For three months, Mia’s mom insisted she stay away while her house was being renovated. But something didn’t sit right. When Mia arrives unannounced, she finds the door unlocked, the house eerily pristine, and a strange smell in the air. Mia is about to stumble upon a devastating secret.
The city was just waking up as I drove through its empty streets. Early morning light painted everything in soft hues, but I couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling in my gut. Something was wrong.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. Mom’s voice echoed in my head as my memory replayed all those hurried phone calls and weird excuses. “Oh, honey, I can’t have you over. The house is a mess with all these renovations.”
But three months without seeing her? That wasn’t like us. We used to be thick as thieves, her and me.
I worried about what had changed as I waited at an intersection. Mom had always been house-proud, constantly tweaking and updating our home. But this felt different.
Her voice on the phone lately… she always sounded so tired. Sad, even. And every time I’d try to press her on it, she’d brush me off. “Don’t worry about me, Mia. How’s that big project at work going? Have you gotten that promotion yet?”
I knew she was keeping something from me, and I’d let it slide for far too long.
So here I was, way too early on a Saturday morning, driving across town because I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was terribly wrong.
As I pulled up to Mom’s house, my heart sank. The garden, usually Mom’s pride and joy, was overgrown and neglected. Weeds poked through the flower beds, and the rosebushes looked like they hadn’t seen pruning shears in months.
“What the hell?” I muttered. I killed the engine and rushed to the gate.
I walked up to the front door, my footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. When I tried the handle, it turned easily. Unlocked. That wasn’t like Mom at all.
Fear prickled across my skin as I stepped inside. There was no dust, or building materials in sight. No sign of a drop cloth or any paint cans either. And what was that smell? Sharp and citrusy. The place was too clean, too sterile. Like a hospital.
“Mom?” I called out.
My eyes swept the entryway, landing on a familiar photo on the side table. It was us at the beach when I was maybe seven or eight. I was grinning at the camera, gap-toothed and sunburned, while Mom hugged me from behind, laughing.
The glass was smudged with fingerprints, mostly over my face. That was weird. Mom was always wiping things down, keeping everything spotless. But this… it looked like someone had been touching the photo a lot, almost frantically.
A chill ran down my spine.
“Mom?” I called again, louder this time. “You here?”
That’s when I heard it. A faint creaking came from upstairs.
My heart raced as I climbed the stairs. The quiet felt heavy, pressing in on me from all sides. I tried to steady my breathing as I walked down the hallway toward Mom’s room.
“Mom?” My voice came out as a whisper now. “It’s me. It’s Mia.”
I pushed open her bedroom door, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
There she was, struggling to sit up in bed. But this… this couldn’t be my mother. The woman before me was frail and gaunt, her skin sallow against the white sheets. And her hair… oh God, her beautiful hair was gone, replaced by a scarf wrapped around her head.
“Mia?” Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing.
“Mom? What… what happened to you?”
She looked at me with those familiar brown eyes, now sunken in her pale face. “Oh, honey,” she sighed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
I stumbled to her bedside, dropping to my knees. “Find out what? Mom, please, tell me what’s going on.”
She reached out a thin hand, and I clasped it in both of mine. It felt so fragile, like a bird’s bones.
“I have cancer, Mia,” she said softly.
Time stopped and my world narrowed down to how dry her lips looked as she spoke and the hollow feeling in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
“… undergoing chemotherapy for the past few months,” she finished.
“Cancer? But… but why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep this from me?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t want to burden you, sweetheart. You’ve been working so hard for that promotion. I thought… I thought I could handle this on my own.”
Anger flared up inside me, hot and sudden. “Handle it on your own? Mom, I’m your daughter! I should have been here! I should have known!”
“Mia, please,” she pleaded. “I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to see me like this, so weak and…”
“Protect me?” I cut her off, my voice rising as tears blurred my vision. “By lying to me? By keeping me away when you needed me most? How could you do that?”
Mom’s face crumpled, and she started to cry, too. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Mia. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
I climbed onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much, and pulled her into my arms.
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered. “You could never be a burden to me. Never.”
We sat there for a long time, just holding each other and crying. All the fear and pain of the past few months came pouring out.
When we finally calmed down, I helped Mom get more comfortable, propping her up with pillows. Then I went downstairs and made us both some tea, my mind reeling with everything I’d learned.
Back in her room, I perched on the edge of the bed, handing her a steaming mug. “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”
And she did. She told me about the diagnosis, the shock, and the fear. How she’d started treatment right away, hoping to beat it before I even knew something was wrong.
“But it spread so fast,” she said, her voice trembling. “By the time I realized how bad it was, I was already so sick.”
I took her hand again, squeezing gently. “Mom, don’t you get it? I love you. All of you. Even the sick parts, even the scared parts. Especially those parts. That’s what family is for.”
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. “I just… I’ve always been the strong one, you know? Your rock. I didn’t know how to be anything else.”
I smiled through my tears. “Well, now it’s my turn to be the rock. I’m not going anywhere, Mom. We’re in this together, okay?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay.”
I moved back in with Mom later that week. I also took time off work and called in every favor I could to get Mom the best care possible, even if all we could do was keep her as comfortable as possible.
We spent her final days together, sharing stories and memories, laughing and crying together. And when the end came, I was right there beside her.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” she whispered. “I wanted… I never took you to Disneyland… I promised to take you camping in the mountains… so many promises I’ve broken…”
“It’s not important.” I moved closer to her on the bed. “What matters is that you were always there for me when I needed you. You always knew how to make me smile when I was sad, or make everything better when I messed something up.” I sniffed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Mom.”
Her eyes cracked open, and she smiled faintly at me.
“You’re going to be okay, Mia. You’re so strong… my amazing daughter. I love you so much.”
I put my arms around her and hugged her as tightly as I dared. I’m not sure exactly when she slipped away, but when I eventually pulled back, Mom was gone.
I stayed there for a long time, trying to hold onto the warmth of our last hug as sobs racked my body, replaying her last words in my mind. Trying to keep her with me, no matter how impossible that was.
Saying goodbye to Mom was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I wouldn’t trade those moments I spent with her for anything in the world.
Because in the end, that’s what love is. It’s showing up, even when it’s hard. It’s being there, even in the darkest moments. It’s holding on tight and never letting go.
After Years of Waiting, a Woman Decides to Propose to Her Boyfriend Herself, but His Response Is Even More Unexpected — Story of the Day
After five years of dating, Charlotte decides it’s time to take the leap and proposes to Peter during a cozy dinner. As curious eyes in the restaurant turn toward them, his stunned and hesitant reaction leaves her questioning everything she thought she knew about their future.
Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed, the morning light filtering through the thin hotel curtains.
The phone pressed against her ear felt heavier with each word from her mother.
“Mom… I don’t know…” she repeated softly, her voice cracking with frustration.
“What do you mean you don’t know?!” her mother snapped on the other end. “Charlotte, you’ve been with Peter for, what, five years now?”
“Five years and three months,” Charlotte murmured, as if the exact number might defend her case.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And still no proposal? Charlotte, you’re 33 years old! How much longer do you plan to walk around unmarried? At this rate, I’ll never see grandchildren,” her mother continued, her tone sharp and unwavering.
Charlotte bit her lip, the ache in her chest growing.
“When Peter planned this two-week trip, I really thought… I thought this was it, Mom. I thought he’d propose.”
“And now this trip is nearly over,” her mother cut in.
“The day after tomorrow, you’ll be home, and what do you have? Nothing but your grandfather’s ring, which should already be on your husband’s finger by now.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, please,” Charlotte said, the weight of the conversation pressing down on her. “I know the story. You’ve told it a hundred times.”
“Don’t interrupt me, Charlotte! That ring is meant for your husband, and how are you supposed to pass it down if you don’t have one?” her mother snapped, her words sharp as glass.
Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
“Alright, Mom. I get it. I’m hanging up now.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Either find someone else or propose to him yourself!” her mother shouted just before Charlotte ended the call. The silence in the room was deafening.
Dropping the phone onto the bed, Charlotte buried her face in her hands. After a moment, she reached for her bag and pulled out the small velvet box.
She opened it slowly, revealing the delicate gold ring that carried generations of family history.
She held it in her palm, staring at it. The ring wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of tradition, of responsibility.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
As the only daughter, that responsibility felt like a weight she wasn’t sure she could carry much longer.
The restaurant was warm and softly lit, with a hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air.
Charlotte sat across from Peter, her hands resting on the table, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t seem to silence.
“Time’s flown by, hasn’t it?” Peter said, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed smile. “I didn’t even notice. Tomorrow we’ll be back home, and this trip will just be a memory.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Charlotte forced a small smile.
“Yeah, it went by quickly… but it feels like something’s missing, like we forgot something important,” she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
Peter furrowed his brow, leaning forward slightly. “What do you mean? What’s missing?”
She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Peter, don’t you think it’s time our relationship moved to the next level?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Peter chuckled, his tone light.
“The next level? Are you saying you want us to get a dog? Or maybe a cat?”
Charlotte gave a tight smile, shaking her head. “No. I mean something else…”
“I don’t follow,” Peter said, his playful demeanor giving way to confusion.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Charlotte reached into her bag and pulled out a small velvet box.
She placed it on the table between them, her heart pounding.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Peter,” she began, her voice trembling but firm, “we’ve been together for more than five years. I’ve known for a long time that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
With a deep breath, she opened the box, revealing the heirloom ring. “Peter, will you marry me?”
The color drained from Peter’s face as his eyes widened in shock. He looked at the ring, then at her, his discomfort evident.
Around them, the hum of conversation quieted as other diners took notice, their curious gazes making Peter shift uneasily.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You’re proposing to me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Charlotte said, her smile faltering slightly. “What’s your answer?”
Peter glanced around, visibly unnerved by the attention. “I… I don’t know,” he stammered.
“This doesn’t feel right… I need time to think.”
Charlotte’s chest tightened. “Time? You’ve had over five years! I can’t keep waiting—I need an answer.”
The restaurant fell silent, all eyes on their table. Peter stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t do this. Charlotte, I think we need to take a break. I need to figure out what I really want.”
Charlotte’s breath caught. “A break? You’re breaking up with me?”
“No,” Peter said quickly, his voice defensive.
“Not breaking up. I just think we need some time apart. I’ll reach out when I’m ready.” Without another word, he turned and walked out.
“Peter!” Charlotte called after him, but he didn’t look back. Left alone at the table, Charlotte felt the weight of judgmental eyes around her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Fighting back tears, she hurriedly gathered her things, paid the bill, and left the restaurant, the sting of rejection lingering with every step back to the hotel. Next day she returned to her hometown and first person she went to meet was her mother.
Charlotte walked into her mother’s house, her suitcase dragging behind her, the wheels squeaking against the tile floor.
The house smelled of lavender, just as it always had, but instead of comfort, it made her chest tighten. Her throat felt dry, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of sadness and anger.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
As soon as her mother appeared in the doorway, Charlotte burst into tears and ran into her arms. The weight of her emotions spilled out in broken sobs.
“He left me, Mom,” Charlotte cried, her words muffled against her mother’s shoulder. “You were right. I wasted the best years of my life for nothing.”
Her mother gently stroked her hair, her voice surprisingly calm.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. But maybe this is a blessing in disguise. At least now he won’t waste any more of your time.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Charlotte pulled back slightly, her face tear-streaked and red. Her mother’s words stung at first, but the softness in her voice made Charlotte pause.
She hadn’t expected sympathy—she’d braced herself for an “I told you so.”
“Do you really think it’s for the best?” Charlotte asked, her voice trembling.
Her mother gave a small, sad smile. “I do. You deserve someone who knows what they want and isn’t afraid to fight for you. It’s time to think about what you want.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Hearing that, Charlotte let out another sob, this time feeling a weight begin to lift.
Years of pent-up anxiety, frustration, and heartbreak poured out, and for the first time, she let herself feel everything.
She stayed in her mother’s embrace, her tears slowing.
It wasn’t an instant cure, but in that moment, Charlotte realized something important: this chapter of her life had ended, and now, she had the chance to write a new one.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Almost a month had passed since Charlotte’s trip. Though her heart still carried the weight of heartbreak, she had begun to heal.
Each day felt a little lighter, and the texts from Reggie, the man she met recently, were a welcome distraction. His thoughtful messages, sprinkled with humor and warmth, brought a smile to her face each morning.
They weren’t serious, but he was kind, and for now, that was enough.
That morning, as she scrolled through her phone with her coffee in hand, a different name appeared on her screen. Her breath caught.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It was Peter.
“Hi, how are you? I’d like to meet and talk. Are you free today at five?”
Charlotte’s chest tightened. For weeks, she had convinced herself she was over him, but seeing his name brought back a flood of emotions.
Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen, her coffee growing cold. After a deep breath, she typed a simple reply:
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, we can meet.”
Later that evening, Charlotte sat at a corner table in a quiet café, her nerves on edge.
When Peter walked in, her stomach turned. He carried a bouquet of roses and approached with the same familiar, confident smile he had always worn.
“I’ve missed you, Charlotte,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She pulled back slightly, meeting his surprise with a cold stare.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I didn’t notice,” she replied, her tone clipped.
Peter hesitated but pressed on, sliding into the seat across from her. “Look, I know I acted like a jerk. I was scared.”
“Scared of what, Peter?” she asked, folding her arms.
“Of responsibility… marriage. And you blindsided me with that proposal. In front of everyone? Imagine how that felt for me.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Charlotte’s jaw tightened.
“How you felt? Did you ever stop to think about how I felt? Being in a relationship for over five years with no sign of commitment? How that made me question everything about us?”
“I didn’t realize it mattered so much to you,” Peter said, his voice softening.
“You should have realized,” she shot back.
“It mattered to me, and it should have mattered to you. But you walked away. You made your choice.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I know,” Peter admitted, leaning forward.
“But I’ve had time to think. I was wrong, Charlotte. Let’s fix this. I’m ready now. Let’s go back to what we had. It was special, and I want to marry you.”
Charlotte shook her head, her resolve hardening.
“It’s too late, Peter.”
“Don’t say that,” he pleaded.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“We love each other. We can make this work.”
“No, Peter,” she said, standing.
“There’s no ‘we’ anymore. What we had is in the past, and I don’t want to go back.”
As she walked out of the café, Charlotte felt a weight lift.
For the first time in years, she felt free—free to embrace her future, one where her happiness didn’t depend on someone who couldn’t see her worth.
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