My new neighbors seemed odd from the start. Their little child played alone, and I ended up spending half the day with her until her mother finally appeared. Out of courtesy, she invited me over. The next day, I found the abandoned child with a heartbreaking note. I decided to act immediately.
It was a typical quiet day in our small suburban neighborhood when I noticed the moving truck pull up to the old house next door. The place had been abandoned for years, and seeing any activity there was surprising enough.
I stood at my window, peering through the curtains like a curious cat.
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“Who are they?” I muttered to myself, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
The man was tall, with sharp features that made him look like he’d stepped out of a noir film.
The woman with him, though—she was something else. Pale, almost ghostly, with a distant look in her eyes as if she was there, but not really.
And then, there was the little girl.
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She couldn’t have been more than four years old. Tiny thing, with big eyes full of innocence, clutching a worn-out teddy bear as if it was her only friend in the world.
She played alone in the overgrown yard, her small figure seeming even smaller against the wild grass and tangled weeds.
What a strange family!
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Samuel and I had always dreamed of having kids. After years of trying, though, it became painfully clear that it wasn’t going to happen for us.
Samuel never talked much about it, always brushing it off with a shrug or a quick change of subject.
But me? I couldn’t let go of the dream. And seeing that little girl, so alone… It stirred something deep inside me.
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***
A few days later, I went for my usual walk around the neighborhood. As I turned the corner, there she was—the little girl from the neighbor’s house. This time, she was dangerously close to the street.
“Hey there, sweetie,” I called out gently, hurrying over. “Let’s not play so close to the road, okay?”
She looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes, and for a moment, I just stood there, holding her tiny hand.
I led her back toward her house and knocked on the door. No answer. My hand hesitated on the doorknob.
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Should I?
I took a deep breath and pushed it open, just a crack.
The house was almost empty, just a few old pieces of furniture and scattered boxes. It was like they’d moved in but hadn’t settled. Nobody was inside.
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“What’s your name, sweetie?” I asked, crouching down to the girl’s level.
“Lily,” she replied, her voice as soft as a whisper.
“Well, Lily,” I said, “how about we draw some pictures?”
“I have no crayons.”
Those words cut a hole in my heart.
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“Alrighty! Let’s use a stick and sand outside!” I tried to cheer her up.
She nodded eagerly, and I began tracing simple shapes with a wooden stick—a heart, a star, and the letter “A.” Lily watched closely, her eyes widening with each stroke of the stick.
“Can I try?” she asked, reaching for the stick.
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“Of course,” I handed it to her, “Why don’t you try writing your name?”
She carefully drew a shaky “L” in the dirt, then looked up at me for approval.
“That’s great, Lily! You’re doing such a good job!” I encouraged her.
After a while, we moved on to another game. I pointed to some stones nearby.
“Let’s build something together. How about a castle?”
“A castle! Yes!”
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We gathered the stones, stacking them one on top of the other. It was a simple structure, really, but to Lily, it seemed like the grandest thing in the world.
“Look, it’s like a tower,” she said, placing a small stone carefully on top.
“It is! And here’s another one for the other side,” I added, handing her a flat stone. “You know, this could be where the princess lives.”
Lily’s face lit up even more at the idea.
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“And the prince can live over here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the other side.
I noticed how intently Lily focused on the task as if each stone was a precious gem. It made me wonder if she had ever played with real toys before.
“Thank you for playing with me.”
My heart swelled at her words.
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As the sun began to set, I started to worry about what to do.
Finally, the girl’s mother appeared, almost out of nowhere. She seemed surprised to see me but didn’t show much emotion.
“Thanks,” she said flatly, taking the girl’s hand. “I was nearby all the time.”
There was no warmth, no smile—just those words. Before leaving, she added,
“Why don’t you come over for tea tomorrow?”
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It wasn’t so much an invitation as an obligation. But I nodded, agreeing anyway.
I glanced down at Lily. She had been so engaged, so full of life while we played, but the moment her mother appeared, something in her seemed to change.
“Lily, it’s time to go.”
Without a word, Lily simply walked over to her mother, her small hand slipping into the woman’s cold grasp. There was no protest, no hesitation—just quiet obedience.
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“Okay, Mommy.”
Lily looked back at me. “Will you come to play with me again?”
“Of course, sweetie,” I replied, my voice catching in my throat.
As I watched them disappear down the path, a sense of unease crept over me. That sadness in Lily’s eyes was like a silent plea, a cry for help that she couldn’t voice.
There was something off about this family—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
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***
The next day, I hesitated, staring at the chipped paint on the neighbor’s door, then knocked. No answer. I knocked again, louder this time, but still nothing.
“Hello? It’s me, from next door,” I called out, hoping to hear some sign of life inside.
Nothing. The house remained eerily quiet, the silence pressing down on me like a weight. After what felt like an eternity, I hesitantly pushed the door open and stepped inside.
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“Hello?”
My footsteps sounded loud against the wooden floor as I wandered through the rooms, each one emptier than the last.
Then, in the living room, I found Lily. She was sitting on the floor with a pack of cookies and a bottle of water. She was holding a piece of paper in her tiny hands.
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“Lily?” I whispered, kneeling beside her.
She didn’t say anything, just handed me the note. I unfolded the paper, the heartbreaking message inside sending a cold chill down my spine:
“She’s yours if you want her. We know you’ll take good care of her.”
I stared at the words, my mind racing.
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Who would do such a thing? Abandon their child like this, leaving her in an empty house with nothing but a note?
Panic started to rise in my chest, and I grabbed Lily, pulling her close.
“We need to go,” I whispered, scooping her up into my arms.
As I headed for the door, a terrifying thought crossed my mind.
What if this was a trap?
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I froze for a moment, my heart pounding. But then I looked down at Lily. I couldn’t leave her there, no matter the risks.
When we arrived back at my house, Samuel was already home. He looked up from the couch as I walked in.
“What is this?” he demanded.
I set Lily down gently and handed her a box of crackers and a glass of milk.
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“Here, sweetie, why don’t you have a snack and watch some cartoons?” I said, turning on the TV to distract her.
Once she was settled, I turned back to Samuel, who was now standing, his face twisted with anger.
“Why is there a child in our house, Eliza?” he raised his voice.
“Samuel, I found her alone,” I began, my voice trembling. “In that empty house, with nothing but this note.”
I handed him the paper. He read the note quickly, then looked up at me.
“You’ve broken our agreement, Eliza. We agreed—no children in this house!”
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“Samuel, I couldn’t just leave her there! She was all alone, with no one to take care of her,” I pleaded, trying to make him understand.
But his anger only grew.
“I told you I didn’t want kids! And now you’ve brought one into our home? Do you even realize what you’ve done?”
His words cut deep, like a knife twisting in my chest.
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“You never said that! All these years, you said it was because of your health…”
He looked away, his jaw clenched.
“I lied. I never wanted children, Eliza. I just didn’t want to lose you.”
It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me. All those years, all those hopes and dreams… I had been living a lie.
Samuel delivered his ultimatum:
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“Either you take her back, or go away.”
I stared at him, the man I had loved and trusted, and realized that I couldn’t stay. Not like this. Not with him.
Without another word, I turned away from him, gathering a few belongings. I packed a small bag, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.
I couldn’t abandon Lily after everything she had already been through.
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As I took Lily’s hand and led her to the door, Samuel didn’t stop me. He just stood there, cold and distant, as if we were strangers.
I had no idea where we would go.
Finally, we ended up at the school where I work and spent the night in my office. I knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a start.
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***
In the following days, I began the adoption process for Lily, but it wasn’t easy. The authorities insisted I needed a stable home.
Then, unexpectedly, they informed me that Lily’s biological parents had left her an inheritance — the house. So, I could adopt Lily and move in there.
Shocked, I dug deeper and discovered that Lily’s foster parents — my neighbors — had adopted Lily solely for that inheritance. But realizing they couldn’t care for her, they decided she deserved better.
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To ensure she wouldn’t end up in another home for the wrong reasons, they left her, and the house, in my care. We moved in the same day, and the house became our home, filled with warmth and love.
Lily slowly opened up, and every time she called me “Mommy,” my heart swelled.
Samuel, living alone, began to reconsider his choices. He started helping around the house and taking care of Lily when I was busy. Forgiving him wasn’t easy, but his efforts made me feel that maybe we could find our way back to each other.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My husband was cheating on me with my boss, and I silently endured it. Then, my boss handed me tickets to distant islands, clearly with her own agenda. At the airport, I found myself fighting for a taxi. Little did I know, that chaotic moment would mark the beginning of an unexpected love story.
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An Elderly Man with OCD Develops Feelings for a Waitress, Only to Be Publicly Humiliated by a Rival the Following Day
“Bob!” Jonathan called out, his voice tight with frustration. “Your cat is at it again!”
Bob, a quirky man with a wide grin and a perpetually messy appearance, popped his head over the fence.
“Ah, sorry, Jonathan! Mr. Whiskers is just a free spirit, you know? He means no harm.”
Jonathan grumbled, shaking his head. “Keep him out of my garden, Bob. I can’t have him ruining my flowers.”
Jonathan ate his lunch at a local café every day, occupying the same table by the window. The thought of someone else sitting there made his palms sweat.
Phoebe, the kind-hearted waitress at the café, knew about this peculiarity and always tried to reserve the table for Jonathan.
She was a bright spot in his otherwise anxious world, with her warm smile and gentle demeanor.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Green,” Phoebe greeted him as he walked in, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Your usual table is ready for you.”
At the sight of Phoebe, Jonathan got nervous, and his hands started to shake. He quickly sat down and began arranging the sugar packets on the table, lining them up in perfect rows to calm himself.
Phoebe watched him with a soft smile, understanding his need for order.
“Thank you, Phoebe,” Jonathan said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Phoebe nodded and placed his usual lunch in front of him: a plate of vegetables arranged by color, with the potatoes perfectly aligned.
She arranged the vegetables this way just for him, knowing it helped to calm his nerves.
As he ate, Jonathan couldn’t help but glance at Phoebe from time to time. She moved gracefully between the tables. Each time she looked his way and smiled, he felt a flutter of warmth in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t quite name.
Despite the rigid structure of his days, there was a small part of Jonathan that longed for something more, something beyond his routines.
And though he would never admit it, Phoebe’s smile was a tiny spark of light in his meticulously ordered world.
On one of his regular visits to the café, Jonathan brought a single daisy, its white petals slightly wilted but still charming. He hid it in his pocket throughout lunch, occasionally patting it to make sure it was still there.
As he finished his meal and carefully arranged his utensils, he discreetly left the crumpled flower on the table for Phoebe.
As Jonathan made his way to the exit, Phoebe hurried after him. “Mr. Green, wait up!” she called, her voice bright and cheerful.
Jonathan paused, his heart racing. “Yes, Phoebe?”
Phoebe caught up to him, holding the daisy gently. “This is lovely, thank you,” she said warmly.
“You know, the café owner is planning a musical evening soon. We’re looking for someone who can play the piano well. I remember you mentioning you used to play quite well. Would you consider performing?”
Jonathan felt his chest tighten. He looked at his watch, his fingers tapping nervously on its face.
“I… I need to be home. It’s almost time for my afternoon routine,” he stammered.
Phoebe’s smile softened. “I understand, Mr. Green. Just think about it, okay? It would be wonderful to have you play.”
Jonathan nodded quickly, eager to escape the unexpected conversation. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled before hurrying out the door.
At home, Jonathan tried to follow his usual routine but found himself distracted by Phoebe’s words. Finally, he deviated from his schedule and sat down at the old upright piano in his living room.
His fingers trembled as they hovered over the keys. He began to play, but not all the notes came out right. His anxiety grew with each mistake.
Hearing the hesitant notes, Bob peeked through the window, his curiosity piqued. He knocked gently on the glass.
“Hey, Jonathan, need some help?” he called out.
Jonathan frowned but opened the window a crack. “I’m fine, Bob. Just… just trying something.”
Bob grinned, undeterred. “That’s awesome! Need an audience to practice on?”
Jonathan sighed. “It’s a foolish idea. I haven’t played in years.”
Bob stepped back and smiled. “Nonsense. Let’s work on it together. I can listen, and we can get you ready.”
Jonathan often struggled to play because of his obsessive thoughts, but Bob found a way to calm him.
He created little funny rhyming phrases.
“Tickle the ivories, just like pies,” and “Play the keys, no fleas, just ease.”
They first repeated them aloud, then to themselves. This helped Jonathan gather himself and play more steadily.
For the first time in a long while, Jonathan felt a flicker of happiness, a sense of accomplishment warming his heart. He smiled, thinking that perhaps this could be his moment to shine.
However, deep down, he couldn’t shake off the nagging worry that his joy might be premature.
The next day, Jonathan walked into the café with a slight spring in his step. However, instead of Phoebe, he saw Mark behind the counter.
Mark was a young waiter, known for his sharp tongue and competitive nature. He always seemed to be trying too hard to impress, especially when Phoebe was around.
Jonathan’s heart sank a little, but he approached Mark.
“Hello, Mark,” Jonathan said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Could you tell Phoebe that I agreed to perform at the musical evening?”
Mark raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sure, I’ll let her know,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Good luck with that, old man.”
Ignoring the snide remark, Jonathan turned and left the café. He met up with Bob, who was waiting for him outside.
“How’d it go?” Bob asked, noticing Jonathan’s slightly flustered appearance.
“Phoebe wasn’t there, but I left the message with Mark,” Jonathan replied, trying to shake off the unease. “Let’s go get that suit.”
Bob nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely! Let’s get you looking sharp.”
They went to the local department store, where Bob helped Jonathan pick out a suit. Bob was like a whirlwind of energy, holding up jackets and ties, and offering opinions on colors and styles.
“Try this one,” Bob said, handing Jonathan a navy blue suit. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”
Jonathan hesitated but took the suit into the dressing room. When he emerged, he felt a bit self-conscious but also a little proud.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked, turning around slowly.
Bob gave a thumbs up. “You look fantastic! Phoebe will be impressed for sure.”
After purchasing the suit, Jonathan had one more request.
“Bob, can we stop by the jewelry shop? There’s something I need to get.”
Bob’s eyes widened in surprise but nodded. “Of course, let’s go.”
At the jewelry shop, Jonathan carefully examined the pieces on display. His hands were a bit shaky as he finally selected a delicate silver bracelet with a small charm.
“This one,” Jonathan said, his voice soft. “For a special woman.”
Bob smiled broadly. “That’s a beautiful choice, Jonathan. She’ll love it.”
Bob patted him on the back as they walked out of the shop.
“Everything’s going to be great, Jonathan,” Bob said confidently. “I’ll be there to support you at the performance. You’ve got this.”
Jonathan nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Thanks, Bob. I appreciate your help.”
As they headed home, Jonathan felt a flicker of hope. Yet, the biggest test for poor Jonathan was to come, and he had no inkling of what lay in wait.
On the day of the performance, Jonathan arrived at the café, feeling a bit nervous. As he entered, he looked around for Phoebe but saw Mark behind the counter instead.
“Good afternoon, Mark. Is Phoebe here?” Jonathan asked, his voice slightly trembling.
Mark smirked. “Oh, she’s in the back. Why do you need her?”
Jonathan took a deep breath.
“I’m here for the performance. I told you to let her know.”
Mark’s smirk widened. “Oh, right. I must have forgotten. Besides, we decided against live music tonight. It’s not really your scene, old man.”
Jonathan’s heart sank. Just then, Phoebe came out from the back and saw Jonathan. She greeted him with a warm smile.
“Mr. Green! What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you came tonight! You look sharp today,” she said, noticing his new suit.
“You didn’t respond to my message, but I went ahead and tuned the piano just in case.”
Jonathan managed a small smile, feeling a bit more at ease. “Thank you, Phoebe. I’m ready to play.”
Jonathan looked at Mark, who shrugged nonchalantly. Phoebe frowned but turned to Jonathan with a reassuring smile.
“It’s not a big deal. The piano is tuned, and you can play. Let me just inform the café owner.”
As Phoebe walked away, Mark seized the moment to mock Jonathan.
“Look at you with your useless rituals. Your obsessive thoughts have no place here. You’re just going to embarrass Phoebe and yourself.”
Jonathan’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. In his panic, he knocked over a stack of dishes on a nearby table. The crash echoed through the café, and juice spilled onto the patrons at the neighboring table.
Faces turned towards him, some with shock, others with annoyance.
Feeling utterly humiliated, Jonathan ran out of the café, his vision blurred with tears.
Bob was just entering the café, having arrived a bit late. As he stepped through the door, he and Jonathan collided, nearly knocking each other over.
“Whoa, Jonathan! What happened?” Bob asked, seeing the distress on Jonathan’s face.
Jonathan, struggling to catch his breath, tried to explain.
“Mark… he didn’t tell Phoebe. They weren’t expecting me to play, and he… he mocked me. I knocked everything over.”
“Jonathan, calm down,” Bob said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Remember our rhymes from the rehearsals. Repeat them with me.”
Together, they closed their eyes and chanted the calming phrases:
“Tickle the ivories, just like pies,” and “Play the keys, no fleas, just ease.”
Gradually, Jonathan’s breathing steadied, and the panic ebbed away.
Despite the anger and confusion inside the café, he felt a new resolve forming within him.
Bob gave him an OK sign. “You’ve got this, Jonathan. Don’t let Mark or anyone else stop you.”
Jonathan, still murmuring the calming rhymes, walked back into the café, ignoring the stares and whispers.
He made his way to the piano, his focus entirely on the keys in front of him. The café owner moved to intervene, but Phoebe quickly stepped in.
“Please, let him play. I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens next,” she pleading the owner.
Summoning all his strength, Jonathan began to play. The first notes were shaky, but as he continued, his confidence grew.
The music flowed beautifully, filling the café with a serene melody. The chatter died down, and everyone listened, captivated by his performance.
As the last note faded, Jonathan faced the audience.
“I have OCD,” he began, his voice steady. “But today, I overcame my fears and my need for daily rituals to take a step forward. I want to thank Bob for helping me find a new way to calm myself, and I even thank Mark for the obstacles he put in my path because they made me stronger.”
He turned to the café owner and the patrons. “I apologize for the chaos earlier and promise to cover the costs.”
The café erupted in applause, and Jonathan felt a wave of relief wash over him. Mark slipped out quietly, his head down, while Jonathan approached Phoebe, who was beaming with pride.
He took out the small box and handed it to her.
“Phoebe, this is for you. And… would you go out with me on a real date?”
Phoebe’s eyes sparkled as she opened the box to reveal the bracelet.
“Yes, Jonathan. I’d love to.”
From a distance, Bob watched with a satisfied smile. Jonathan had not only faced his fears but had also found the courage to pursue his happiness.
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