.
“I was visiting my husband and now I’m returning home,” Rose replied breathlessly.
“He let you travel like this? That’s so irresponsible!” the flight attendant remarked, shaking her head. “Okay, do you have family we can call? Other than your husband?”
“No, I’m an orphan,” Rose said, her voice weakening as the contractions became more intense.
The flight attendant noticed Rose was burning up with a fever and struggling to endure the pain. Realizing the situation could turn dangerous without medical help, she informed the pilot, urging him to make the emergency landing as soon as possible.
The pilot, Drew, received unsettling news from the dispatcher: the nearest airport wasn’t ready to take their plane due to bad weather. Time was running out, and Rose, in her feverish state, could only cry out for her husband. Drew knew he had to act quickly.
“We’re going back to Texas,” Drew said with determination.
He instructed the flight attendant to keep Rose stable for another thirty minutes, but soon, more bad news arrived—Texas was experiencing severe weather too, and they weren’t allowed to land at the airport.
Despite the setbacks, Drew had one last option. He knew the area well and remembered an old, abandoned airstrip not far from the airport. The only issue was the runway—it was too short for a plane their size. Still, it was Rose’s best chance to get help.
“We’re landing at the abandoned airstrip,” Drew announced to his co-pilot, Stan, who was still relatively new to flying.
“Sir, with all due respect, landing there is against the rules,” Stan said, hesitant.
Drew turned to him, eyes focused. “Sometimes, to save a life, you have to follow your conscience, not the rules,” he replied firmly.
Stan nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. The decision was made—Drew was going to attempt the risky landing to save Rose and her unborn child.
Drew instructed the flight attendant to contact Rose’s husband as the plane circled the abandoned airstrip, preparing for a risky landing. Every move had to be precise, and Drew knew there was no room for error.
They circled once, then twice, each time bringing the plane closer to the ground. Meanwhile, Rose was slipping in and out of consciousness, her contractions overwhelming her.
As the plane neared the ground, Drew knew it was time to take the leap of faith. With no control tower to guide them, it was all on him. The co-pilot, still a rookie, was on the verge of panicking but followed Drew’s calm lead. After several tense minutes, the plane finally touched down safely.
As soon as the hatch opened, an ambulance with EMTs and Rose’s husband raced toward the plane. They were followed closely by media vans and a few concerned civilians who had rushed to the airstrip, fearing a crash. Drew had done it—he landed the plane against the odds, and now Rose was on her way to getting the help she needed.
Bill gently carried his pregnant wife to the ambulance, overwhelmed with worry as they raced to the hospital. All he could do was pray that Rose, who looked exhausted and unwell, would be okay.
At the hospital, doctors quickly checked her vitals and realized she was too weak to deliver the baby naturally. They decided a C-section was the only option. Bill wasn’t allowed in the operating room, so he waited anxiously outside. After what felt like an eternity, he was finally called in to meet his new baby and see his recovering wife.
Relief flooded over him. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing them both. That day, Bill decided to quit his job, vowing never to leave his family for long periods again. When they returned to Omaha, it would be for good.
Out of gratitude, Bill asked for the name of the brave pilot who risked it all to help them. He and Rose agreed to name their baby after him.
As for Rose, it would be many years before she would ever set foot on an airplane again.
What did we learn from this story?
Human life is incredibly valuable. Drew made the right choice when he decided to land the plane at the abandoned airstrip to save both Rose and her baby. It reminds us that life is precious and should be protected at all costs.
Overthinking is not helpful. Rose might have made it back to Omaha without any issues if she hadn’t let her mind race after the turbulence. Her anxiety triggered stress, and her body reacted by going into labor early. This shows that overthinking often makes things worse instead of helping.
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Little Girl is Caught Stealing, but When the Cashier Learns Why, She Makes an Unthinkable Decision — Story of the Day
Claire never expected a simple theft to shake her to the core—until she caught a child sneaking out with a sandwich. But when she saw the tiny candle flicker on top, heard the whispered birthday song, her heart ached. This wasn’t just shoplifting. It was survival. And Claire had a choice to make.
I stood behind the counter at Willow’s Market, the small corner store where I had worked for the past four years.
The scent of fresh bread lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon from the bakery section.
It was a comforting smell, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold morning. The store had that effect—cozy, familiar, a little worn around the edges but full of heart.
I ran my fingers along the edge of a shelf, straightening the jars of homemade jam. Every item had its place, and I made sure of it.
Keeping the store neat wasn’t just part of the job; it was my way of showing I cared.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Beside the register, I had placed a small box filled with handwritten notes—each one carrying a simple kind wish for the customers.
Little things like, “Hope today brings you something good” or “You’re stronger than you think.”
Some people ignored them, some smiled politely, and a few—especially the older customers—tucked them into their pockets like tiny treasures.
It was something small, but it made people smile. And that mattered to me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Just as I finished organizing the checkout area, the front door swung open sharply, making the hanging bells jingle too hard.
The sudden noise sent a jolt through me.
Logan.
I sighed internally.
Logan was the son of the store’s owner, Richard, and he had zero interest in keeping the store alive.
He wanted something more profitable—a liquor store, maybe, or a vape shop.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Something that would bring in fast cash, not the slow, steady kind of business his father had built over the years.
But Richard had refused, saying the community needed a place like Willow’s Market. And Logan? Well, he didn’t take no very well.
Logan sneered as he scanned the store, hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive coat.
It was too nice for a place like this—black wool, probably designer, the kind of thing that didn’t belong near dusty shelves and wooden counters.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“How’s it going, Claire?” His voice was casual, but there was something sharp beneath it, like a blade hidden under silk.
I straightened, forcing a polite tone. “We’re doing well. I opened early today to get everything ready.”
His sharp blue eyes flicked toward the counter. Right at my box of notes.
He reached for one, lifting it with two fingers as if it were something dirty.
“What the hell is this?” he scoffed, reading aloud. “Enjoy the little things? What kind of sentimental garbage is this?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, he tossed the note onto the floor and, with one careless sweep of his arm, knocked over the entire box.
The papers fluttered like wounded birds, scattering across the wooden floor.
My stomach tightened.
I knelt quickly, gathering them up with careful hands. “It’s just something nice for customers,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
“This is a business,” Logan snapped.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Not a therapy session. If you wanna play philosopher, do it somewhere else. This store already isn’t making much money.”
His words hit like a slap, but I refused to react.
“It’s your father’s store,” I reminded him, standing up, my fingers curling around the handful of notes I had managed to pick up.
His jaw ticked. “For now,” he muttered, voice lower this time. Then he leaned in, just enough for me to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And you work here for now,” he added, his voice dripping with warning. “One more mistake, Claire, and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
His words sat heavy in the air between us, thick with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about my notes.
Then, just like that, he turned and left. The bell above the door clanged behind him, the sound sharp and jarring.
I stood there, my heart pounding, watching the scattered notes on the floor.
I had spent time writing each one, hoping they might bring someone a moment of comfort. But in the end, they were just paper to him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, willing my hands to stop shaking.
Then, slowly, I knelt back down and started picking them up again.
Later that afternoon, I stood behind the register, absently smoothing my apron as I watched Mrs.
Thompson count out coins with careful fingers. She was one of our regulars, always buying the same things—fresh bread and a small packet of tea.
The store was quiet, the golden afternoon light slanting through the front windows. Outside, cars rolled by lazily, and a few people walked past, chatting about their day.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Thompson finally gathered the right amount and placed the small stack of coins on the counter with a satisfied nod.
“You know, dear,” she said, looking up at me with her warm, wrinkled smile, “this store is the best thing in the neighborhood. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”
Her words eased something tight in my chest. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been since Logan’s visit. His voice still echoed in my head, sharp and full of warning.
“One more mistake, Claire, and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
I forced a smile. “That means a lot, Mrs. Thompson. Really.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She patted my hand with the softness only age could bring. “Don’t let that boy get to you,” she said knowingly.
Before I could respond, movement near the sandwich shelf caught my eye. A small figure in an oversized hoodie hovered there, their head ducked low, fingers twitching at their sides.
Something about the way they moved—too hesitant, too jumpy—made my stomach tighten.
I glanced back at Mrs. Thompson. She was tucking her tea into her purse, humming to herself.
I turned back to the hooded figure.
“Excuse me!” I called, stepping out from behind the register. “Can I help you find something?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The kid’s head snapped up, and for a split second, wide brown eyes locked onto mine. Then—
They bolted.
In one swift movement, they spun toward the door, their sneakers skidding slightly on the worn floorboards.
A small shape vanished into their pocket as they pushed past the door, setting the hanging bells into a frantic jingle.
My stomach dropped.
I glanced at Mrs. Thompson. “Watch the register for a second?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She barely hesitated before waving me off. “Go, dear!” She clutched her purse like she was preparing to defend the store herself.
I ran outside, my heart hammering as I scanned the busy sidewalk. The kid was fast—too fast.
Weaving through the crowd, dodging between people, slipping around corners like they’d done this before.
I almost lost them. Almost.
Then, a voice called out.
“Ran that way, five minutes ago.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I turned. A homeless man sat on a newspaper, pointing lazily down a side street.
I nodded in thanks and hurried forward, following his direction.
And then—I saw her.
The kid had stopped behind an abandoned alley, far from the main street. The oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame, making her look even younger.
I slowed my steps, pressing myself against the brick wall at the alley’s entrance, watching.
She pulled something from her pocket.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
A wrapped sandwich.
From the other pocket, she retrieved a tiny candle and a lighter.
My breath caught.
She unwrapped the sandwich with careful hands, smoothing the paper flat like it was something precious. Then, she stuck the small candle into the soft bread and flicked the lighter on.
A tiny flame flickered to life.
And then, she sang.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Happy birthday to me… Happy birthday to me…”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through me like a knife.
She smiled—just a little—then took a deep breath and blew out the candle.
I stepped forward before I could think twice.
The girl froze.
Her big brown eyes filled with fear as she took a quick step back, her hands clenching at her sides.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, already inching away like a cornered animal.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I knelt down, making sure my voice was gentle. “You don’t have to run.”
Her lips trembled.
“You’re not mad?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “I just wish you didn’t have to steal a sandwich for your own birthday.”
For the first time, something in her cracked. The tough shell, the instinct to fight or flee—it slipped, just for a second.
I held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the store. We’ll get you something to eat. No stealing required.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She hesitated.
Then, to my surprise, she reached out and took my hand.
Back at the store, Logan was waiting for me.
The moment I stepped through the door, his voice hit me like a whip.
“Where the hell were you?” he barked. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, impatience rolling off him in waves.
I tightened my grip on Katie’s small, trembling hand. She shrank slightly behind me, her fingers curling around mine like a lifeline.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“A child took something,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I went after her.”
Logan’s expression darkened, his nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge.
“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly, stepping forward, his boots clicking against the wooden floor.
“You left the register. Chased down a thief. And instead of calling the police, you brought her back here?”
“She’s not a thief,” I shot back. “She’s a hungry kid.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t care if she’s a saint. She stole from the store.”
I saw it then—the way his hand hovered near his pocket, his fingers twitching. He was reaching for his phone.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My stomach clenched.
“I’m calling the cops,” he said, his voice dripping with finality. “They’ll take her to an orphanage. That’s where kids like this end up.”
Beside me, Katie flinched. I felt her grip tighten like she was bracing for something awful.
I stepped forward without thinking. “Logan, don’t. Please.”
He smirked, tilting his head. “Why not? You care about your job, don’t you?”
His words hung heavy in the air, daring me to argue.
I swallowed hard. My pulse pounded in my ears.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll quit if you don’t call the police,” I said.
For the first time, Logan hesitated.
He blinked. “What?”
“You want me gone, right?” My voice was even, but inside, my heart was racing. “If I walk away now, you get what you want. Just don’t call.”
Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—maybe shock, maybe amusement. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smug grin.
“Fine,” he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Pack your things.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I exhaled, glancing down at Katie. Her wide brown eyes looked up at me, searching for reassurance.
I squeezed her hand.
“Let’s go,” I said.
The next morning, I walked into Richard’s office with a heavy heart. Richard was always kind to me, an owner of the store I looked up to. The folded resignation letter in my hand felt like a brick. I had spent four years at Willow’s Market, and now, it was over.
Richard sat at his desk, the morning light casting long shadows across the wooden surface. He was reading over some invoices, his glasses perched low on his nose.
I cleared my throat and placed the envelope in front of him. “Richard, I—”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But before I could explain, he lifted a hand to stop me.
“Mrs. Thompson told me everything,” he said.
I froze.
My pulse quickened as I searched his face, expecting disappointment, maybe even anger. But instead, there was something softer—understanding.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Logan was supposed to take over this place one day… but after what he did?” He shook his head. “I don’t want someone like him running this store.”
I stared at him, my breath catching. “Then… who will?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Richard smiled.
“You.”
I almost dropped my coffee.
“Me?” My voice came out in a whisper.
“You’re not just a cashier, Claire,” he said gently. “You’re the heart of this store.”
Tears burned my eyes.
I had lost a job.
But somehow, I had gained a future.
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