A ida comum de Linette ao supermercado tomou um rumo assustador quando ela viu uma pulseira de prata na criança de um estranho — a mesma pulseira que ela havia enterrado com sua filha cinco anos atrás. Determinada a descobrir a verdade, ela mergulhou em um passado obscuro, descobrindo segredos que mudariam sua vida para sempre.
Começou como qualquer outra manhã de terça-feira. Eu estava com pressa, atrasado como sempre, e a última coisa que eu queria era lidar com a multidão no mercado. Mas eu estava sem leite, e não podia mais ignorar a geladeira vazia. As tarefas maçantes e repetitivas da vida cotidiana muitas vezes pareciam um lembrete cruel de como as coisas eram diferentes agora. Ainda assim, a vida tinha que continuar.
Retrato de Linette | Fonte: Meio da Jornada
Enquanto eu empurrava meu carrinho pelos corredores, verificando mentalmente os itens da minha lista, avistei um homem lutando com uma criança na seção de cereais. Sua filha, provavelmente com cerca de três anos, estava tendo um colapso total, completo com lágrimas, gritos e braços agitados.
O homem parecia completamente derrotado, seus ombros caídos sob o peso do que parecia ser muito mais do que apenas uma manhã difícil. Senti uma pontada de simpatia; eu já tinha estado lá antes — anos atrás.
Homem de meia idade devastado | Fonte: Midjourney
Eu me aproximei, meus instintos maternais entrando em ação. “Precisa de uma mão?”, perguntei, oferecendo a ele um sorriso que eu esperava que fosse reconfortante. O homem olhou para cima, sua expressão era uma mistura de surpresa e alívio. Era como se ele estivesse se afogando, e eu tivesse acabado de lhe jogar uma tábua de salvação.
“Obrigado”, ele disse, passando a mão pelo cabelo desgrenhado. Sua voz estava cheia de exaustão. “Somos só nós dois, e manhãs como essa podem ser difíceis. Especialmente depois que a mãe dela nos deixou há um ano.”
Bob falando com Linette | Fonte: Midjourney
Havia uma honestidade crua em sua voz que me pegou desprevenido. Não era apenas o cansaço habitual dos pais — este homem estava lutando contra o peso da tristeza. Agachei-me ao nível da menina, esperando acalmá-la.
Ela olhou para mim com os olhos cheios de lágrimas, seu pequeno rosto corado pelo esforço de sua birra. Eu gentilmente entreguei a ela uma caixa de cereal, um que era seu favorito, a julgar pela forma como ela parou de chorar instantaneamente. Seus pequenos dedos agarraram a caixa como se fosse uma tábua de salvação, e seus soluços diminuíram para fungadas silenciosas.
Uma menina triste com uma caixa de cereal | Fonte: Midjourney
“Assim está melhor”, eu disse suavemente, tentando encontrar os olhos dela com uma expressão gentil. Foi então que notei a pulseira em seu pulso — uma delicada corrente de prata personalizada com uma pequena cruz pendurada nela. Meu coração parou.
Eu conhecia aquela pulseira. Eu a tinha enterrado com minha filha.
Uma pequena pulseira | Fonte: Midjourney
Uma onda de tontura tomou conta de mim, e o mercado pareceu ficar borrado nas bordas. Minha mente correu enquanto eu tentava compreender o que estava vendo. Como a filha desse homem poderia ter algo que pertencia à minha garotinha?
Minha filha, minha doce Emily, que morreu há cinco anos após uma batalha contra a leucemia. Eu coloquei aquela pulseira em sua mão quando nos despedimos. E, no entanto, aqui estava ela, balançando no pulso da filha deste estranho como se nada tivesse acontecido.
Linette chocada | Fonte: Meio da Jornada
O homem percebeu meu olhar e me lançou um olhar curioso. “Você está bem?”, ele perguntou, preocupação aparecendo em sua voz.
Rapidamente disfarcei meu choque com um sorriso forçado. “Sim, só um pouco tonta. Vou ficar bem.”
Ele assentiu, ainda parecendo preocupado, mas, felizmente, não insistiu mais. Depois de mais alguns minutos de conversa, desejei-lhes tudo de bom e corri para terminar minhas compras. Mas minha mente estava girando. Eu não conseguia deixar para lá. Eu tinha que descobrir como aquela pulseira foi parar no pulso dela.
Linette continua comprando | Fonte: Midjourney
Pelos próximos dias, não consegui parar de pensar nisso. A pulseira era mais do que apenas uma joia; era um símbolo do meu amor por Emily, algo que eu achava que estava enterrado com ela para sempre. Até voltei à loja na mesma hora, esperando encontrá-las novamente, mas elas não estavam em lugar nenhum.
Depois de dias de noites sem dormir e preocupações sem fim, decidi abordar a situação de forma diferente. A visão daquela pulseira me assombrava, então fiz algumas pesquisas no passado. Não foi fácil, mas eu precisava de respostas. O que descobri me deixou de coração partido e furioso.
Linette sem dormir | Fonte: Midjourney
Anos atrás, a funerária que havia cuidado dos arranjos de Emily se envolveu em um escândalo. O diretor, um homem chamado Harold Simmons, foi demitido por maus tratos. Ele estava vendendo itens pessoais da falecida, incluindo lembranças destinadas a ficar com os entes queridos em seus túmulos. A pulseira da minha filha — a pulseira de Emily — foi roubada e vendida, provavelmente sem pensar duas vezes.
Eu não podia deixar a raiva me consumir, embora fosse tentador. Em vez disso, decidi entrar em contato com o homem cuja filha agora usava a pulseira de Emily. Confronto não era a resposta. Não era culpa dele, e eu sabia disso.
Linette Irritada | Fonte: Midjourney
Compartilhei a situação com minha amiga próxima, e ela conhecia o homem que concordou em me dar suas informações de contato. Foi estranho escrever a carta, mas coloquei meu coração nela. Expliquei o significado da pulseira, a dor de perder Emily e como vê-la no pulso de sua filha havia despertado emoções que pensei ter enterrado há muito tempo.
Poucos dias depois, meu telefone tocou. Era um número desconhecido, mas tive a sensação de que era ele. Atendi, meu coração batendo forte.
A esperançosa Linette em seu telefone | Fonte: Midjourney
“Olá, aqui é Linette?” perguntou a voz. Era calorosa e preocupada.
“Sim, é ela. Este é o Sr. Daniels?” Eu respondi, tentando firmar minha voz.
“Por favor, me chame de Bob”, ele disse. Houve uma pausa, e então ele continuou, “Eu li sua carta. Sinto muito, Linette. Eu não tinha ideia sobre a história da pulseira. Quando a comprei, pensei que era apenas uma bela joia para minha filha. Não consigo imaginar o quão doloroso isso deve ser para você.”
Bob falando ao telefone | Fonte: Midjourney
“Eu aprecio isso, Bob”, eu disse, minha voz suavizando. “Eu sei que isso não é culpa sua. Eu só… eu só quero consertar as coisas.”
Ele suspirou, o peso da situação evidente em seu tom. “Escute, eu gostaria de ajudar você, se você me deixar. Sou advogado e acho que podemos ter um caso contra a funerária. Isso é mais do que apenas a pulseira. É sobre o princípio, a confiança que eles violaram.”
Fiquei surpreso com sua oferta. “Você faria isso por mim?”
Linette ouvindo Bob | Fonte: Midjourney
“Absolutamente”, ele disse, com uma sinceridade que me surpreendeu. “Ninguém deveria passar pelo que você passou. Vamos garantir que ninguém mais tenha que passar.”
Nos meses seguintes, Bob e eu trabalhamos juntos no caso. Ele era implacável em sua busca por justiça, e sua gentileza era um bálsamo para meu coração ferido. Passávamos longas horas em seu escritório, examinando documentos, reunindo evidências e nos preparando para o tribunal. Sua filha, Emma, frequentemente se juntava a nós, colorindo silenciosamente ou brincando com seus brinquedos em um canto. Comecei a sentir uma conexão com ela também. Ela era doce e gentil, assim como Emily tinha sido.
Bob discutindo o caso com Linette | Fonte: Midjourney
Uma noite, depois de um dia particularmente exaustivo de trabalho, Bob olhou para mim por cima da borda de sua xícara de café. “Sabe, Linette, esse caso — não é mais só sobre a pulseira, é?”
Balancei a cabeça, sentindo um nó na garganta. “Não, não é. É sobre encerramento. Para Emily, para mim… e talvez até para você e Emma.”
Ele assentiu, com um olhar pensativo nos olhos. “Acho que você está certo. E estou feliz que estamos fazendo isso juntos.”
Linette triste | Fonte: Meio da Jornada
Finalmente, chegou o dia do julgamento. Entramos no tribunal de cabeça erguida, determinados a fazer com que nossas vozes fossem ouvidas. Bob apresentou nosso caso com paixão e precisão, destacando a dor emocional e a traição que as ações da funerária causaram.
Quando o veredito saiu, senti um peso sendo tirado dos meus ombros. Nós vencemos. A funerária foi condenada a pagar um acordo substancial, e eles emitiram um pedido público de desculpas. Mas, mais importante, senti uma sensação de encerramento. A justiça havia sido feita.
Martelo de madeira marrom | Fonte: Pexels
Depois do julgamento, enquanto estávamos do lado de fora do tribunal, Bob se virou para mim com um sorriso caloroso. “Conseguimos, Linette. Conseguimos justiça para Emily.”
Lágrimas brotaram em meus olhos enquanto eu concordava. “Obrigado, Bob. Por tudo.”
Continuamos a nos ver e, com o passar do tempo, nosso relacionamento se aprofundou. Começamos a namorar e me envolvi mais na vida de Emma. A garotinha que antes usava a pulseira que me causou tanta dor agora parecia parte da minha família.
Uma nova família | Fonte: Midjourney
No final, percebi que, às vezes, os piores momentos de nossas vidas podem levar às bênçãos mais inesperadas. A pulseira, antes um lembrete de tristeza, havia se tornado um símbolo de esperança e um novo capítulo em minha vida.
Um simples ato de gentileza para com sua vizinha muda de seis anos levou Stephanie, de 45 anos, a um turbilhão de descobertas inesperadas. O que começou como uma doce troca de bugigangas logo revelou um segredo assustador que fez Stephanie questionar tudo o que ela achava que sabia sobre a família vizinha.
Este trabalho é inspirado em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizado para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e melhorar a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não intencional do autor.
O autor e a editora não fazem nenhuma reivindicação quanto à precisão dos eventos ou à representação dos personagens e não são responsáveis por nenhuma interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida “como está”, e quaisquer opiniões expressas são as dos personagens e não refletem as opiniões do autor ou da editora.
Boy Drops a Letter into an Abandoned House’s Mailbox, Receives a Mysterious Reply the Next Day — Story of the Day
Six-year-old Ethan had recently lost his mother, leaving a deep void in his heart. In his grief, he started writing letters to her, pouring out his feelings on paper. One day, while wandering the streets, he stumbled upon an old, rusty mailbox at an abandoned house. He decided to slip one of his letters inside, never expecting anyone to see it. To his astonishment, the very next day, he found a mysterious reply waiting for him.
Ethan, a six-year-old little boy with curly brown hair, felt a constant weight on his chest since his mother passed away. His father, Jacob, seemed lost in his world of grief.
Jacob used to be a lively and attentive father, but now he barely noticed Ethan, spending most of his time staring at old photos or working late to avoid the empty house.
“Mom, I miss you so much,” Ethan whispered to his toy car.
He often imagined his mother traveling with him in the little car.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan missed her gentle voice, warm hugs, and reading bedtime stories with her every night. In his loneliness, he began writing letters to her.
“Dear Mom,
Today was another hard day without you. I miss you so much. Dad is really sad too. I don’t think he notices me much anymore. I wish you were here to hug me and tell me everything will be okay.
Love, Ethan”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He poured his heart into those letters and hoped she would hear him.
One day, while wandering around his neighborhood, Ethan stumbled upon an old, abandoned house. The paint was peeling, the windows were boarded up, and the garden was overgrown with weeds.
“Hey, Mom,” Ethan said to his toy car, “look at this old house. It’s kind of spooky but also cool, right?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He walked closer, curiosity driving him.
Ethan saw the rusty mailbox at the front gate. That day, he had brought one of his letters with him, tucked safely in his jeans pocket, intending to read it to his mom in a quiet spot. Ethan just slipped it inside the mailbox, thinking no one would ever see him.
“Mom, I’m leaving this letter here,” he whispered. “It will be our secret.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He took a step back and looked at the house again.
“Do you think anyone lives here?” he asked his car, imagining his mother’s voice answering. “Probably not, but it’s a good place for my letter.”
Ethan stood there for a moment longer, feeling a bit silly but also comforted by the act.
“Okay, let’s go home now,” he said to the car. “Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow.”
As he walked home, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother, picturing her reading his letter and smiling.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I hope you like my letters, Mom,” he whispered, clutching the toy car even tighter. “I’ll keep writing them, I promise.”
When he reached his house, his dad was still sitting at the table in the living room. Ethan paused at the doorway, watching his father for a moment.
“Dad,” he said quietly, but Jacob didn’t respond. Sighing, Ethan headed to his room, pulling out another piece of paper to write another letter to his mom.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Dear Mom,” he began, “I found a new place to leave my letters for you. It’s an old, abandoned house, and it feels like a special spot just for us…”
As he wrote, he felt the sadness lifting just a little, finding solace in the connection created, even if it was only in his imagination.
“Goodnight, Mom,” he whispered to the toy car on his bedside table before drifting off to sleep.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next day, Ethan felt a strange urge to visit the abandoned house again. He wanted to leave his new letter in that mailbox.
As he approached the gate, he noticed something different. The mailbox was slightly open. Ethan’s heart raced as he looked around.
Inside, he found a folded piece of paper. It was a letter addressed to … him. He unfolded it and began to read.
“Dear Ethan,” it started. “Thank you for sharing your beautiful words. Your letters have touched my heart. Please don’t stop writing. With love, Clara.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan was so absorbed in the letter that he didn’t hear the front door of the house creak open. A woman stepped out quietly.
She was older, with silver hair and kind, but sad eyes. She watched Ethan read her letter, a gentle smile forming on her face.
Suddenly, Ethan felt a presence and looked up, startled. He nearly dropped the letter.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The woman held up her hand in a calming gesture. “It’s alright, dear,” she said softly. “I’m Clara. I’ve been reading your letter.”
Ethan blinked in surprise. “You…you read them?”
Clara nodded. “Yes, and they’ve brought me a lot of comfort. Your letter reminded me of my own son. I lost my family years ago.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I miss my mom so much,” Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Clara stepped closer, her eyes filled with empathy.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I know, Ethan. Grief is a heavy burden to carry. But sharing your feelings, even through letters, can help lighten that load.”
A loud, angry voice interrupted them just then, “Clara!”
A tall, stern-looking man marched towards them. “It’s time you left, Clara,” Mr. Harrow said harshly. “You’ve had enough time to grieve. This house belonged to my brother, and now it’s mine.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Clara stood her ground, her eyes blazing. “There was no will, Mr. Harrow. My husband died young, along with our son. Your so-called will is a forgery!”
Mr. Harrow sneered, “You have no choice. I’m taking the house. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”
As Ethan stepped forward, trying to understand the situation, Mr. Harrow finally noticed him. “And who is this? Why are kids wandering around my property?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan, clutching his letter, stammered, “I…I was just leaving a letter for my mom…”
Mr. Harrow’s eyes narrowed, “Letter? What letter?”
He snatched the letter from Ethan’s hands and started tearing it up. “You’re littering this place with your trash!”
Ethan’s heart broke as he saw pieces of his letters flutter to the grass. He watched helplessly as Mr. Harrow destroyed his heartfelt messages.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Then Clara stepped forward and said, “How could you do that? He’s just a child, grieving his mother.”
But Ethan already run away, his mind racing.
“Why was Mr. Harrow so mean? And why did he want to remove Clara from her house? She seems so nice,” he whispered to his toy car as he ran. “Mom, what should I do?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He knew he had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that he couldn’t let Mr. Harrow win. Clara needed help, and maybe, just maybe, his father could provide it.
Breathless, Ethan clutched his toy car tighter, “I won’t let him hurt Clara, Mom. I promise I’ll help her.”
***
Distraught, Ethan burst through the front door, tears streaming down his face.
“Dad! Dad, I need your help!” he shouted, rushing into the kitchen where Jacob was sitting.
Jacob looked up, startled, “Ethan, what’s wrong?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s Mr. Harrow! He wants to kick Clara out of her house! He tore up my letters, Dad. We have to help her!” Ethan pleaded.
Jacob sighed and rubbed his temples, clearly confused.
“Ethan, calm down. I don’t understand. Who is Mr. Harrow? Who is Clara? And what letters are you talking about?”
Ethan continued to cry out, his words slurred, “Clara.. abandoned … letters .. for Mom! Mr. Harrow! Tore them up!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jacob didn’t want to deal with the situation and tried to calm Ethan down.
“Ethan, stop shouting. This isn’t our problem. You shouldn’t be getting involved in things that don’t concern you.”
Ethan was still in a panic and didn’t calm down. He continued to cry and plead with his father.
Jacob was frustrated and did not fully understand the situation. He took the torn pieces of the letters from Ethan’s hands. “That’s enough, Ethan. You need to go to your room and think about your behavior.”
Ethan felt utterly helpless, and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. His heart pounded as he ran towards the police station, determined to find someone who would listen and help Clara.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
When Ethan arrived at the station, which was on the next street, he breathlessly explained everything to the officer at the desk, hoping they would take action.
“Officer, please, you have to help! Mr. Harrow is trying to kick Clara out of her house! He tore up my letters, and he’s being so mean!” Ethan exclaimed, tears streaming down his face.
The officer listened patiently, nodding as Ethan spoke.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Calm down, son,” he said gently. “I understand you’re upset, but Mr. Harrow has already informed us about this. He’s claiming the house is rightfully his.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But Clara lives there! It’s her home!”
The officer sighed and continued, “The problem is, Clara doesn’t have any documents to prove ownership of the house. She mentioned she lost them. Without those papers, there’s not much we can do.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan felt a lump in his throat, “But that’s not fair! She’s lived there for so long! You have to help her!”
The officer shook his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I know this is hard for you to understand, but without those documents, Mr. Harrow has the legal right to the property. It’s best if you go home now. I’ll walk you back.”
Feeling defeated, Ethan nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. The officer took Ethan’s hand and guided him out of the station.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
When they arrived at his house, a worried Jacob had just returned home.
“Ethan, where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been searching for you at all the neighbors’ houses.”
Ethan looked down, “I went to the police, Dad. I thought they could help.”
Jacob sighed deeply and pulled Ethan into a hug, “I’m not mad, Ethan. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Jacob glanced at the letters on the kitchen table, the ones he had found when Ethan ran away. He had read a few of them and realized how much empathy and love Ethan had in his heart and how little attention he had been giving to his son’s feelings and struggles.
After a long moment of silence, Jacob made a decision.
“Alright, Ethan. Let’s go talk to Clara. She can stay with us until we figure this out.”
Ethan’s eyes lit up with hope. “Really, Dad?”
Jacob nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yes, really. Let’s go help her.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Father and son walked back to Clara’s house together, ready to offer her the shelter and support she needed.
Little did they know, Mr. Harrow, hidden in the shadows, was watching them with narrowed eyes, already plotting his next move to reclaim the property. He had no intention of backing down.
***
Clara, Jacob, and Ethan began living together. The three of them quickly formed a close bond.
Every morning, Clara prepared breakfast while humming a cheerful tune. Her delicious cooking and the flowers she planted in the garden brought life back into the house.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Ethan, come help me plant these flowers,” Clara called out one sunny afternoon.
Ethan ran over, excited, “What kind are they, Clara?”
“These are marigolds. They’ll add a beautiful splash of color to the garden,” she replied, handing him a small shovel.
As they worked together, Ethan chatted away, pretending to talk to his toy car. “Mom, look at these flowers! Aren’t they pretty?” he whispered, imagining his mother was there with him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jacob watched from the kitchen window, a small smile on his face. Clara’s presence had a calming effect on him. He found himself smiling more and even started joining Ethan and Clara for activities.
“Jacob, dinner’s ready!” Clara called out one evening.
Jacob came to the table, the aroma of Clara’s home-cooked meal filling the room. “Smells wonderful, Clara. Thank you.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan chimed in, “Yeah, Clara, you’re the best cook ever!”
Clara laughed, a warm, hearty sound, “Thank you, Ethan. I love cooking for you both.”
After dinner, Clara and Ethan settled on the couch with a book of fairy tales.
“Once upon a time,” Clara began, and Ethan snuggled closer, listening intently. These moments became a cherished part of their daily routine. Ethan’s sadness began to lift, bit by bit, replaced by the warmth of Clara’s love and stories.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
A few months passed quickly. The legal situation with Clara’s house was resolved in her favor. The ownership documents were found in the registry, proving her rightful claim to the house. Mr. Harrow’s will was confirmed to be a forgery, and he received only a verbal warning to stay away from Clara, as she chose not to press charges against him.
Jacob and Ethan went with Clara to her house, carrying a mix of hope and sadness.
“I don’t want you to go, Clara,” Ethan said, his voice trembling.
Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “We can still visit, Ethan.”
When they arrived, they were shocked to see the destruction. Mr. Harrow had demolished half of it with the help of hired workers and a crane.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Clara’s eyes filled with tears. “How could he do this?”
Ethan looked up at his father, his eyes pleading, “Dad, we have to do something.”
Jacob’s face hardened,. “We will, Ethan. I promise.” He turned to Clara. “I’m going to personally sue Mr. Harrow for this. He won’t get away with it.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Clara nodded, wiping her tears. “Thank you, Jacob.”
Jacob looked at Ethan, then back at Clara.
“You’ll stay with us. We’ll all work together to fix up your home. You’ve become a dear person to both of us, Clara.”
Then Ethan gave Clara his toy car. “You’re part of our family now,” he said, offering it as a sign of trust and acceptance. It was the most precious thing he had, symbolizing how much she meant to him and how she had become an important part of their lives.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Clara’s eyes softened as she hugged Ethan back. “Thank you, Ethan. Thank you, Jacob. You’ve both given me a second chance at happiness.”
Together, they headed back home, ready to face the challenges ahead. The bond they had formed was strong, and they knew that together, they could overcome anything.
As they walked, Ethan held his toy car close and whispered, “Mom, Clara is staying with us. She makes me happy, and I think you would like her too.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Chloe found her foster daughter, Alicia, covered in oil paint at home. She knew Alicia had been at Orin’s studio. Orin, their neighbor, was an artist in his fifties, and Chloe was in love with him. To stop Alicia from making a big mistake, Chloe was ready to reveal an old family secret. Read the full story here.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers 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.
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