A poor mother of quintuplets gets a pleasant surprise when she runs out of money at the grocery store and a stranger steps in to help her.
Rachel and her husband Jack were overjoyed when they found out they were expecting quintuplets. They had been trying for a child for years, and when they were blessed with five children at once, they couldn’t control their joy.
Jack was a truck driver who made a solid living, so when the babies were born, it was easy for Rachel to quit her job to care for their children. Things went on swiftly for four years; Rachel and Jack never expected anything to go wrong. But something did, and Rachel was at a loss.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
One day, Jack left for work early in the morning and never returned. It was their wedding anniversary, and Rachel had tried to stop him since she had a nagging feeling something wasn’t quite right. But Jack had managed to talk her around. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be home on time. I promise.”
But Jack didn’t keep his promise. Later that evening, Rachel got a call from the cops informing her that he had passed away in a truck collision. The young widow sobbed incessantly, but nothing would change. Jack was gone, and she’d have to embrace the role of the man of the house.
Because her kids were just four years old, she couldn’t leave them alone at home. Hiring a nanny was out of the question because savings were limited, and there was no income. She couldn’t even ask her neighbors for help because they were anything but friendly.
Distraught by the situation, Rachel couldn’t even get to grieve the loss of her husband properly as she threw herself into work to support her children. She began knitting scarves and hats and selling them for a living, but problems arose when summer arrived. Her talent could no longer help her, and money was tight.
One day, she was at a grocery store buying items for her sons’ birthday, but the prices there made her brow furrow. “When did the price of cocoa powder go up? $5 for a small one?! Ughh, I haven’t bought half of the items yet, and the total is already $50! Jesus! I need to put some items back.”
She returned the cocoa powder on the shelf and got a package of generic cocoa biscuits instead as a substitute for cake flavoring. She proceeded to the next aisle just as one of her sons, Max, started insisting on buying him some candies. “Mommy! Can you please get me candies? Please?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Oh, honey!” Rachel paused. “Candies are not good for you. Doctors say that candies make your teeth bad. They’re also a little expensive, and mommy needs to bake a cake for your birthday, so she’ll have to buy the ingredients for them.”
But the four-year-old boy wouldn’t understand that. He began crying loudly, which attracted some of the shoppers’ attention. “No, mommy! I want it! I WANT CANDY!”
“Yes, mommy! We want candies too! PLEASE!!!” cried the other four boys in unison.
Rachel almost panicked in the store when everyone started staring at her, and she had to give in to her children in the end. However, when she approached the cashier to pay the bill, yet another trouble awaited her.
“How hard is it to check the prices before buying something?” the cashier, Lincy, grumbled. “You’re $10 short, so I’ll have to take some things out of here.” She picked up the chocolate cookies, candy bars, and a few other items and began preparing the bill, but Rachel stopped her.
“Oh, please don’t remove those items. Umm… let’s do one thing. I’ll remove the bread and….” Rachel began picking and choosing the items to remove.
Help can sometimes come from unexpected places.
Meanwhile, Max walked away to the aisle where milk cartons were placed, but Rachel was too busy to notice that. He was walking around when he came across an older woman. “Hi there, young man! I’m Mrs. Simpson. What’s your name? And what are you doing here alone?” she asked gently, smiling at him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Hello, Mrs. Simpson. I’m Max, and I’m four years old. How old are you?”
The older woman blushed. “I’m just a little older than you, Max. Let’s say 70? Where is your mother?”
“Mommy is fighting with someone. She says mommy doesn’t have enough money, and we need to leave some things here.”
“Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Simpson inquired worriedly. “Can you take me to your mommy?”
The boy nodded and dashed over to the check-out counter with Mrs. Simpson. Lincy had grown impatient with Rachel and was lashing out at her. “Look, woman! If you can’t afford stuff, don’t come here in the first place! Now move! Other customers are awaiting their turn!” She pushed Rachel’s bag at the side and motioned for the next customer to approach her. “Next!”
“No, please wait…” Rachel had just started speaking when a voice cut her off.
“There’s no need to remove those items. Your bill is already covered!” Mrs. Simpson approached Lincy and handed her her credit card. “Ring in all the items including the ones you removed. It’s on me.”
“Oh no, please,” Rachel intervened. “I’m afraid I can’t take that from you. It’s fine.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” the older woman insisted, and Rachel finally gave in.
As they cleared their bills and walked out of the store, Rachel couldn’t stop thanking her. “Thank you so much for helping us. I’m sorry I can’t pay you the money right now, but please visit us sometime. Here, this is my address,” she said, handing her a note on which she scribbled her address. “I’d love to treat you to some tea and cookies. I make really good cookies.”
“Oh, that’s really sweet of you, young lady!” she replied. “I’ll see you soon, Max! Bye-bye, boys!” she added before departing.
The boys waved back at her, and Rachel was perplexed when Mrs. Simpson mentioned Max’s name in specific. “Do you know Mrs. Simpson, honey?” she asked Max gently.
“Yes, mommy! I told her you were fighting, so she helped you.”
“Oh, she’s such a sweetheart!” Rachel thought as she walked back to her car.
The next day, there was a knock on her door. “Oh, Mrs. Simpson! Please come in. You came at the right time! I just baked some cookies,” Rachel said, showing her the way inside.
As the older woman took a seat, Rachel brought her some cookies and a cup of tea. “Oh, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” she replied, reaching for the teacup. “Do you live alone with your children?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Actually, my husband died last year, so I’ve been raising my children on my own. Unfortunately, I’m not working now, so the money is tight. I had a small business selling knitted sweaters and caps, but no one buys them in the summer, and I am still looking for a job.”
“In that case, why don’t you join me at my clothing store?” the older woman proposed. “I need an assistant and would love to have you. Don’t worry; I can look after your children for you. My husband died many years ago, and we never had children. So I’m just an old lady counting down the days until God brings her home.”
“Oh my goodness, Mrs. Simpson!” Rachel cried. “How will I repay your kindness? Thank you! Thank you very much!”
“You can return my favor, darling,” Mrs. Simpson smiled. “All you have to do is make me a nice cup of tea every evening. Deal?”
“Of course, Mrs. Simpson!” Rachel said as she wiped away her tears. She started working at Mrs. Simpson’s store the next day, worked hard for months in a row, and got promoted to the role of supervisor.
When she showed Mrs. Simpson her design samples one day, the older woman recommended she start a side business and encouraged her to share some of her works on social media.
You won’t believe it, but Rachel’s designs went viral all over social media, and a famous designer soon offered her a job. But Rachel turned down the offer because she didn’t want to leave her job at Mrs. Simpson’s store. She now lives with Mrs. Simpson, and her children call the older woman Grandma Simpson out of affection.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
What can we learn from this story?
- Help can sometimes come from unexpected places. When Rachel ran out of money, Mrs. Simpson stepped in to help her.
- Goodness is like a boomerang; it always comes back to you in some form. Mrs. Simpson was all alone after her husband’s death, but after helping Rachel, she gained a loving family and five adorable grandsons.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about an older woman who can’t recognize her children but ends up recognizing the sweetheart she lost 56 years ago on Valentine’s Day.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story 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.
My Mother-in-Law Filled My Home with Cockroaches to Tarnish My Reputation as a Housekeeper – My Retaliation Was Severe
Elara thought marriage would be her happily ever after, until cockroaches invaded her home and her mother-in-law made her life a living nightmare. But when a dark secret blurred the line between victim and villain, Elara realized that revenge was the only way out.
I’m Elara, and I’ve been married to my husband, Jacob, for about a year now. Life, for the most part, has been good, really good, actually. We settled into married life with ease, enjoying the simple pleasures of being together.
Jacob is everything I could have asked for in a husband. He is kind, supportive, and always there when I need him. But, as with most things in life, there’s a catch.
That catch is my mother-in-law, Agnes.
From the very beginning, it was clear as day that she never liked me. Whether it was the way she looked at me or the not-so-subtle digs she made, her attitude was unmistakable. I’m not sure what I did to deserve her disdain, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that she saw me as an intruder in her son’s life.
Still, she’s Jacob’s mother, and for that reason alone, I’ve tried my best to live with it. To smile through her snide remarks and keep the peace, for Jacob’s sake. But no amount of forced smiles could prepare me for what came next.
Just when I thought I could handle her passive-aggressive digs, things took a turn for the worse.
For the past month, my house has felt like something out of a nightmare. No, scratch that. MY LIFE has felt like something out of a nightmare.
It started with a cockroach here and there. One scuttling across the kitchen counter. Another creeping along the bathroom floor.
But soon, they were everywhere. And I mean EVERYWHERE! The kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, hell, even our bedroom wasn’t safe. I’d wake up in the middle of the night feeling a tickle on my arm, only to flick on the light and see a roach making itself at home on my bed.
We called pest control multiple times. We bought traps, sprays, you name it. But no matter what we did, the roaches kept coming back, like they had some vendetta against me. And to top it all off, my mother-in-law just couldn’t resist rubbing it in.
“Honestly, Elara,” she’d say with that sickly sweet tone of hers, “you really should take better care of the house. Jacob deserves a clean home. How can you let it get this bad?”
It didn’t stop there. One afternoon, as she sipped tea in our living room, a roach had the nerve to crawl up the wall. Agnes’s eyes followed it with a look of exaggerated horror.
“My goodness, Elara,” she gasped, clutching her chest as if she were witnessing a crime. “I can’t imagine how embarrassed you must be, living in these conditions. I never had this problem when Jacob was growing up.”
Then there was the time she “helpfully” brought over a stack of cleaning supplies, dumping them on my kitchen counter with a too-bright smile. “I thought you could use these, dear,” she said, her voice oozing with false concern. “Maybe they’ll help you get a handle on things. I’d hate for people to think you can’t keep a clean house.”
Each comment was a jab, a twist of the knife, making me feel smaller and more inadequate every time. It was as if she reveled in my struggle, her words like salt in an already festering wound.
Every time she opened her mouth, it took everything in me not to scream. I’d nod, smile, and tell her I was doing my best, but inside, I was seething. This isn’t my fault, you old witch! I wanted to shout. But of course, I couldn’t do that. Not to Jacob’s mother.
But then, the universe threw me a bone. Or rather, Agnes made a mistake. She’d come over to “check on us” again, dropping her little barbs like confetti. As she left, she accidentally left her handbag on the couch. When I went to pick it up and move it, a receipt fluttered out. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but something caught my eye.
It was from a pet store. But not just any pet store—one that specialized in reptiles. And the item purchased? LIVE COCKROACHES!
My blood ran cold. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at that stupid piece of paper in my hand. And then, slowly, the realization hit me. Agnes was behind the infestation. She’d been sabotaging me, setting me up to look like the world’s worst housekeeper.
The anger that flared up inside me was blinding. I could feel it burning in my chest, my hands trembling with the force of it. But along with the anger came something else—something darker.
I wasn’t just going to confront her. No, that would be letting her off too easily. I was going to get revenge.
I stormed out of the house, receipt still clenched in my hand, and got into my car. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I needed to strike back. Hard. As I drove, my thoughts raced, and then it hit me. I made a quick detour to that same pet store. If she wanted to play dirty, then I’d go nuclear.
Inside, I found exactly what I was looking for—a potent animal attractant. The kind hunters use to lure wild animals from miles away. The plan formed in my head like a beautiful, terrible flower, blooming with each passing second.
When I finally pulled up to Agnes’s house, night had fallen. She lived on the outskirts of town, right next to the woods, which made this perfect. I crept around her yard, spreading the attractant everywhere. The bushes, the flower beds, even the base of the house itself. I didn’t stop there.
I slipped inside — she always left the back door unlocked, trusting as ever — and sprinkled some inside too. The whole time, my heart raced with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
By the time I finished, I was practically shaking with anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen. But for now, I went home, crawled into bed, and let sleep take me. And oh, how sweet that sleep was.
I dreamed of revenge, of Agnes’s horrified face, of the chaos I had unleashed, and I drifted deeper into that blissful darkness, savoring every second.
Then, just as I was reliving the final moments of my delicious payback, the shrill ring of the phone yanked me from my dream. I groggily reached for it, my heart pounding. It was Jacob, and from the frantic tone of his voice, I knew something big had happened.
“Elara, you won’t believe this,” he said, half laughing, half in shock. “Mom’s house was… attacked last night!”
I sat up in bed, trying to sound groggy. “Attacked? By who?”
“Not who—what. Animals. The whole yard was swarmed! Deer, moose, foxes, even birds! They trashed everything! They tore up the garden and broke the fences. And the smell… God, the whole place reeks. It’s like the animals turned the yard into their personal toilet.”
It took everything in me to keep from bursting out laughing. “That’s awful! What’s she going to do?”
“She’s coming to stay with us until it’s cleaned up. She doesn’t have a choice.”
I felt my stomach drop. Great, I didn’t think this through. But I couldn’t let him hear the panic in my voice. “Oh, okay. We’ll make it work.”
When Agnes arrived later that day, the look on her face was priceless. She was humiliated, furious, and worst of all, powerless. She barely acknowledged me as she walked inside, nose wrinkling at the sight of the cockroaches that still plagued our house.
“Oh, don’t mind them,” I said sweetly. “They just won’t go away, no matter what we do.”
I waited until later that night, after Jacob and I were alone, to show him the receipt. He stared at it, his face hardening as the truth sank in.
“She did WHAT?” he exclaimed, disbelief giving way to anger.
“Apparently, she’s been planting roaches in the house this whole time. I found this after she left yesterday,” I said, handing him the damning piece of paper.
Jacob stormed into the guest room, confronting Agnes right then and there. She tried to deny it, but the receipt was undeniable. She stammered out an apology, her face going red with shame.
“I didn’t think it would go this far,” she mumbled, eyes glued to the floor.
“Well, it did,” Jacob snapped. “And you’re paying for the pest control and all the damage you caused. Until it’s done, you’ll have to live among the cockroaches YOU brought into our lives.”
As I listened to their exchange, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Sure, I hadn’t planned on Agnes moving in, but at least now she was getting what she deserved.
Lying in bed that night, I felt a deep, dark satisfaction settle over me. Revenge might not always be sweet, but sometimes, it’s just what you need to get by. And as for Agnes? Well, let’s just say she’ll be sleeping with the roaches tonight.
And for many nights to come.
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