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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My Husband Dumped Me as Soon as He Walked into the Hospital Ward and Saw Our Newborn Twin Daughters

“You tricked me!” Instead of celebrating our newborn twin daughters, my husband lashed out and accused me of cheating on him. With venomous words and a cruel exit, Mark shattered our family. Now, I’m going to make him pay the price for abandoning us.

I lay in the sterile white hospital bed, my heart full though my body ached. I was exhausted, but it all felt worthwhile as I stared down at the beautiful twin girls pressed to each of my sides.

A woman holding her newborn twin girls | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding her newborn twin girls | Source: Midjourney

The babies cooed softly and tears of joy spilled down my face. After years of infertility and a long, difficult pregnancy, I was finally a mom. It was the best feeling in the world!

I reached for my phone and typed a message to Mark, my husband: They’re here. Two beautiful girls. Can’t wait for you to meet them.

I hit send, a contented smile creeping across my face as I imagined his excitement.

A cell phone | Source: Pexels

A cell phone | Source: Pexels

This was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of our lives, and I never could’ve imagined how swiftly it would turn into the worst.

A while later, the door clicked open, and there he was. But instead of joy, Mark’s expression was unreadable — stony, like a man called into a meeting he didn’t want to attend.

“Hey,” I said softly, mustering a smile. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

A woman with her newborn twins | Source: Midjourney

A woman with her newborn twins | Source: Midjourney

Mark finally looked at the twins, his jaw tightening. Disappointment flickered across his face before his lips curled in disgust.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

Confusion welled inside me, pressing heavily against my ribs. “What do you mean? They’re our daughters! What’s going on with you, Mark?”

His gaze turned sharp.

A man standing in a hospital room | Source: Midjourney

A man standing in a hospital room | Source: Midjourney

I could see the anger simmering beneath the surface, ready to explode. And when it did, it was like a dam breaking.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on: you tricked me!” he snarled. “You didn’t tell me you were having girls!”

I blinked, stunned. “What does it matter? They’re healthy. They’re perfect!”

I reached for his hand, desperate to tether him to this moment. But he yanked it away, disgust etched across his face like a bad tattoo.

An angry man | Source: Midjourney

An angry man | Source: Midjourney

“It matters a lot! This isn’t what I wanted, Lindsey! I thought we were having boys!” His voice rose, bouncing off the cold walls, and I felt every syllable slice through me. “This whole family was supposed to carry on my name!”

My heart sank. “You’re serious? You’re angry because… they’re girls?”

“Darn right, I am!” He stepped back like the sight of the babies physically repelled him. “Everyone knows only boys can carry on a legacy! You… you cheated on me, didn’t you? These can’t be mine.”

A man gesturing angrily | Source: Midjourney

A man gesturing angrily | Source: Midjourney

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Air escaped my lungs as if he’d knocked it clean out of me.

“How could you even say that?” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “You’re really accusing me of cheating because I had daughters?”

But he was already pacing toward the door, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration.

“I’m not raising someone else’s kids,” he spat, his voice thick with finality. “I’m out.”

A man yelling in a hospital room | Source: Midjourney

A man yelling in a hospital room | Source: Midjourney

Before I could respond — before I could beg or scream or cry — he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him with a deafening thud. And just like that, everything I thought I knew unraveled.

I looked down at my daughters, cradled in my arms, their tiny faces serene.

“It’s okay, sweethearts,” I whispered, though my heart felt anything but okay.

And for the first time since they were born, I began to cry.

An upset woman with her twin daughters | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman with her twin daughters | Source: Midjourney

Mark disappeared. No calls. No messages. The only word I got of him was a rumor filtering through mutual friends that he was on vacation somewhere sunny, drinking cocktails with the same guys who toasted us at our wedding.

That’s right; he dumped me and went on vacation. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the ease with which he walked away, as though our life together had been a minor inconvenience.

But the worst was yet to come.

Close up of a woman's face | Source: Midjourney

Close up of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney

I was back at home, settling into a routine with the girls, when I got the first message from Mark’s mother, Sharon.

I was so relieved! Sharon was a stern woman, and I knew Mark would have to come around if his mother was on my side.

My fingers shook with anticipation as I played Sharon’s voicemail. Her voice dripped through my phone like venom.

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

“You ruined everything,” Sharon snarled. “Mark deserved sons, everyone knows that. How could you do this to him? To our family? How could you betray my son like this?”

I was so shocked, and I dropped my phone. Her words cut deeper than any insult. To them, I hadn’t just had daughters, but I had failed. And they wanted to punish me for it.

I stared down at my phone, trying to process this new avenue of attack.

A woman staring | Source: Midjourney

A woman staring | Source: Midjourney

I jumped when my phone started ringing. It was Sharon. I let it ring and watched as a new voicemail notification popped up after the ringing stopped.

Then the text messages started rolling in, each one more vicious than the last. Sharon called me every name under the sun as she lambasted me for cheating on Mark, for giving birth to daughters, for not being a good wife… it went on and on.

Mark’s entire family had turned against me. I was all alone.

Message notifications on a cell phone | Source: Pexels

Message notifications on a cell phone | Source: Pexels

I tried to keep it together, but the nursery became my sanctuary and prison at night. I’d sit in the rocking chair, holding my daughters close, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I murmured repeatedly, the words as much for me as for them. “We’ll be okay. Everything is going to turn out just fine, you’ll see.”

But there were nights I wasn’t so sure. Some nights, the weight of loneliness and fear pressed down so hard I thought I might break.

An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney

An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney

On one of those nights, I found myself weeping as I fed the girls. It all felt like too much to bear.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I sobbed. “It’s too hard. I can’t keep waiting…”

And that’s when it hit me. All this time, I’d been waiting for Mark to come around and to see sense, but he’d done nothing to make me believe that might happen. He hadn’t even called.

I looked down at my girls and knew it was time I stood up for them and myself.

A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels

A lawyer gave me the first glimmer of hope.

“With Mark’s abandonment,” she said, tapping a pen thoughtfully on her desk, “you have a strong case. Full custody. Child support. We’ll take care of visitation on your terms.”

Her words were a balm to my shattered spirit. Finally, I had some control and something to fight with. And I wasn’t going to stop there.

Mark wanted out? Fine. I was happy to divorce the jerk, but he wouldn’t get to walk away unscathed.

Divorce papers | Source: Pexels

Divorce papers | Source: Pexels

I created a new social media profile, one carefully curated to tell the story I wanted people to see.

Post after post showed my daughters’ milestones: tiny hands grasping for toys, gummy smiles, and their first giggles. Each photo was a slice of happiness, and in every caption, there was an undeniable truth: Mark wasn’t part of it.

Friends shared the posts, family members left comments, and soon, the updates spread like wildfire through our circle. Mark might have left, but I was building something beautiful without him.

A woman scrolling on her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman scrolling on her phone | Source: Midjourney

The open house was my final act of defiance. I invited everyone. The only person not welcome was Mark. And just to twist the knife, I made sure the invite said so.

My house brimmed with warmth and laughter on the big day. The twins wore matching outfits with tiny bows perched on their soft heads. Guests gushed over how beautiful they were.

Then the door flew open, and there was Mark, furious and wild-eyed. The room fell silent.

A furious man | Source: Midjourney

A furious man | Source: Midjourney

“What the hell is this?” he barked. “You’ve turned everyone against me!”

I stood, my heart pounding but steady. “You abandoned us, Mark, because you didn’t want daughters. You made your choice.”

“You robbed me of my chance to pass down my family legacy!” He retorted, eyes blazing.

“You’re not welcome here,” I said, my voice calm and almost pitying. “We don’t want or need a man like you in our family. This is my life now.”

A woman yelling | Source: Midjourney

A woman yelling | Source: Midjourney

Friends closed ranks around me, their presence a silent but powerful force. Defeated and humiliated, Mark turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Weeks later, Mark received the court papers detailing the child support, custody, and visitation arrangements. There was no escape. He’d still have to accept the responsibility of being a father, even if he was never going to be a dad to our girls.

Then came Sharon’s final message — an apology, maybe, or more bitter words. It didn’t matter. I deleted it without reading it.

A woman glancing at her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman glancing at her phone | Source: Midjourney

I was done with their family and done with the past.

And as I rocked my daughters that night, the future stretched wide open before us: bright, untouchable, and ours alone.

Here’s another story: After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight!

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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