I Created a Tinder Profile for My Lonely Mother, but Regretted It When I Saw Who Was Messaging Her — Story of the Day

My mom gave up everything to raise me. After my dad bailed, she was always there for me, the only one. All I wanted was to do something nice for her. So, I figured it wasn’t too late for her to find love on a dating app. But Lord, what I definitely DIDN’T EXPECT was finding out who she was going on a date with!

My name is Lucy, and I’m 23 years old. Like I usually do on weekends, I went to visit my mother, Phoebe, one weekend.

I am her only daughter, and she has no one else. My father left the family when I was very young, and since then, my mother has always been alone.

I was her main priority, and with all the care she gave me, she never had time for her personal life. My mother is 56, and finding a partner at her age is not easy, but I stayed optimistic about helping her.

We were at her house, and I was standing there with my phone, taking pictures of her and showing her how to pose.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow in the living room. The room was cozy, filled with family photos and mementos of my childhood.

“Mom, stand by the window,” I instructed, trying to capture the best light. “No, not like that, more gracefully, like a cat.”

“A cat? Lucy, at my age?” Mom replied shyly, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

“It’s never too late to feel like a woman. Listen to what I say. And don’t look at the camera. Pretend you’re gazing mysteriously out the window…”

Phoebe hesitated but complied, standing by the window with a slight tilt to her head, looking out with a soft, pensive expression.

“Oh… Hold still… Got it!” I exclaimed, snapping the picture. I showed it to her with a big smile. “See? You look amazing, Mom!”

She looked at the photo, and a small smile crept onto her face. “You think so?”

“Absolutely! This is perfect for your Tinder profile,” I said, editing the photo a bit before uploading it.

“Sweetheart, are you sure this is a good idea? I’m not young anymore; who would want me there…” she trailed off, doubt evident in her voice.

“Mom! Don’t say that about yourself. Life doesn’t end at fifty! Love knows no age!” I said firmly, looking into her eyes to emphasize my words. “You deserve to find happiness too.”

Together, we worked on adding a description for her profile. We laughed as we brainstormed the right words to describe her warm heart, love for gardening, and passion for cooking.

“How about this: ‘Loving mother and avid gardener looking for someone to share laughs and good meals with. Believes love is timeless and life is full of surprises.’ What do you think?” I asked.

Phoebe chuckled softly. “It sounds lovely, Lucy. Thank you for doing this for me.”

“Of course, Mom. You deserve to find someone special,” I said, giving her a hug. “Now, let me show you how to use the app.”

After a quick tutorial on swiping left and right, I felt confident that she was ready to dive into the world of online dating.

We shared one last laugh over the absurdity of it all before I said goodbye and headed back home, feeling hopeful about what the future might hold for her.

The next day, I arrived at the office, and as usual, my workday began with coffee and gossip with my office friend, Natalie.

The office kitchen buzzed with early morning chatter as we grabbed our coffees and settled at a table in the corner. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating a comforting start to the day.

Natalie immediately leaned in, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “You won’t believe this, Lucy. Michael, our boss, has been looking at his phone all day and smiling like a kid.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Michael? Smiling? What’s going on with him?”

Natalie grinned, her excitement palpable. “A woman. I’m sure he has someone. I mean, it’s the only explanation. Michael is always so focused on work and never distracted. But today, he’s been glued to his phone, smiling like a teenager in love.”

The thought of Michael, our workaholic boss, being smitten was amusing. We had never seen him with a woman, let alone acting like this.

“We have to find out who it is!” I declared, my curiosity piqued.

At that moment, we devised a plan. Natalie approached Michael, carrying a stack of documents. “Michael, could you take a look? I can’t seem to find last week’s report,” she said, feigning confusion.

Michael sighed, setting his phone aside reluctantly. “Natalie, you’ve worked here for years. Let me see,” he replied, taking the documents from her.

While Michael was distracted by Natalie, I quietly took his phone from the desk. My heart raced as I opened it, not knowing what to expect. But I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

It was my mother! He was messaging my mom! Their conversation had been going on since last night. My mind raced as I scrolled through the messages.

They had already arranged a date for that evening; Mom had invited him to dinner at her place. Panic set in. “No, no, this can’t be! Not this,” I thought frantically. How could this be real?

Why him, Mom? I couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to work with my boss as my future stepfather. No! I couldn’t let it happen. I had to stop it.

When Natalie and I reconvened, she immediately began asking, “So, who is it? Do you know her?”

I forced a smile and lied, “Oh, just some girl. Nothing special.” Inside, I was panicking. I needed to come up with a plan to prevent Michael from going on that date. If he went, it would ruin everything. My mind raced with possible solutions.

The workday was coming to an end, and I saw Michael hurrying to finish his work. It was so unusual because Michael was always the last to leave.

But I knew where he was rushing to, and it was crucial to ensure he didn’t make it. Seeing Michael packing up, I approached him with my laptop.

“Michael, do you have a minute?” I asked, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry… But sure, what do you need?” he replied, glancing at the clock.

“I can’t get this report right. Could you please check if everything is correct?” I handed him my laptop, hoping he wouldn’t notice the deliberate errors I had planted.

Michael sighed and took the laptop from me. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, opening the file and starting to review the report.

As he went through the report, pointing out mistakes and explaining corrections, I couldn’t help but notice his project on his computer screen.

It was a project he had been diligently working on all day to complete before his date. My heart pounded as I realized he would finish in no time.

“Lucy, I didn’t expect these kinds of mistakes from you; you usually do great work. What’s going on?” he asked, looking up at me with concern.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling well,” I mumbled, trying to hide my anxiety.

Michael finished reviewing the report much faster than I had anticipated. “It’s done. Now, please don’t distract me; I need to finish a few things,” he said, quickly pushing my laptop aside and reopening his project file.

Panic surged through me. Fearful he would finish in time, I did something horrible. Next to Michael’s laptop was a cup of coffee. I knocked it over, pretending it was an accident, and it spilled all over his laptop.

“No! Lucy, what have you done!?” Michael shouted, grabbing the laptop and trying to save it. But it was too late. The laptop wouldn’t start.

“Oh, I’m so sorry…” I stammered, guilt washing over me.

Michael looked at the laptop in disappointment, then checked the time on his phone and sighed sadly. He typed something on his phone and slowly took off his coat, sitting back at his desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay… I’ll have to redo the project on another computer. Don’t worry about it,” he said, clearly frustrated.

I felt terrible. Until I saw the result of my actions, I hadn’t realized what I had done. But it was done, and nothing could change it. Mom probably wouldn’t be too upset; she would find a better match. That’s what I told myself to feel better.

Returning to my desk, I felt even worse. I was a terrible daughter, colleague, and person. I called my mom and heard her quiet, sad voice.

“Maybe this isn’t for me, sweetheart. I think I’ll stop using the app; it’s too hard for me,” she said softly.

“Mom, don’t worry, I’ll come over tonight,” I replied, my heart breaking.

I knew I had to fix things. So I went to Michael’s office once more. “Michael, do you have a minute?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

“There is one more thing I want to ask you…” I needed to make things right.

That evening, I knocked on my mom’s door. My heart raced as I waited, knowing I had to come clean. The door opened, and there stood my mother, looking shocked as she saw me standing with Michael.

“Lucy? What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise.

Michael looked equally bewildered. “Why did you bring me here, Lucy?” he asked. He had been kind enough to give me a ride after work, not knowing I had a bigger plan in mind.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Mom, Michael, I need to confess something. I tried to sabotage your date,” I blurted out, feeling a mix of guilt and relief.

Phoebe’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

Michael frowned, looking between me and my mom. “Lucy, what do you mean?”

I felt the weight of my actions pressing down on me. “Phoebe is my mom. When I found out you were going on a date, I panicked and only thought about myself. I worried about how it would affect me and focused only on my feelings. In my selfishness, I forgot how this would impact you,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

Phoebe’s expression softened as she stepped closer. “Lucy, why would you do that? You know I haven’t dated in so long.”

“I know, Mom. And that’s why I feel so terrible,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “I was scared and selfish. I didn’t think about how happy this could make you. I was only thinking about myself and how awkward it would be to have my boss as my stepfather.”

Michael looked thoughtful, his initial shock giving way to understanding. “Lucy, I had no idea Phoebe was your mother. But I appreciate your honesty. It takes courage to admit you were wrong.”

I nodded, wiping away a tear. “I’m really sorry. Now, I realize that you two might be perfect for each other. Maybe fate brought you together because you’ve both had such a hard time finding someone.”

Phoebe smiled gently. “Sweetheart, I understand why you felt that way. But you need to know that my happiness means the world to me, and if Michael can bring that happiness, then we should give it a chance.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Lucy, your mom is a wonderful woman. I would be honored to get to know her better.”

I felt a sense of relief wash over me. “Now that you know the truth, I just want to say one thing. No matter what happens, if you’re happy, then I’m happier. I hope I can fix my mistake.”

Phoebe gave me a warm hug. “You already have, sweetheart. Thank you for being honest.”

She then turned to Michael and invited him inside. “Come on in, Michael. Let’s have that dinner.”

Michael smiled and stepped inside. “Thank you, Phoebe.”

My mom looked at me and extended the invitation. “Would you like to join us, Lucy?”

I shook my head with a smile. “No, Mom. This evening should be yours. Enjoy it.”

As the door closed behind them, I felt a surge of joy. I got into my car and drove home, feeling lighter and happier. After all, I was right—love knows no age.

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I Didn’t Tell My Husband’s Family I Speak Their Language, and It Helped Me Uncover a Shocking Secret about My Child…

I thought I knew everything about my husband—until I overheard a conversation between his mother and sister that shattered my world. When Peter finally revealed the secret he had been hiding about our first child, everything I believed in crumbled, leaving me questioning our entire relationship.

Peter and I had been married for three years. Our relationship had begun during a magical summer, where everything seemed to fall into place effortlessly. He was exactly what I’d been searching for—smart, funny, and kind. When we found out I was pregnant with our first child just months after getting together, it felt like fate.

Now, we were expecting our second child, and on the surface, our life seemed perfect. But things were not as they appeared.

I’m American, and Peter is German. In the early days, the cultural differences felt exciting. When Peter’s job relocated us to Germany, we moved there with our first child, thinking it would be a fresh start. But the transition wasn’t as smooth as I had hoped.

Germany was beautiful, and Peter was overjoyed to return home. But I struggled to adjust. I missed my family and friends, and Peter’s parents, Ingrid and Klaus, were cordial but distant. They didn’t speak much English, but I understood more German than they realized.

At first, I didn’t mind the language barrier. I thought it would help me learn and integrate better. But soon, I began to overhear unsettling comments.

Peter’s family visited often, especially his mother and sister, Klara. They would sit in the living room, chatting in German while I stayed busy in the kitchen or looking after our child. They seemed to forget that I could understand them.

“That dress doesn’t suit her at all,” Ingrid remarked one day, not bothering to lower her voice.

Klara smirked and added, “She’s gained so much weight with this pregnancy.”

I glanced down at my growing belly, feeling their words sting. I was pregnant, yes, but their judgment cut deep. Still, I remained silent. I didn’t want to confront them—at least not yet. I wanted to see just how far they would go.

One afternoon, though, I overheard something far more hurtful.

“She looks exhausted,” Ingrid said as she poured tea. “I wonder how she’ll manage with two kids.”

Klara leaned in and whispered, “I’m still not convinced that first baby is even Peter’s. He doesn’t look anything like him.”

I froze. They were talking about our son.

Ingrid sighed. “That red hair… it’s definitely not from our side of the family.”

Klara chuckled, “Maybe she hasn’t been completely honest with Peter.”

They both laughed softly, unaware that I had heard every word. I stood there, paralyzed. How could they even suggest something like that? I wanted to confront them, but I stayed silent, my hands trembling.

After the birth of our second baby, the tension only grew. Ingrid and Klara visited, bringing forced smiles and congratulations, but I could feel something was off. Their whispers and glances made it clear they were hiding something.

As I sat feeding the baby one afternoon, I overheard them talking in hushed tones.

“She still doesn’t know, does she?” Ingrid asked.

Klara laughed. “Of course not. Peter never told her the truth about their first baby.”

My heart stopped. What truth? What were they talking about? I felt my pulse race as panic washed over me. I had to know what they meant.

That night, I confronted Peter. I called him into the kitchen, my voice barely steady.

“Peter,” I whispered, “what haven’t you told me about our first baby?”

He froze, his face turning pale. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, with a heavy sigh, he sat down and buried his face in his hands.

“There’s something you don’t know,” he said, guilt written all over his face. “When you were pregnant with our first… my family pressured me to take a paternity test.”

I stared at him, struggling to comprehend his words. “A paternity test? Why would you need to do that?”

“They didn’t believe the baby was mine,” Peter explained, his voice breaking. “They thought the timing was too close to when you ended your previous relationship.”

My head spun. “So you took the test? Without telling me?”

Peter stood, his hands trembling. “It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you! I never doubted you. But my family wouldn’t let it go. They kept pushing me, and I didn’t know how to make them stop.”

“And what did the test say?” I demanded, my voice rising in panic.

Peter hesitated, his eyes filled with regret. “It said… I wasn’t the father.”

The room felt like it was collapsing around me. “What?” I whispered, barely able to breathe. “How could that be?”

Peter moved closer, desperate to explain. “I know you didn’t cheat on me. I know the baby is mine in every way that matters. But the test came back negative. My family didn’t believe me when I told them it had to be wrong.”

I stepped back, shaking. “So you’ve known this for years and never told me? How could you keep something like this from me, Peter?”

Peter’s face crumpled. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “I knew it didn’t change anything for me. The test didn’t matter. I wanted to protect you from the pain and confusion. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Tears streamed down my face. “You should’ve trusted me,” I said, my voice trembling. “We’ve been raising him together, and you’ve been his father. We could’ve handled this together, but instead, you lied to me.”

Peter reached for my hands, but I pulled away. “I know,” he whispered. “I was scared. I didn’t want you to think I doubted you.”

I needed air. I walked outside into the cool night, hoping it would calm the storm raging inside me. How could he have kept this from me? How could he have known and said nothing?

For a few moments, I stared up at the stars, trying to make sense of it all. Despite everything, I knew Peter wasn’t a bad person. His family had pressured him, and he had made a terrible mistake. But he had always stayed by my side, and by our son’s side. He had lied, but out of fear, not malice.

After wiping away my tears, I knew I had to go back inside. We couldn’t leave things unresolved.

When I returned to the kitchen, Peter was sitting at the table, his face buried in his hands. He looked up when he heard me, his eyes red and swollen.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

It would take time for me to heal from this, but I knew we couldn’t throw away everything we’d built. We had a family, and despite the hurt, I still loved him.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said softly. “Together.”

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