Losing my husband shattered me. But two days after his funeral, my mother-in-law made it worse. She kicked me and my kids out, changed the locks, and left us homeless. She thought she won, but she had no idea she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
When I married Ryan two years ago, I wasn’t naive about his mother. Margaret never bothered hiding her disdain for me, her eyes always narrowing slightly whenever I entered a room, as if I brought in a bad smell along with me.
A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney
“She’ll come around, Cat,” Ryan would say, squeezing my hand under the dinner table as his mother pointedly asked him, and only him, about his day.
But she never did come around. Not to me, and certainly not to Emma (5) and Liam (7), my children from my previous marriage.
One Sunday dinner at her house, I overheard her talking to her friend in the kitchen.
“The children aren’t even his,” she whispered, unaware I was approaching with empty plates. “She trapped him with her ready-made family. Classic gold-digger move.”
I froze in the hallway, plates trembling in my hands.
An annoyed older woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
That night, I confronted Ryan, tears streaming down my face. “Your mother thinks I married you for money. She doesn’t even see Emma and Liam as your family.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened, a muscle working in his cheek. “I’ll talk to her. I promise this stops now.”
He pulled me close, his heartbeat steady against my ear. “You and those kids are my world, Cat. Nothing and no one will come between us. Not even my mother.”
Ryan was true to his word. He bought us a beautiful home in a neighborhood with good schools and tree-lined streets, far enough from Margaret that we didn’t have to see her unless we wanted to.
A kind man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
Emma and Liam bloomed under Ryan’s care. He never tried to replace their biological father, who had walked out when Liam was still in diapers. Instead, he created his own relationship with them, built on pillow forts, Saturday morning pancakes, and bedtime stories.
“You’re doing the tucking in tonight,” I said, leaning against the doorframe of Emma’s room, watching as Ryan carefully arranged her stuffed animals around her.
“Mr. Whiskers always goes on the left,” Emma instructed seriously.
“Of course,” Ryan nodded with equal seriousness. “He’s the guardian of the left side of the bed. Very important position.”
A little girl holding her teddy bear | Source: Midjourney
Later, after both kids were asleep, Ryan joined me on the couch, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“I talked to Mom today,” he said quietly.
I tensed. “And?”
“I told her she either respects my family — all of my family — or she doesn’t see me at all.” His voice was firm but sad. “I think she got the message.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “I hate that you had to do that.”
“I didn’t have to,” he corrected me. “I chose to. There’s a difference.”
A couple comforting each other | Source: Pexels
For a while, Margaret kept her distance. She sent birthday cards to the kids, showed up at Christmas with awkwardly chosen gifts, and managed to be civil to me. It wasn’t warm, but it was tolerable.
Then came the phone call that shattered EVERYTHING.
I was chopping vegetables for dinner when my phone rang. The kids were doing homework at the kitchen table, arguing good-naturedly about who had more math problems.
“Is this Ms. Catherine?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Yes.”
A startled woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“I’m calling from the hospital downtown. Your husband has been in an accident.”
The knife clattered to the counter. “What kind of accident?”
The pause lasted an eternity. “A car crash. It’s serious, ma’am. You should come right away.”
I don’t remember the drive to the hospital. I don’t remember calling my neighbor to watch the kids. I only remember the doctor’s face as he approached me in the waiting room, and how I knew before he even opened his mouth.
A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels
“I’m very sorry. We did everything we could,” he said.
My heart felt like it was going to stop beating. Ryan was gone. The only man who had ever truly loved me and loved my children as his own… was gone.
“Can I see him?” My voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
The doctor nodded, leading me down a hallway that seemed to stretch forever.
A doctor | Source: Pexels
Ryan looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping, except for the stillness. No rise and fall of his chest. No fluttering eyelids. Just stillness.
I touched his hand. It was cold.
“You promised,” I whispered, tears falling onto our joined hands. “You promised you wouldn’t leave us.”
Close-up shot of a man lying still in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
The funeral was a blur of black clothes and murmured condolences. Margaret sat in the front row, opposite me and the kids. She didn’t cry. When people approached her, she accepted their hugs with rigid dignity.
Emma clung to my hand, her small fingers squeezing mine whenever a new person approached us. Liam stood straight-backed beside me, trying so hard to be the man of the house already.
After the service, Margaret approached us. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry, her posture rigid.
“This is your fault,” she said without preamble, her voice low but sharp enough to cut.
I stared at her, not comprehending. “Excuse me?”
An angry older woman accusing someone in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
“My son is dead because of you. If he hadn’t been rushing home to you and those children, he’d still be alive.”
I froze. The police said Ryan’s accident happened on a stretch of highway nowhere near our house.
“We are his family,” I snapped, my voice trembling as I gestured to the kids. “And he loved us.”
Margaret’s lips thinned. “You trapped him. You know it, and I know it.”
Before I could respond, she walked away, leaving me standing there with my mouth open, her accusation hanging in the air between us like poison.
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
“Mom?” Liam tugged at my sleeve. “What did Grandma Margaret mean? Was it our fault Daddy died?”
I knelt down quickly, taking his small face in my hands. “No, sweetheart. Absolutely not. What happened to Daddy was a terrible accident, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Grandma Margaret is just very sad and saying things she doesn’t mean.”
I forced a smile, though my heart was breaking all over again. “Let’s go home.”
A sad little boy looking up | Source: Midjourney
Two days after the funeral, I took the kids to get ice cream, hoping the small treat might bring a moment of normalcy to our grief-stricken routine. When we returned, I nearly crashed the car in shock.
Our belongings were piled on the curb in black trash bags, like discarded garbage awaiting collection. Emma’s favorite blanket was spilling out of one bag, its pink edge fluttering in the breeze.
“Mom?” her voice trembled. “Why is my blankie outside?”
I parked haphazardly and rushed to the front door. My key didn’t work. The lock had been changed.
I knocked, then pounded my fist against the wood. “Hello? Hello!”
Personal belongings dumped outside a house | Source: Midjourney
The door swung open, revealing Margaret in her crisp linen pantsuit, looking for all the world like she belonged there.
“Oh, you’re back,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. “I thought you’d take the hint. This house belongs to me now. You and your little brats need to find somewhere else to go.”
I felt my body go cold, then hot with rage. “Margaret, this is my home.”
She scoffed. “It was my son’s house. And now that he’s gone, you have no right to it.”
Emma began to cry behind me. Liam moved closer, his small body positioned protectively in front of his sister.
A furious woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t do this,” I said, my voice shaking. “This is illegal. This is our home.”
“Sue me,” Margaret replied with a cold smile. “Oh wait, you can’t afford to, can you? Not without my son’s money.”
She stepped back and began closing the door. “I’ve changed the locks, as you’ve noticed. Don’t come back.”
The door closed in my face. Behind me, Emma’s cries grew louder.
A woman shaken to her core | Source: Midjourney
“Where are we going to sleep?” Liam asked, his voice small but trying hard to be brave.
I turned to my children, their faces pale with confusion and fear. “We’ll figure it out,” I promised, though I had no idea how.
That night, we slept in my car, parked in a lot. I reclined the front seat as far as it would go. The kids curled together in the back, covered with the few blankets I grabbed from the bags on the curb.
“It’ll be like camping,” I told them with forced cheerfulness.
A car parked in a lot | Source: Pexels
Emma fell asleep quickly, exhausted from crying. But Liam stayed awake, his eyes reflecting the parking lot lights.
“Dad wouldn’t let this happen,” he whispered.
I reached back to squeeze his hand. “You’re right. And neither will I.”
The next morning, I dropped the kids at school, assuring them I’d have everything figured out by pickup time. Then I sat in my car and broke down completely.
When I could breathe again, I called Ryan’s lawyer, Robert. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone.
A woman holding her phone | Source: Unsplash
“Catherine,” he answered warmly. “I was going to call you next week. How are you holding up?”
“Not well. Margaret changed the locks on our house. She threw our stuff out. We slept in my car last night.”
There was a pause, then: “She did WHAT?”
I repeated myself, tears threatening again.
“That’s illegal,” Robert said, his voice hardening. “Completely illegal. Does she think —” He stopped. “Did Ryan leave a will? Is that what you’re calling about?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Please tell me he did.”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“He did. In fact, I was scheduled to bring it to you next week.” He paused. “Why don’t you come to my office right now?”
An hour later, I sat across from Robert as he slid a document across his desk.
“Ryan came to see me about six months ago,” he explained. “He was worried about exactly this scenario.”
I looked down at the will, Ryan’s familiar signature at the bottom sending a fresh wave of grief through me.
Legal documents on a table | Source: Midjourney
“He left everything to you, Catherine,” Robert said gently. “The house, his savings, his investments. Everything.”
I looked up, not daring to hope. “Everything?”
Robert nodded. “Well, almost. He did leave his mother $200,000… but with a condition.” He tapped a paragraph on the second page. “If she ever tried to evict you, take the house, or interfere with your rights to his inheritance, she would forfeit that money.”
“And where would it go?” I asked.
Robert’s smile was grim. “To you and the children.”
An emotionally overwhelmed woman | Source: Midjourney
For the first time in days, I felt something besides grief. It was small, but it was there… a flicker of justice and hope.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“Now,” Robert said, reaching for his phone, “we take your house back.”
The emergency court hearing was set for the next day. I spent another night in the car with the kids, but this time, I slept better.
Close-up shot of a judge holding a wooden gavel | Source: Pexels
“I need to tell you something important,” I told Emma and Liam over fast-food breakfast the next morning. “We’re going to get our house back today.”
“Really?” Emma’s eyes lit up. “With my room and everything?”
“Everything,” I promised.
“Is Grandma Margaret going to be in trouble?” Liam asked.
I hesitated, then decided on honesty. “Yes, she is. What she did was wrong, and there are consequences for that.”
Liam nodded seriously. “Dad always said we have to take responsibility for our actions.”
My heart squeezed. “He did say that, didn’t he?”
Nostalgic shot of a father holding his child’s hand | Source: Pexels
The judge was a stern woman with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She listened to both sides — Margaret sputtering indignantly about family rights, and me quietly explaining how we’d been left homeless.
“Ms. Margaret,” the judge finally said, “you had no legal right to change the locks or remove the rightful owners from their property. I’m issuing an immediate order for you to vacate the premises and return all keys to Ms. Catherine by end of day.”
Margaret’s face contorted. “But it’s my son’s house!”
“Which he legally left to his wife,” the judge clarified. “This court doesn’t recognize ‘but I’m his mother’ as a valid legal argument, Ms. Margaret.”
A stunned older woman in the courtroom | Source: Midjourney
As we left the courtroom, Margaret hurried past me, refusing to meet my eyes.
“This isn’t over,” she hissed.
Robert placed a hand on my shoulder. “Actually, it is. And there’s one more thing she doesn’t know yet.”
By sunset, I had new keys to my house. Robert had sent a locksmith ahead, making sure Margaret couldn’t pull another trick.
When we pulled into the driveway, the kids tumbled out of the car in excitement, only to stop short at the sight before them. Margaret’s belongings were piled on the curb in the same black trash bags she’d used for our things.
A person’s belongings discarded in trash bags outside a house | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” Liam whispered, “did you do that?”
I smiled and before I could answer, another car screeched to a halt behind us. Margaret stormed out, her face purple with rage.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, gesturing wildly at her belongings.
I stepped between her and the children. “You broke into my home and illegally evicted me and my kids. Now, it’s your turn to leave.”
“You can’t do this!” she shrieked.
I held up my new keys. “Oh, but I can. This house belongs to me and my children now. Ryan made sure of that.”
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A woman holding a key | Source: Pexels
She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling the police.”
I smiled. “Go ahead.”
When the police arrived, they listened to both sides. Then, to Margaret’s obvious shock, they turned to her.
“Ma’am, changing locks without an eviction notice is illegal,” one officer explained. “Breaking and entering, too. And unlawful eviction.”
“But it’s my son’s house!” Margaret insisted.
“Not according to the will,” the officer replied. “We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.”
A cop | Source: Pexels
As they led Margaret to the police car, she turned to glare at me. “You turned my son against me. You and those children who aren’t even his!”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “No, Margaret. You did that all on your own. And now you’ve lost everything… including the $200,000 Ryan left you.”
Her face went slack. “What?”
“It’s in the will,” I explained. “The money was yours unless you tried to take the house from us. Guess where it goes now?”
The realization dawned on her face just as the officer closed the car door.
A shaken older woman | Source: Midjourney
That night, we slept in our own beds for the first time since the funeral. I tucked Emma in, making sure Mr. Whiskers was in his proper position on the left side of the bed.
“Mom?” she asked sleepily. “Is Grandma Margaret going to jail?”
I smoothed her hair back. “I don’t know, sweetie. But she can’t hurt us anymore.”
Liam was already under the covers, but his eyes were wide open.
“You were really brave today, Mom,” he said as I sat on the edge of his bed.
I smiled. “I learned it from you guys.”
A relieved woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
After the kids were asleep, I wandered into Ryan’s office. His presence was everywhere: in the leather chair worn to the shape of his body, in the coffee mug still sitting on the desk, and in the family photo placed where he could see it while he worked.
I picked up the photo, tracing his face with my finger.
“You knew,” I whispered. “You knew she might try something like this.”
In the silence, I could almost hear his reply: “Of course I did. That’s why I made sure you and the kids would be taken care of.”
An emotional woman holding a framed photo | Source: Midjourney
Later, Robert told me that Margaret had lost everything fighting the charges. The $200,000 that now belonged to my children and me was just the beginning. Legal fees, a brief stint in jail for breaking and entering, and the social shame in her country club circles completed her downfall.
I took no joy in her destruction. But I did take comfort in the knowledge that Ryan’s last act had been to protect us… from her, from uncertainty, and from the cruelty of fate.
The universe has a way of balancing things out. Ryan knew that. In the end, so did Margaret.
A defeated older woman | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: Respect isn’t requested… it’s taken. When my husband and MIL expected me to take unpaid leave for her home renovation, they assumed I’d comply. Instead, I gave them a lesson they’d never forget.
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 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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