Selflessness and kindness to strangers are not as uncommon as we might imagine. In every corner of the world, certain people go above and beyond to improve the lives of others. With the rise of social networks, joyful anecdotes continue to emerge, emphasizing the deep influence of generosity and compassion. One such amazing story occurred in Turkey, when an accidental encounter between an impoverished woman named Rita and a caring person, Shafag Novruz, turned into a lesson in humanity.
Shafag Novruz is a young professional stylist who specializes in cosmetics, styling, and bridal hairstyles. She ran into Rita, a destitute woman living on the streets. Shafag was struck by Rita’s neglected appearance and felt obligated to use her talents and resources to restore Rita’s exterior attractiveness as well as her feeling of dignity. Rita had no idea that this experience would result in a spectacular transformation that would permanently alter her life.
Rita had been facing the harsh reality of homelessness for years, accompanied only by memories of her late son. She lived on the streets, collecting bottles and bags to survive. Despite her desire to find work, Rita felt the weight of societal judgment based on her appearance. Shafag was inspired by Rita’s narrative and wanted to take up the job of changing her image to assist her reintegrate into society.
Shafag Novruz’s commitment to Rita’s transformation beyond expectations. The makeover began with a visit to the dentist, when Shafag personally paid for Rita’s teeth surgery to give her the smile she deserved. Manicures and pedicures were performed as part of the ensuing makeover. Hair care came after that. Rita’s short and damaged hair was straightened, blonded, and lengthened with hair extensions, giving her a vivid and feminine appearance.
The usage of cosmetic items, beauty treatments, waxing, fake eyelashes, and professional makeup applications performed miracles. Shafag congratulated the people behind the change in an Instagram post.The before-and-after photographs depict a nearly indistinguishable lady exuding confidence and attractiveness. Some could even think Rita looked years younger. Rita looked like a star in her magnificent black outfit, masking the truth that she was formerly destitute and battling to survive on the streets.
Even the comments on Shafag’s article acknowledged the force of this metamorphosis. One person commented on Rita’s gorgeous eyes, while others praised Shafag for her incredible work. The extraordinary development not only astounded internet users.
It had a significant impact on Rita’s self-esteem. She expressed gratitude, saying she felt more attractive and confident than she had ever been. Rita is now filled with fresh confidence and ready to face the world. She expects that her new appearance will lead to job chances, thanks to the great generosity of her benefactor, Shafag Novruz.
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
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