The house was supposed to be mine. Mom had promised it since I was little. But at my SIL’s birthday party, she handed the deed to her instead. “It’s time this house belonged to a real daughter,” she announced to the room. I felt my world collapse.
Growing up, I was always Mom’s favorite. She never tried to hide it, and honestly, neither did I. While Mark would be outside playing with neighborhood kids, I’d be helping Mom bake cookies or listening to her stories about her own childhood.
Cookies on a baking tray | Source: Pexels
“One day, this house will be yours, Sarah,” she’d say, running her hand along the worn kitchen counter. “Every scratch and dent has a story. And when I’m gone, you’ll be the keeper of those stories.”
It was never anything fancy. Just a creaky two-bedroom with warped floors, bad plumbing, and a roof that sighed in heavy rain. But it was my childhood home.
And she made sure I knew that when she passed or moved on, it would be mine.
A house | Source: Shutterstock
“What about Mark?” I asked once when I was about twelve.
Mom just laughed. “Your brother? He’ll be fine. Besides, he never appreciated this place the way you do.”
Mark never seemed to care much about the house anyway. As a teenager, he was already talking about moving to the city.
Meanwhile, I would daydream about which room would be my office and what color I’d paint the living room walls someday.
A person painting a wall | Source: Pexels
After high school, I moved out for college, then found a decent job in marketing.
As life got busy with deadlines, friends, dating disasters, and trying my best to build some savings, the promise of the house faded into the background of my mind. It became something I rarely thought about as I navigated my late twenties and early thirties.
Then, when I was thirty-three, everything changed. My grandmother passed away, leaving Mom with a decent inheritance. Not wealthy-overnight money, but enough to make some comfortable changes.
A will document | Source: Unsplash
Mom called me one Sunday afternoon. “I’m moving, sweetie. Using some of Mom’s money to get a luxury apartment closer to the senior center. All my friends are there now.”
“The house?” I asked, feeling that childhood promise stirring in my memory.
“It’s yours, sweetie. Fix it up how you like. Consider it my early gift to you. You’ve earned it.” Her voice was warm with pride. “I’m not selling it. I’m not renting it. It’s yours now.”
A living room | Source: Midjourney
I nearly dropped the phone. After all these years, she had remembered. Kept her promise.
“Are you serious?” I whispered.
“Dead serious. I’ve already talked to my lawyer. We just need to meet him to sign the paperwork to transfer it properly. But you can move in whenever you want.”
I had been saving for years to buy a place of my own. I wasn’t married, didn’t have kids, and had no co-signer. But I had enough for a small down payment and had been working full-time since I graduated.
A person working on their laptop | Source: Pexels
My studio apartment was fine, but the thought of having a home was overwhelming.
So, instead of putting that money toward a house of my own, I used it to repair hers. Now mine, supposedly.
The first weekend, I scrubbed every inch of that house, clearing out cobwebs and dust from corners Mom couldn’t reach anymore. I made lists of everything that needed fixing, including the leaky roof, the temperamental plumbing, and the electrical system that would dim during thunderstorms.
A worn-down utility room | Source: Midjourney
“Take your time with it,” Mom said when she visited that first month, touching the peeling wallpaper in the hallway. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
But I was determined. I redid the roof that summer, hiring professionals but helping where I could to save money. Fixed the plumbing when winter came. Updated the electrical system in the spring. Replaced the ancient appliances one by one as my paychecks allowed.
New appliances in a kitchen | Source: Pexels
Slowly, over two years, I poured in my savings, weekends, and heart. I painted walls, refinished floors, and planted a small garden in the backyard. Sometimes Mark would stop by, usually to borrow something, and whistle at the changes.
“Place looks great, sis,” he’d say, but never offered to help.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
Mom came by less and less as she settled into her new life. She had joined clubs, made new friends, and seemed happier than I’d seen her in years. I was happy for her, and happy in my home with all its memories and new improvements.
Soon, my house felt like the place I’d always dreamed of. I thought everything was perfect until Amanda’s birthday party changed everything.
My brother’s wife, Amanda, was hosting her 30th birthday at their townhouse.
A birthday cake | Source: Pexels
She was the kind of person who never even lifted a finger to help others unless she had something to gain. She never visited Mom, never offered to help with anything, and only called when she wanted something.
“You coming to Amanda’s birthday thing?” Mark had asked over the phone a week earlier.
“Do I have to?” I groaned.
“Mom really wants you there. Says she has some big announcement.”
A man talking to his sister on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Curious about Mom’s announcement, I showed up with a generic gift and a forced smile.
Mom arrived fashionably late, looking elegant in a new blue dress. She hugged Amanda like they were best friends, though I couldn’t remember the last time they’d spent any time together.
Halfway through the evening, Mom clinked her glass for attention. She was smiling, holding an envelope I hadn’t noticed before.
An envelope in a woman’s hand | Source: Pexels
“This family has given me so much,” she began, “but this year, I wanted to give something back. Something special.”
My stomach tightened. Something about her tone made me uneasy.
She handed the envelope to Amanda, who blinked dramatically and opened it in front of everyone.
“What is it?” someone called out.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “It’s… it’s a deed. To a house.” Her voice cracked with fake emotion.
It was a deed.
To the house.
My house.
Signed over.
A person signing a document | Source: Pexels
Everyone clapped. Amanda pretended to cry, dabbing at her eyes carefully to avoid smudging her makeup.
I just stood there, frozen, my mind refusing to process what was happening.
And then Mom turned to me and said, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “It’s time that house belonged to a real daughter.”
I couldn’t believe what was happening. How could Mom do this to me? I remember she said something about talking to the lawyer, but then she never had the time to visit the lawyer with me.
A lawyer sitting in his office | Source: Pexels
And… I didn’t force her because I didn’t mind if the house was still in her name.
After all, she was my mom, and I never thought she’d do something like this.
Once the guests got busy with food, I pulled Mom aside into the hallway.
“What did you do?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down.
She just shrugged, like she was returning a borrowed sweater, not taking away my home.
“Amanda’s going to give me grandkids. You’ve made it clear you have no man, no plans, and no children. I want this house to go to someone who’s building a real family.”
An older woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“But you promised—” My voice broke. “All that work I did—”
“They’ll appreciate it,” she cut me off. “They need a bigger place now that they’re starting a family.”
“Amanda’s pregnant?” I asked, the betrayal somehow cutting deeper.
“Not yet,” Mom admitted. “But they’re trying. And a nice house will give them space to grow.”
I left that night and never spoke to her again.
I moved out of the house within a week. Took nothing but my clothes and what little pride I had left.
An open suitcase | Source: Pexels
I used the last of my savings to rent a studio apartment. I had to start over.
Mom never reached out. Neither did Mark.
Five years passed.
Five years of rebuilding my life from scratch. New apartment. New routines. I changed jobs twice, finally landing a marketing director position I loved. I met Peter at a work conference, and we married after a year of dating. Nine months later, our daughter Amy was born.
“She has your smile,” Peter would say, watching me rock her to sleep.
A man standing in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney
We bought a small house in the suburbs, and the best part about it was that it was completely ours. No promises that could be broken.
One Saturday morning, I took Amy to the park near our new home. She was just learning to walk, tottering between playground equipment with fierce determination.
“Sarah?” a voice called out.
I turned to see Mrs. Johnson, our old next-door neighbor from my childhood home.
A woman standing in a park | Source: Midjourney
“It is you!” she exclaimed, hugging me. “And who is this beautiful little lady?”
“This is Amy, my daughter,” I said with a smile.
Mrs. Johnson’s face softened. “My goodness, you have a family now. I always knew you’d come out stronger than them.”
“Them?” I asked, confused.
She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Your mother and brother. Such a mess they’ve made.”
Turns out… Amanda had cheated on my brother.
With my mom’s new husband.
An older man | Source: Pexels
“New husband?” I repeated, stunned.
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Johnson nodded. “Your mother remarried about a year after… well, after everything happened with you. Some wealthier guy named Richard. Retired investment banker. And apparently, Amanda liked him too.”
The story spilled out. Mom had married Richard and moved into his house. Amanda and Mark had moved into my childhood home. Then, six months later, Amanda was caught having an affair with Richard.
“Amanda took everything,” Mrs. Johnson continued. “Filed for divorce from Mark, and because the house was in her name, she walked away with it. Sold it within a month to some developers. They tore it down last spring… building a duplex there now.”
A man working on a construction site | Source: Pexels
Now, Mom and Mark were living together in a small, rented apartment. Mrs. Johnson told me Mom had to sell most of her things to afford living there.
“And no grandkids,” I murmured.
“No grandkids,” she confirmed. “Such a shame. And all because she couldn’t see what was right in front of her.”
That night, after putting Amy to bed, I discussed everything with Peter and decided to call Mom.
A phone on a desk | Source: Pexels
Her voice cracked the second she heard mine.
“Sarah? Is that really you?”
“It’s me, Mom.”
She cried. Sobbed, really. Apologized over and over. Told me I was the only one who ever loved her without conditions. That she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.
“I have a daughter,” I said when she finally quieted. “Her name is Amy. She’s almost one.”
More tears from Mom. “A granddaughter? Oh, Sarah…”
I listened. I didn’t scream. I didn’t gloat.
When she asked if we could talk sometime or see each other, I said, “Family is family. I won’t let you starve. But you don’t get to use me anymore.”
I sent her a grocery delivery the next day. But I didn’t invite her over.
Grocery bags at the doorstep of a house | Source: Midjourney
Peter asked if I regretted calling. I shook my head.
“They’re still family,” I said, watching Amy sleep in her crib. “But that doesn’t mean I have to forget.”
***
Sometimes, I drive by where our old house used to stand. The duplex is almost finished now, and it’s nothing like the creaky home of my childhood. I don’t feel sad anymore. That house was never really mine, despite all the promises.
What’s mine is this life I’ve built. This family I cherish. This love that can’t be signed away on a deed or given to someone else.
And that’s worth more than any house could ever be.
A family holding hands | Source: Pexels
Millionaire Mocks Poor Woman with 3 Kids on Business Class Flight until Pilot Interrupts Him — Story of the Day
A millionaire judges a mother-of-three and criticizes her for flying business class, but when the pilot announces their arrival with a special announcement for the woman, all his complaints are washed away.
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“Ugh! You can’t be serious! Are you really making her sit here?! Miss, you better do something about it!” Louis Newman grumbled as he noticed a mother-of-three approaching his adjacent seats with the assistance of a stewardess.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the stewardess replied gently, showing him the tickets. “These seats have been assigned to Mrs. Debbie Brown and her children, and we can’t do anything about it. I’d request you to kindly cooperate with us.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“You don’t understand, Miss! I have a crucial meeting with foreign investors. Her children will keep chit-chatting and making noises, and I cannot afford to lose this deal!”
“Sir….” The stewardess had just started speaking when Debbie interrupted her. “It’s all right. I can sit somewhere else if the other passengers are willing to swap seats with my children and me. That isn’t an issue for me.”
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“Not at all, ma’am!” the stewardess shot back. “You’re sitting here because you paid for it, and you have the right to be here! It makes no difference whether someone likes it or not, and sir,” she turned to Louis, “I’d appreciate it if you could be patient until the flight is over.”
Millionaire businessman Louis Newman was annoyed that the stewardess had refused his request, but what irritated him even more was that he was forced to sit next to a woman who seemed not to belong to the business class, wearing the cheapest clothes on the flight.
He put on his AirPods to avoid being forced into conversation with the woman and turned his face away as she sat beside him, having helped her children secure themselves tightly to their seats.
Soon, the boarding process was completed, with passengers settling into their assigned seats, and the flight took off. It was the first time Debbie and her children were flying business class, so as the flight left the runway for the skies, the children began chirping in joy. “Mom!” cried her daughter Stacey. “Look, we’re finally flying! Yay!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
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Some passengers on the plane turned to look at Stacey and smiled at her innocence, but Louis had a scornful expression on his face. “Listen,” he said as he faced Debbie. “Could you please ask your children to be quiet? Because I missed my previous flight, I’m joining a meeting from here. I don’t want any kind of disruption.”
“I’m sorry,” Debbie politely replied as she motioned for the children to remain quiet. Louis’s meeting lasted almost the entire flight, and as he spoke, Debbie realized he was a businessman who was mainly into the fabrics industry, as she could see he’d mentioned fabrics frequently and had a handbook with designs.
When Louis’s meeting was finished, Debbie approached him and asked, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Louis didn’t want to talk to her, but since his meeting had gone well and the investors had agreed to the deal, he was quite pleased and let go of his arrogance. “Umm…Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
“I noticed you had a handbook with fabric samples and designs. Do you work in the clothing industry?”
“Uhhh…yeah, you could say that. I own a clothing company in New York. We just closed a deal. I hadn’t really hoped it would work, but it did.”
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“Oh, that’s lovely. Congratulations! Actually, I run a small boutique in Texas. It’s more of a family affair. It was started by my in-laws in New York. We recently opened a unit in Texas. I was really impressed with the designs you were presenting.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Louis gave her a sarcastic laugh. “Thanks, lady! But the designs that my company makes are not like some local or family boutique thing; we hire some of the best designers, and we just cracked a deal with the best designing company in the world! A BOUTIQUE, SERIOUSLY?!” He muttered loudly enough while smirking to mock Debbie.
“Oh, well,” Debbie felt humiliated by his comment, but she maintained her composure. “I – I understand. It must be something really huge for you.”
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“Something huge?” Louis smirked, shaking his head. “A poor woman like you would never understand what it means, but it was a million-dollar deal! Let me ask you this again,” he said after pausing for a brief while. “I mean, I saw your tickets and everything. I know you’re here flying business class with us, but trust me, you don’t look like someone who deserves to be here! Maybe try economy the next time and look for people who own boutiques like you?”
Debbie’s patience was wearing thin at this point. “Listen, sir,” she said sternly. “I understand; it’s my first time flying in business class, and I had trouble figuring out the check-in process and everything, but don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? My husband is on the flight with us, but…”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
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Before Debbie could finish her sentence, an announcement over the intercom signaled their arrival at JFK. However, rather than turning off the intercom after his announcement, the pilot, Captain Tyler Brown, had something more to say.
“Also I would like to thank every passenger on this flight, especially my wife Debbie Brown, who is flying with us today. Debbie, honey, I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.”
Louis’s heart skipped a beat and his face flushed with embarrassment when he realized Debbie’s husband was a pilot on the flight.
“This is my first time flying an A-class flight, and I was nervous. Thank you to my wife, who assured me that everything would be fine and decided to accompany me despite her fear of flying in order to put my mind at ease. Today is my first day back at work after a long period of unemployment. My wife and I have never had it easy, and we’ve seen a lot of struggles in our lives, but I’ve never heard Debbie complain about her situation. So, on this day, which also happens to be the day we first met, which I believe my wife has forgotten, I’d like to propose to her again on this flight. DEBBIE, I LOVE YOU, HONEY!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
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Tyler broke the protocol and came out of the pilot’s cabin at this point, proposing to Debbie with a ring on his knees. “Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me again, Mrs. Debbie Brown?”
Everyone on the plane was now fixated on Debbie and her children, who appeared to be the most beautiful family ever. As Debbie nodded yes, teary-eyed, the passengers were all applauding, but Louis was standing there perplexed and embarrassed. But Debbie was not going to let him get away with it. She approached Louis before exiting the plane and said, “A materialistic man like you, who only thinks about money, would never understand how it feels to have a loved one around you. And yes, my husband and I live a humble life, but we are very proud of it!”
What can we learn from this story?
- Never judge a book by its cover. Louis judged Debbie just because she was not wearing expensive clothes like him. It wasn’t right of him to do so.
- True love still exists. Tyler and Debbie adored each other. Their self-sacrifices for one another and Tyler’s surprise gift for her are beautiful examples of this.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a widower who ran into his wife’s stepdaughter he never knew existed.
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