
When a mysterious package arrives at Kate and Josh’s home, they are confused to see that the sender is Josh’s estranged father. But things get even stranger when Josh finds a ticking box inside the gift — a beautiful pillow. A confrontation occurs, and Josh is left battling with the truth. Should he forgive his father, or act like their relationship is nonexistent?
Josh had just taken their daughter, Emily for a stroll around the garden when the doorbell rang, signaling that the day needed to begin.

A person holding a baby’s hands | Source: Unsplash
“I have a package for you,” the delivery man said as I opened the door.
I signed and carried the box into the kitchen. Our third wedding anniversary was this week, and Josh was always ordering things for me.

A person with a brown cardboard box | Source: Pexels
“I just want to surprise you, Kate,” he said one day while we were lounging on the couch. “It’s just the little things, you know?”
So, naturally, as I took the package to the kitchen, I just assumed that it was from him.

A couple on a couch | Source: Pexels
Until I took a pair of scissors and cut through the thick tape. Opening the package, I found a beautifully embroidered pillow, a note sticking out beneath it. It would have matched our living room décor perfectly.
Happy Anniversary, Josh and Kate! – Taylor.

A package with a pillow inside | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I reveled in the kindness of the gesture. But then I remembered that there was no way possible that Josh would accept this gift.
“Hey, what’s this?” Josh said, coming back into the kitchen with Emily on his shoulders. “Did we order something?”

A man carrying his daughter | Source: Pexels
“Well, it’s a gift,” I said cautiously. “From your father.”
Josh pulled the note from me, his eyes flying across the paper.
I wondered what he was going to do. Josh and his father had a very complicated relationship. When Josh was a child, Taylor had abandoned him and his mother.
He had been seeing another woman, and when it finally came down to a choice, Taylor had chosen the other woman.

A mother and son | Source: Pexels
Josh had been seven, and he had never recovered from it. He told me all about it one evening when we went out for dinner.
“A father is supposed to choose you, Kate. But he went ahead and left us behind so that he could start a new life with his mistress. That’s not how this works.”

A couple having dinner | Source: Pexels
I understood his point of view. Of course, he had just wanted his father to be there for him and his mother.
Instead, Taylor had other ideas.
“He said that he needed to be happy, and that my mother was too strict with him. He had a job, but he was always doing illegal things on the side. So he packed up his things and left.”

A man with packed bags | Source: Pexels
“What do you mean?” I asked, shocked that Josh had been exposed to something like that at such a young age.
“Money, swindling it. Gambling, all that,” my husband said as he picked up his glass of whiskey.
And that was it. Josh didn’t speak to him again until a year before we got married.
Taylor had heard about our upcoming wedding through other relatives, and he thought it was the perfect opportunity to try and make things right between them.

A person holding a phone | Source: Unsplash
But Josh refused.
“I don’t want him around us on our special day, Kate. It’s not going to benefit anyone. And if anything, seeing him will spoil everything for me.”
“And you don’t think you’d regret it?” I asked as I folded wedding invitations into envelopes.
“Not at all,” Josh replied, picking up an envelope. “For all we know, someone will come and crash the ceremony because he owes them money.”

A wedding invitation | Source: Pexels
And that was that. Topic closed.
I didn’t want to push it. I knew it was up to him to deal with it later if he regretted it. I would support him, but I wouldn’t want to overstep anything, especially because Taylor sounded like a lot to deal with.

A couple embracing | Source: Pexels
When Emily was born, Taylor tried to get into our good books one more time. He wanted to reach out and try to make things right with Josh so that he could have his role of being a grandfather.
“I don’t want him around us. I don’t want him around our child. Please, Kate, don’t fight me on this one. This man is bad news,” my husband said, carrying our baby.

A newborn baby’s feet | Source: Pexels
So that was it.
Which brings us back to the present.
Josh picked up the pillow and felt it up and down; he even put it to his ear, his eyes widening.
“Sweetheart, we can’t keep this pillow!” he said.

A shocked man | Source: Pexels
Without another word, he rushed over and threw it out the back door.
“Josh, what’s going on?” I exclaimed, leaving Emily in her high seat with fruit slices.
“It’s ticking, Kate! There’s something inside. He’s up to something.”

A person cutting fruit | Source: Pexels
“Ticking?” I said. “What do you mean?”
We both went outside.
We stood over the pillow lying innocently among our garden flowers. I hesitated, then reached down to listen.
Sure enough, there was a soft ticking sound.

Yellow garden flowers | Source: Pexels
“Oh,” I said, shocked. I had been convinced that Josh had been hearing things that weren’t there.
Why would Taylor want to hurt us in any way?
“Take out your phone and video this entire thing,” Josh said as he bent to pick up the pillow. “Just in case something happens or there’s something illegal in there.”

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels
With a deep breath, Josh tore the pillow open to reveal a small, mysterious box equipped with a timer.
“What the hell is that?” I murmured, dread creeping up my spine.
“Let’s find out,” Josh’s jaw was set. “Call him.”
I dialed Taylor’s number, my hands trembling.

A man holding a box | Source: Unsplash
“Hi, Kate,” he said, his voice cheery. “Did you get my package? I didn’t know what to get you, but I knew that I had to get something.”
“There’s something inside the pillow,” Josh said. “A box. It’s making a sound. What is it?”
“Please be honest,” I said.
“It’s a gift, Kate. For your anniversary,” Taylor’s voice was calm, almost soothing to me.

A woman on the phone | Source: Pexels
“The sound is probably the timer; it’s supposed to make a sound and open on the day,” he said. “There’s something in there.”
My husband snatched the phone from my hand.
“Do you really think we want anything from you? What’s really in the box, Dad? Is there something that shouldn’t be there? Something illegal?” Josh demanded.

An angry man on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Please, Josh,” he said. “It’s just a gesture. I mean absolutely no harm.”
“If you truly mean that, then stay out of our lives.”
“Wait, Kate,” Taylor said. “Just open the box, okay?”
Taylor sighed deeply, and Josh reached out and cut the call.
I looked at my husband; he seemed confused by it all. I knew that he was curious about what was inside the little box, but he was traumatized by everything his father had done.

An expressionless man | Source: Pexels
“What do you want to do?” I asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said, holding his head.
“Let’s open it,” I said. “If he wanted me to open it, then there’s no way that he’s trying to hurt us, darling. Okay?”
Josh nodded slowly, finally accepting it for what it was. His father had simply wanted to reach out to us and give us a gift. That maybe everything was as easy as it seemed.

A man holding a phone | Source: Unsplash
“But record it, okay?” Josh said.
I picked up my phone again and began recording.
My husband pried the box open, revealing its contents: a check for $100,000.
Josh stared at the check, his emotions flying across his face as he tried to make sense.
“What is he playing at, Kate?” Josh asked, stunned. “There’s no way that this is clean money. He must be trying to cover up for something.”
But before we could process this further, Taylor called back.

An uncertain man | Source: Pexels
I answered, hesitant.
“We found the check,” I said. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I’m dying, Kate,” he confessed quietly. “I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, and I know that Josh hates me. But that money is for you guys. And if Josh doesn’t want it, then keep it for Emily’s future. For school. Nobody needs to know that it came from me.”

A bank cheque | Source: Flickr
I walked inside the house, realizing that we had left Emily alone for too long. Not that it mattered, because our daughter was sitting quietly by herself and eating her fruit.
Josh was right behind me.
“Dad,” he said, taking the phone from me. “If you’re really serious about your health, then please, we need to talk. No more games.”

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Thank you, Josh,” Taylor’s voice came through the phone. “You tell me when.”
We arranged to meet Taylor at a park later that week; it wasn’t far from us, and we often took Emily there.
As the day arrived, Josh was visibly nervous, fidgeting as we waited on a secluded bench.
When Taylor arrived, he looked frail and worn.

A secluded park bench | Source: Pexels
“I’m so sorry for everything. I was a terrible father. I don’t have much time left, but I want to spend it making amends.”
Josh took a long breath.
“It’s not easy, Dad. But I’m willing to try. For Emily’s sake, so that one day, she’ll know that her grandfather carried her through school.”

A smiling little girl | Source: Pexels
While Josh and my father-in-law spoke, I set up the picnic that I had brought along with me. I figured that if anything awkward happened, we all still needed to eat.
As we left the park, Josh squeezed my hand, a weight lifted from his shoulders.
“Maybe it’s good that pillow showed up, after all,” he mused, a small smile breaking through.
Things could only get better from here, right?

A picnic setup | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one
Leighton, after witnessing how her parents celebrated their anniversary, is sure about one thing — when she gets married, she will do just that. But when her anniversary rolls around, her husband skips their romantic dinner and lies about a meeting.

A newlywed couple at the beach | Source: Pexels
Curiosity prevails, and Leighton follows Josh, only to find him at a motel with the first person he ever loved. Is there a hidden truth, or is the story exactly what it looks like?
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.
I Booked a $2,000 Rental for a Group Trip, but No One Paid Me Back Their Share of the Cost – They Didn’t Get Away with It

Excitement for their weekend getaway turned into frustration as Sarah’s friends dodged paying their share of the $2,000 cabin rental. Little did they know, she had a plan to make sure they didn’t get away with it.
Every year, my friends and I plan a girls’ weekend getaway. We take turns organizing, and this year, it was miy turn! I was excited to find the perfect spot: a cozy cabin nestled right on a sparkling lake.
We all squealed with delight when I sent the pictures.

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
The place looked like it came straight out of a magazine. It had a cozy cabin with a fireplace, stunning views of the lake, and even a hot tub.
The total cost was $2,000 for the three-night stay, which amounted to a very reasonable $250 each for our group of eight.
“Since I went ahead and booked the cabin, I covered the upfront cost,” I told my friends. “But to make things easier, I’d appreciate it if you could all pay me back before the trip. Does that work for everyone?”

A woman sitting in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“Sounds perfect, Sarah!” Mary chimed in first. “Thanks for taking care of that.”
“Absolutely, no problem at all,” echoed Ella.
“Great, that works for me too!” chimed in Brittany.
One by one, everyone around the table agreed.
“Yep, sounds good”
“No worries, I can do that.”
The confirmations rolled in. It seemed everyone was happy to handle their share and promised to pay me before the trip started.
Easy peasy, right?
Wrong.

Close-up of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
As the trip approached, the easy peasy turned into oh-so-frustrating.
First, it was Mary. “Hey Sarah,” she chirped, “my car needs new brakes, so I might be a little late on my payment. I’ll get it to you next week.”
A week later, it was Brittany’s turn. “Ugh, student loans are killing me this month. Can I hold off until next payday?”
“I just need to wait until my next paycheck,” Melissa told me.
Weeks went by, and as I reminded them to pay back, they came up with more excuses.

Close-up of a phone in a woman’s hands | Source: Pexels
Each excuse was new and none of them overlapped. It seemed like they were together in this.
Then came the radio silence. Nada. No texts, no calls, nothing from Ella, Dana, or even reliable old Lisa.
By the week before the trip, I was out $2,000 and feeling completely used.
The same people I called my “friends” had indirectly refused to pay me back. The people I trusted the most had suddenly decided to team up against me.
Why were they doing this?

A serious woman | Source: Midjourney
Had I done something wrong? Or was this an attempt to see how I would react to such a tricky situation? I didn’t know what it was, but it was making me super angry.
I knew I had to do something drastic, something that would make them understand I wasn’t a doormat.
As a result, I decided it was time to teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget. Now, I’m not one for confrontation, but this was ridiculous.
The night before the trip, I took a deep breath and picked up my phone to execute the first step of my plan.

A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
I sent a group text, bubbling over with fake excitement. “Can’t wait to see you all at the cabin tomorrow! Gonna be the perfect weekend getaway!”
Little did they know, I had a devious plan brewing
The next morning, I woke up extra early and hopped out of my bed. Throwing on clothes, I raced out the door, eager to transform the cabin into our own little haven.
At the grocery store, I pushed my cart down the aisles.

A grocery cart filled with goods | Source: Pexels
A giddy smile appeared on my face as I filled it with fresh fruit, cheese, and enough snacks to satisfy an army. I even got the best selection of wine and juices. I wanted to make sure my friends were well-fed and taken care of.
After paying for the snacks and drinks, I got back into my car and drove towards the cabin. It was even more beautiful in person, the sunlight glinting off the lake like a million diamonds.
I stocked the fridge with everything that I had bought.

A woman putting something in the fridge | Source: Pexels
I even prepped a bonfire for that night, complete with cozy blankets and marshmallows.
The place looked perfect. I knew my friends would have the best time of their lives here.
But here’s the catch: I took the keys and the garage door opener with me when I left for an “errand.”
Before locking the cabin, I texted all my friends that I was out for an urgent task and would make it there by the time they arrived. They trusted me, just like I did when I asked them to pay me back.
However, they broke my trust, and so did I.

A woman holding a key | Source: Midjourney
If they wanted to have a good time in the cabin, they had to follow my rules. They had to earn their weekend getaway.
I wasn’t going to let them have a good time when all they did was ignore my texts and calls.
By lunchtime, my phone started blowing up. Frantic texts and calls poured in from my friends.
“Hey, Sarah, we’re here at the cabin, but the doors are locked!” Ella said.
“Did you forget something?” Mary asked.

A woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
I kept my cool, replying with a simple, “Oh no! So sorry, guys. Must have left the keys at home. But hey, the good news is I’m on my way back now!”
Was I on my way back? No!
I was sitting at a nearby cafe, sipping on my favorite iced latte. I enjoyed reading their texts as they reached the cabin one after the other.
After I sent the last message, the frequency of their texts dropped. They felt relieved I was on my way back, but the truth was entirely different.

A woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
As their short-lived relief faded, they started calling and texting me again. This time, their messages were way more desperate. Some of my friends were angry, while others were struggling not to lose their temper.
“How can you be so forgetful, Sarah?” Lisa asked.
“I can’t believe you’re making us all wait like this!” Dana said. “I thought this was supposed to be a fun trip.”
Finally, I decided to drop the bomb.

A woman looking outside a window in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
I sent a calm message: “Look, I’ll be happy to come back and let you all in, but only once everyone has sent over their share of the rental cost.”
Silence.
Then, a flurry of activity.
Apparently, the prospect of a luxurious weekend getaway suddenly trumped car troubles, student loans, and all the other excuses they’d cooked up.
My phone buzzed with Venmo, PayPal, and Zelle notifications as payments started rolling in.
Within an hour, every penny was accounted for.

Close-up shot of a phone | Source: Pexels
“You guys could have done this before!” I said to myself before grabbing the keys and heading back to the cabin.
Their eyes lit up as soon as they saw my car. Some walked toward me, others to the door.
“Sarah! Finally!” Mary exclaimed, relief evident in her voice.
I stepped out of the car, keys in hand. “Oh, so now I’m ‘finally’ here? How convenient,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
The group fell silent, guilt spreading across their faces.

A serious woman | Source: Pexels
“Look, I’m sorry,” Brittany started. “But you have to understand, I really—”
I cut her off. “No, Brittany. You all made excuses. I trusted you, and you took advantage of that.”
Lisa stepped forward, trying to mediate. “Sarah, we messed up. But can’t we just put this behind us and enjoy the weekend?”
“Enjoy the weekend?” I scoffed. “After you all made me feel like a fool? After I had to practically blackmail you to get my money back?”
“We didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ella said softly. “We just didn’t realize—”

A woman speaking to her friend | Source: Midjourney
“Didn’t realize what? That $2,000 is a lot of money? That friendships are built on trust and respect?”
A tense silence fell over the group. For a moment, I thought confronting them was a bad idea. I thought they’d say they didn’t want to be there anymore.
I stood my ground despite the fear, letting the weight of my words sink in.
Finally, Mary broke the silence. She wrapped me in a giant hug.
“Sarah, I’m so sorry about the car thing. You were totally right to be mad.”
Brittany chimed in, “Yeah, me too. I’m sorry. We’re all sorry.”

A group of friends hugging | Source: Pexels
They all finally realized what they had done.
I took a deep breath, looking at each of them. “I’m glad you understand now. But remember, respect is a two-way street.”
We may not be planning any luxury cabin getaways anytime soon, but at least we’ll be doing it with a renewed sense of understanding and responsibility.
This whole experience definitely made for a memorable story, even if it wasn’t exactly the relaxing weekend I’d planned.
But hey, sometimes the best lessons come wrapped in a little frustration and a whole lot of determination.
What do you think?

A lakeside cabin | Source: Pexels
Here’s another story you might like: Eight hundred dollars plus. That’s what Jack’s “boys’ night out” bill came to, and he expected his wife, Lora, to foot it. Waitress Melanie, witnessing Lora’s despair, concocted a bold move to ensure Jack’s night didn’t end as he planned.
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.
Leave a Reply