The former owner of my car called, desperately asking to recover something he had left under the seat — when I found it, I turned pale

When Samira buys a secondhand car at a dealership, she thinks it a victory because it was something she had done all by herself. But the next morning, the mysterious previous owner of the car calls her, claiming that he left something “alive” under the seat of the car. Will Samira meet him or uncover the secret package by herself?

When I first bought my car, it was supposed to be a small victory. I had left my corporate job to take time off to write my collection of short stories. So, I didn’t want to splurge my savings until something big came my way financially.

It was nothing fancy, just a used Toyota Corolla from the local dealership. The thrill of owning it was enough to make me overlook any thoughts about its previous owner. Whoever they were, they were in my past, and I was cruising straight into my future.

Or so I thought.

But then came that random phone call which changed everything.

It was early, around 7 a.m., and I was in the middle of making my morning coffee when my phone buzzed with an unknown number.

Normally, I’d ignore it, but something about early morning and late-night unknown calls made me answer. I didn’t know if someone needed me.

“Hello?” I said, yawning.

“Hi, is this the new owner of the Toyota Corolla?” a man asked, anxiety in his voice.

“Yes, this is her. Who’s speaking?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.

He took a deep breath.

“Oh, thank goodness! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I was the previous owner of the car, and I left something under the seat of the car when I gave it in yesterday morning. You picked it up yesterday, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied, confused about what he was getting at.

“Okay. Good,” he paused. “I need to get my hands on what I left behind. It’s really important. It’s urgent, really.”

What on earth could be so important that he would track me down like this? Was the dealership even allowed to give out personal information?

“What did you leave?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“It’s something… alive,” he stammered. “Please, ma’am, I need to come and get it as soon as possible. I promise you, I’ll explain when I see you.”

I remained silent for a moment.

Alive? The word echoed loudly in my mind. Was this man serious? What alive thing could possibly be in the car? My mind raced between a baby to a dog to even a package of narcotics that he was brushing off as something alive.

But I knew that I would have noticed something like that.

“Do you want to meet me somewhere or give me your address?” he continued.

I should have probably said no to all of the above. But there was something about him and the panic in his voice that made me hesitate to say no.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice more firm than I felt. “Come over to my neighborhood. There’s a park not too far away from where I live. I’ll meet you there. I’ll send the address to this number.”

“That’s perfect,” he said, sighing in relief. “Don’t worry, it’s contained for now.”

I hung up and stared at my phone.

“What are you doing, Samira?” I asked myself. “Are you really going to meet a random person?”

But, what would be alive under my seat? My thoughts darted to worse-case scenarios again. What if it was a dangerous animal?

I had no idea what to expect, and that’s what made me nervous.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing next to the Corolla in the cool morning air, waiting for the mysterious stranger to show up.

The neighborhood was still quiet, and I imagined everyone in their homes slowly waking up or making breakfast for their families.

Finally, a man pulled up in an old pickup truck, just as he had texted me to say he would. His eyes scanned the area nervously before landing on me.

“I’m Ben,” he said. “Thank you for letting me come.”

He was younger than I imagined, and probably in his late twenties like myself, with dark hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

There was something endearing about his disheveled appearance, though I could tell he was genuinely worried.

Stop it, Samira, I told myself. This isn’t one of your romantic comedy stories. This isn’t a meet-cute.

“No problem,” I replied. “I’m Samira. So, what exactly did you leave under the seat?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he opened the driver’s door and dropped to his knees beside the car and reached under the seat. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Ben pulled out a small, sealed box with tiny air holes punched into the top. My stomach did a flip as I imagined a tarantula inside the box.

“I’m really sorry to bother you like this,” he said, standing up and holding the box.

“What’s in there?” I asked, almost amused.

“I have a pet gecko at home, and I feed it live insects every day. Yesterday, I stopped at the pet store to pick up some food, including mealworms and roaches, but I must have left the box under the seat when I was unloading the car.”

It took a moment for his words to register with me.

“You left a box of live insects under the seat?” I asked.

“Not by choice,” he replied sheepishly. “I was late to hand over the car as well. So the moment I unloaded everything else at home, I rushed over to the dealership to leave the car… for you.”

“You’re lucky that they didn’t escape,” I said.

Suddenly, a laugh bubbled up inside me before I could stop it, and once it started, it was hard to stop.

He looked at me, confused for a second, before a grin spread across his face.

“I know, it’s ridiculous, right?” he said. “I was so freaked out that I couldn’t even sleep. I kept imagining them crawling around your car, and I just…”

“My goodness,” I exclaimed. “That would have been quite the surprise.”

The thought of driving around with a box full of escaped bugs lurking somewhere under the seat was both horrifying and hilarious.

“I’m really sorry, Samira,” he said, his grin fading into something more genuine. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t know what else to do. The gecko, Samson, is actually my little brother’s pet. And as wacky as it is, that kid loves it.”

“No judgment here,” I replied. “I had a pet frog for a solid two weeks as a kid until my mother found it bouncing around my room.”

That was enough to set us both off again. We laughed until tears ran down our faces.

“Let me make it up to you,” he blurted out suddenly. “How about I take you out for a coffee? As an apology for the… bug thing?”

I stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden offer. I hadn’t expected any of this. But at the same time, I felt like I was in one of the romance stories that I wrote.

There was just something about the way he asked, something genuine and a little bit hopeful.

“I… um,” I started to say. “Sure, why not?”

“Great!” he said, his face lighting up. “I know a place not too far away from here. Would you like to go now?”

I laughed at his enthusiasm.

“How about you take me to a car wash to wash away any bugs and my paranoia, and then we can grab a coffee?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious.

“Actually, that’s the least I can do,” he said. “Come on.”

Ben put the box of insects in his truck and locked the door. I threw my keys at him, which he caught perfectly.

As we drove to the car wash, Ben told me all about his little brother, who was living with him.

“There’s a big age gap between us,” he said. “But there’s a really good school two roads away from me. So he’s enrolled there.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, watching his hands on the steering wheel. “I wish I had a younger sibling to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

When we got to the car wash, Ben ensured that we would take the full package.

“Give her a good wash, guys,” he said.

We went for coffee while the car was being attended to.

And I wondered what was going to happen next…

What would you have done?

5-Year-Old Granddaughter Accidentally Revealed a Huge Secret My Son Has Been Keeping for Years

Marilyn never expected a routine daycare pickup to unravel a web of secrets surrounding her “deceased” daughter-in-law. Her discovery sets off a journey of deception, protection, and ultimate family reconciliation.

Walking into Little Stars Daycare always brought a smile to my face. Today was no different. The sound of children laughing and playing was music to my ears. I was there to pick up my granddaughter, Lucy, who was the light of my life.

As soon as Lucy saw me, her face lit up like the sun. “Grandma!” she squealed, running towards me with her arms wide open. I scooped her up in a big hug, feeling her small arms tighten around my neck.

Lucy | Source: Midjourney

Lucy | Source: Midjourney

“Hello, my little star,” I greeted her warmly. “Did you have fun today?”

“Yes!” Lucy bubbled with excitement. She dug into her backpack and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “I made this for you!” It was a painting, a vibrant swirl of greens and blues. Despite the mess of colors, it was a masterpiece to me.

“That’s wonderful!” I exclaimed, admiring her artwork. “Shall we go get some ice cream?”

Lucy nodded eagerly. As we walked to the car, she continued to chatter about her day. But then she said something that stopped me in my tracks.

Marilyn walks Lucy to the car | Source: Midjourney

Marilyn walks Lucy to the car | Source: Midjourney

“Look, Granny, I didn’t even get paint on my new dress! Daddy bought it for me and Mommy. We have matching ones!”

I froze mid-step. My heart sank. “Lucy, sweetie, where is Mommy?” I managed to ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“Mommy lives in the blue house. We visit her sometimes on Saturdays when you go to your knitting club!” Lucy replied cheerfully, oblivious to the shock she had just sent through me.

Marilyn drives Lucy home | Source: Midjourney

Marilyn drives Lucy home | Source: Midjourney

As I buckled Lucy into her booster seat, my mind was spinning. The car ride began with Lucy chattering happily, blissfully unaware of the turmoil she had stirred within me. “And Mommy helped me pick the colors for the painting!” she continued, waving the crumpled artwork with pride.

I tried to focus on driving, but my thoughts were elsewhere. “That’s nice, sweetheart,” I murmured automatically. The road stretched ahead, but my heart was stuck at that last exchange. Mommy helped? How?

Lucy’s voice pulled me back. “Mommy says green is the best color because it’s the color of the trees and her favorite dress,” she said. I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, her face bright and animated as she spoke of her ‘mommy.’

Lucy speaks about her mom | Source: Midjourney

Lucy speaks about her mom | Source: Midjourney

The heaviness settled deeper in my chest. David, my son, had been devastated when Jenna, his wife and Lucy’s mother, had passed away. It was a dark time. He told me she had died from complications shortly after giving birth. It was supposed to be a time of joy, not of irreplaceable loss.

“We miss her, don’t we, Grandma?” Lucy’s innocent question broke through my reverie.

“Yes, darling, very much,” I replied, my voice thick with emotions. The memory of David’s tears and the way he had clung to baby Lucy, desperate and shattered, flashed before me. He had never moved on, never dated anyone else. Jenna’s death had left a void in our lives that we never expected to fill again.

Devastated David with Lucy in his arms | Source: Midjourney

Devastated David with Lucy in his arms | Source: Midjourney

But here was Lucy, speaking so casually about her mother as if she were still part of our everyday lives. My grip tightened on the steering wheel. Was Lucy creating a fantasy world to cope, or was there something else, something real, that I was not aware of? The discrepancy between what I knew and what Lucy was saying gnawed at me.

I needed answers, but I was scared of what those answers might reveal. The weight of the unknown pressed heavily on me as I drove, each turn taking us closer to a truth I wasn’t sure I wanted to face.

Marilyn follows the car | Source: Midjourney

Marilyn follows the car | Source: Midjourney

Saturday morning arrived with a leaden sky, mirroring the heaviness in my heart. I had made up my mind. After sending Lucy and David off with cheerful waves, I slipped into my car and followed them at a distance. My hands trembled slightly on the wheel as I navigated through familiar streets, now tinted with the hue of secrecy.

Turning down the lane to the blue house, my breath caught. I parked a block away, my heart hammering in my chest. This was it. The moment of truth. I walked towards the house, my steps hesitant yet driven by a desperate need to understand.

The house where Lucy's mom lived | Source: Midjourney

The house where Lucy’s mom lived | Source: Midjourney

Peering through the window, I saw them—Lucy and a woman, laughing together as they set up a game on the living room floor. The woman turned, and my world tilted. It was Jenna. Alive. The very sight of her—so vibrant, so real—sent a shockwave through me. Relief flooded in, sharp and fierce, followed quickly by a surge of betrayal. How could they?

Tears blurred my vision as I watched them, a family scene so normal yet so impossible. Jenna looked up suddenly, spotting me at the window. Our eyes met, and the joy on her face faltered.

Jenna is playing with Lucy | Source: Midjourney

Jenna is playing with Lucy | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t wait for them to invite me in. Pushing open the door, I entered, my voice thick with emotion. “David, Jenna, what is going on?”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. David stood, his expression a mix of shock and fear. “Mom, what are you doing here?” His voice trembled, not with surprise, but with dread.

“I think it’s time you both told me what’s really going on,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside me.

David explains everything to Marilyn | Source: Midjourney

David explains everything to Marilyn | Source: Midjourney

David sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Mom, I know this is going to sound unbelievable, but Jenna and I made a difficult decision years ago, one that we thought was best at the time.” He glanced at Jenna, who nodded, her eyes filled with tears.

“After Lucy was born, Jenna, as an environmental lawyer, got involved in a case against a powerful corporation. It turned ugly, with threats made not just against her but against Lucy too. We couldn’t risk it,” David explained, his voice fraught with remembered fear.

David remembers acting like Jenna was dead | Source: Midjourney

David remembers acting like Jenna was dead | Source: Midjourney

“We decided the safest thing was for me to go into hiding, and to let the world think I was dead,” Jenna added, her voice breaking. “It was the only way to protect Lucy and continue my work without endangering anyone.”

My emotions churned—anger, hurt, relief, understanding. They had lived a lie to protect their family. I was left out, yes, but the reason now made a painful kind of sense.

“I wish you had trusted me enough to tell me,” I whispered, the weight of years of unnecessary mourning heavy on my shoulders.

Marilyn hugs David | Source: Midjourney

Marilyn hugs David | Source: Midjourney

“We wanted to, Mom. We really did. But the fewer people who knew, the safer Jenna was,” David replied, reaching for my hand. “We were going to tell you, eventually.”

As I absorbed their words, the initial shock gave way to a complex tapestry of forgiveness and sorrow. They had made an impossible choice under unimaginable pressure. Now, we needed to find a way to move forward, together.

As we sat together in Jenna’s living room, the shock slowly began to settle into a quiet resolve. David laid out the plan for Jenna’s return to our lives.

David and Jenna drink tea | Source: Midjourney

David and Jenna drink tea | Source: Midjourney

“Now that the threats have subsided and the case is closed, Jenna will slowly reintegrate into the public eye,” he explained, his voice filled with cautious optimism.

“We’ll start with small gatherings,” Jenna added, looking towards me with hopeful eyes. “Maybe a family dinner here and there, and then gradually attending larger family events.”

I nodded, understanding the delicacy of their situation. It was a chance to mend the fabric of our family, torn by years of secrets. “I’ll help in any way I can,” I assured them, feeling a new role dawning on me. My support would be crucial in bridging Jenna’s transition from her hidden life back into the full glare of our family and community.

Marilyn explains the details to the relatives | Source: Midjourney

Marilyn explains the details to the relatives | Source: Midjourney

Over the following weeks, I took it upon myself to prepare our relatives for Jenna’s return. I explained the necessity of her disappearance and the safety it had ensured for Lucy. While the news startled everyone, the prevailing sentiment was one of relief and gratitude that Jenna was safe and could be part of our lives again.

One sunny afternoon, I watched as Lucy played in the garden, Jenna by her side. It was a simple moment, yet profound in its normalcy. I joined them, taking Jenna’s hand in mine. “Welcome back,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

Jenna plays with Lucy | Source: Midjourney

Jenna plays with Lucy | Source: Midjourney

Jenna squeezed my hand, her eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you, Marilyn, for understanding, for supporting us.”

As we watched Lucy chase butterflies, I felt the promise of new beginnings. The secrets that once loomed large were now out in the open, allowing us to heal and grow stronger together. The path ahead would require adjustment and patience, but with love and openness, I was confident we could face whatever came our way.

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

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

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