Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother spots a young girl in a tattered dress, silent and familiar. As she pulls closer, she notices that the girl’s haunted eyes hold secrets that might be better left hidden.
It was late, and the night felt thicker than usual. The fog wrapped around the car like a heavy blanket, swallowing up everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, gripping the wheel tighter than usual.
Driving through the fog | Source: Pexels
“Just get home,” I muttered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been such a long day at work, and all I wanted was my bed.
I hated this road. I’d always hated it. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I had thought: Just a quick shortcut. It’ll save me time.
A woman driving through the fog | Source: Midjourney
Then, something caught my eye. A shadow, right in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding, and stared. The figure was barely visible, just an outline in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox or something,” I whispered, even though I knew it wasn’t. As I rolled forward slowly, the shadow appeared to be a girl. She was thin, and her white dress seemed to cling to her in tatters.
A girl on a figgy road | Source: Midjourney
I felt an instinctual chill crawl up my spine. Everything in me screamed to turn around, to get out of there. But something stronger kept me rooted in place.
I rolled down the window a crack, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, I opened the door and stepped out, flashlight in hand. I aimed it at her face, and the beam caught her features for the first time. I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes, the mouth parted slightly in confusion.
A woman stepping out from her car | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” My voice was barely a whisper, but she seemed to hear me. She looked up, her eyes locking onto mine, empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was soft, barely there.
Shock and relief crashed over me. It was her. My Emily, my daughter who’d been gone for five years. She’d vanished without a trace, no sign of where she’d gone or who might have taken her. The police and search parties had all come up with nothing.
A search party going through the woods | Source: Pexels
“Emily, oh my God… it’s really you,” I stammered, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? Are you hurt?”
She blinked, her face blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice sounded small. It was like it hadn’t been used in years.
I swallowed, my mind racing. Trauma, maybe. I had been warned that if we ever found her, she might not remember because kids could block out things that were too painful.
A shy girl looking down | Source: Midjourney
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. It’s Mom. We’re gonna go home, okay?” My hand trembled as I reached out.
I wrapped my coat around her shoulders, feeling her icy skin through the fabric. “Let’s get you out of here,” I said, guiding her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her expression distant.
A woman hugging her daughter | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet, her gaze never leaving the foggy darkness outside. I glanced over, trying to read her face, but there was nothing, just a blank stare, as though she was somewhere else entirely.
“Emily,” I tried gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was… dark. And… there was someone. I think. I think he brought food, but… I don’t remember his face.”
A sad girl in the backseat of the car | Source: Midjourney
My throat tightened. “It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now. We’re going home.”
She didn’t respond; she stared into the fog as we left the dark road behind.
As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a pang of relief. The familiar porch light, the sight of home, everything safe. But as I opened the door and led her inside, a new unease settled over me.
A house at night | Source: Pexels
Emily sat stiffly on the couch, looking around like she didn’t recognize anything. Her movements were slow, almost robotic.
“Do you… remember this place?” I asked.
She shrugged, her eyes blank. “I think so.”
Her voice was so flat, so empty. I sat beside her, reaching out, but stopped, unsure if she wanted comfort or space.
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice barely there, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her and sat there watching her, unsure of what to do or say.
The days that followed were a blur of quiet tension. Emily barely spoke, answering my questions in monosyllables, her gaze always elsewhere. I only heard her voice when she sang an old lullaby that I used to sing to her as a baby. I knew she couldn’t have remembered that, but I didn’t want to pry either.
A girl covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
One evening, I found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by old photo albums I’d stored in a closet. She had one open on her lap, her fingers tracing a picture of Mark, her father. He’d passed away when she was just a baby, so young she couldn’t possibly remember him.
“Mom?” she whispered, her brow furrowed. “I know him.”
I felt a strange chill. “Honey, that’s your dad. Remember? I told you about him.”
A sad girl hugging herself | Source: Pexels
“No,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I know him. From… the place.” Her eyes filled with confusion, and she stared at the picture as if trying to make sense of a dream.
My throat went dry. “What place, Emily?”
Her hands trembled, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t remember… but he was there.”
A concerned woman talking to her scared child | Source: Midjourney
My mind raced. Emily couldn’t have known Mark. She was just a baby when he died. But someone who looked like him… my thoughts shifted sharply. Mark’s brother, Jake.
He looked so much like Mark that they could’ve been twins. He’d even stayed with us a few times after Mark’s death. He’d been there when I sang Emily her lullabies. A memory rushed back of Jake standing in the doorway, listening to me sing her to sleep.
Bothers posing for a photo | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t ignore the thought any longer. I had to know the truth.
The next morning, I drove out to the old family cabin, an isolated place nestled deep in the woods on the edge of town. I hadn’t been there since Mark died.
After his passing, the cabin became a hollow shell of memories I couldn’t bear to face. And no one ever had a reason to visit it. The police hadn’t even searched there when Emily disappeared; they’d assumed it was abandoned, unimportant.
A shack in the woods | Source: Pexels
I parked the car and stepped out, the silence of the forest pressing in around me. The cabin looked just as I remembered, except more rundown. But something was off.
As I moved closer, I saw one of the windows was covered with a piece of heavy cloth. I felt a surge of unease. Why would someone cover the window?
A window covered with a peace of cloth | Source: Pexels
The door creaked as I pushed it open, and stale air hit me in a wave. Dust lay thick over everything except for a narrow trail leading toward a door in the back. My pulse quickened. I followed the trail, my shoes stirring up the dust in the silent cabin.
When I opened the back door, my stomach clenched. It was a small, dim room. And unlike the rest of the cabin, this room was eerily clean. On the floor lay a few scattered toys, faded but well-loved, as though they’d been played with often. A shiver ran through me.
A dim room with a small window | Source: Pexels
This was where she’d been.
I backed out of the room, heart pounding, and reached for my phone. Within minutes, the police were on their way.
Hours later, I sat with Emily in the living room as the officers worked at the cabin. She was quiet, her fingers clutching the edge of her blanket. When I took her hand, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that broke my heart.
The police searching a cabin in the woods | Source: Midjourney
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I remember the man.”
I swallowed hard. “Who was it, sweetheart?”
Her voice shook. “It was Uncle Jake. He… he looked like Daddy, but different. He… he would bring me food, but he never spoke. He just sat there, outside the door. He… he used to hum that song.”
A sad girl | Source: Pexels
The police confirmed it that evening. They had enough evidence in the cabin to make an arrest. When they found Jake, he confessed, claiming he had taken Emily to “protect” her, that he’d wanted to be the one she depended on.
It was twisted and sick, and knowing he’d been that close to us all those years made my skin crawl.
A sad man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
When they told Emily, she broke down, sobbing, the weight of years of silence finally releasing. I held her close, rocking her as she cried, whispering over and over, “You’re safe now. No one will ever take you away again.”
The days that followed were quiet, but a warmth was beginning to bloom again between us. Emily started to talk more, little by little, and she would hum that old lullaby at night, almost as if testing if it was safe to hear it again.
A woman drawing with her daughter | Source: Pexels
One evening, as we sat by the window, she leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder. I began to hum the lullaby softly, how I used to when she was little. She looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw a spark of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
I held her close, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
A girl kissing her mother | Source: Freepik
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.
Man Finds Out about His Bride’s Betrayal – He Goes to the Altar with a Remote Control in His Hands
Man Finds Out about His Bride’s Betrayal – He Goes to the Altar with a Remote Control in His Hands
Daphne is in the middle of her brother’s wedding. As a bridesmaid, she has an obligation to Denise. But when Liam surprises them all with a video revealing Denise’s ultimate secrets, Daphne has no choice but to choose her brother—even if what he did was humiliating for Denise.
As my brother’s wedding approached, excitement buzzed through the air, filling everyone with anticipation. My brother, the groom, was a notorious prankster, and his hints at a major surprise had us all on edge.
I thought he was just creating the drama for effect—Liam was that person.
A smiling man looking at the camera | Source: Pexels
Liam and his fiancée, Denise, had been dating for so long that it didn’t come as a surprise when she asked me to be one of her bridesmaids.
“Please, Daphne,” she asked, gifting me a box full of goodies. “I need you to be there with me on our big day—you’re not just Liam’s little sister, but mine, too.”
Two gift wrapped boxes | Source: Unsplash
Of course, I accepted. Denise did feel like a sister to me—in fact, she was the one who planned my 21st birthday party instead of the friends that I thought would do it.
So, when it came to wedding planning, I think Denise spent more time talking about their wedding to me than Liam.
Gold 21st foil balloons | Source: Unsplash
“I’m just wasting my time with Liam,” she said. “You can make notes for us. And we can do the wedding cake tasting.”
Liam, on the other hand, seemed like he was doing the bare minimum with the wedding—but the reality is that he was busy putting together a beautiful video for the wedding.
A wedding planner and notebooks | Source: Pexels
“I’m going to have it played just before we do our vows,” he said when I went to visit him.
He showed me a folder on his laptop where he was saving all his and Denise’s videos and photos, ready to create the video.
A man using a laptop | Source: Unsplash
“Do you think Liam has cold feet?” Denise asked me when we went wedding shopping.
“No,” I replied honestly. “He’s planning something for you, that’s taking all his time at the moment.”
“What?” she asked enthusiastically.
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” I said. “Now, go and try on dresses!”
A row of wedding dresses | Source: Unsplash
On the morning of the wedding, I got to the hotel suite early. I wanted to see Liam before getting ready with Denise and the other bridesmaids.
“You have no idea what’s coming,” he teased, sipping on a glass of champagne as he got ready.
“Oh boy,” I said. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned.”
Two glasses of champagne | Source: Unsplash
The ceremony was perfect—and everything had gone exactly to plan as Denise wanted.
From the flowers to the music to the scented candles that perfumed the venue. It was all perfect.
When the time came for the vows, my brother told the priest to wait.
A couple kneeling before a priest | Source: Unsplash
“I have something to show you all,” he said. “This is Denise and my love story from the beginning to right now.”
He pulled a remote from his pocket with a flourish, while two of his groomsmen wheeled a TV screen to the middle of the altar, just in front of where Liam and Denise were standing.
“Watch this,” he said, stepping back to join his groomsmen. And then he pressed play.
A person holding a remote control | Source: Unsplash
The screen came alive with their love story—their first kiss, snippets from trips together, cozy nights in, dinners cooked together, and so on.
The montage tugged at heartstrings, and all the guests were enthralled.
A close-up of a couple | Source: Unsplash
But the real shock was still to come.
As the video ended, the priest went back to his position, ready to continue the ceremony from where he left off. He called for Denise and Liam to resume their positions, too.
He solemnly asked if anyone objected.
A couple at the altar | Source: Pexels
Before anyone knew what was happening, Liam dropped Denise’s hand and stepped away, back down the aisle.
“I do,” he declared.
“What?” Denise hissed. “Liam, this isn’t the time for one of your pranks.”
“This isn’t a prank,” he said.
Bride and groom at the altar | Source: Pexels
He held up the remote control again and pressed another button—the air was thick with tension as music began to fill the room.
This new video was a stark contrast—it showed his bride in their shared home, but Denise wasn’t alone.
Instead, she was wearing lingerie and depicted in a compromising situation with another man.
An intimate photo of a couple | Source: Pexels
The room fell deathly quiet, every eye glued to the screen, then slowly turning to gauge her reaction at my brother’s reveal.
Denise turned around slowly to face her guests, her face ghostly pale, her eyes wide with horror.
“This can’t be happening,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Then, the same man from the video swore loudly—he was seated at the back of the venue, dressed in a suit.
A man in a suit | Source: Pexels
“This is why I won’t be marrying Denise today,” Liam said, his loud voice breaking the silence, his tone even but heavy with emotion.
“I couldn’t let us all be here, witnessing what was supposed to be love, without the truth being known.”
The ceremony was ground to a halt, and the festive atmosphere evaporated into a thick, awkward tension.
Denise staggered slightly, looking around as if seeking an escape or an ally. She kicked off her shoes and picked them up.
A bride holding her shoes | Source: Pexels
“It’s not what it looks like,” she said. “Liam, please, not here. Let’s talk about it outside.”
I wanted to be able to look at Denise and feel sorry for her—we had been so close for so many years. But the evidence had been in the video. As close as we were, she was just another cheater.
A woman who had hurt my brother.
She pleaded with Liam again, louder this time. Tears fell down her face.
But the damage was done. My brother’s gaze never wavered from the woman he was supposed to marry.
A crying bride | Source: Pexels
“How long?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
“Not long,” she managed to say, her composure breaking. “I’m so sorry, you were never supposed to know about it.”
“In our own home, though? Seriously, Denise?” my brother retorted sharply, his hurt palpable to all watching.
“You brought him into our home,” he said.
The crowd murmured, some guests shaking their heads, others unable to look away from the unfolding drama.
A couple lying in bed | Source: Pexels
The priest stepped back. I wondered if he was thinking about taking Liam and Denise in for couples’ counseling—something that they had refused when they booked the priest in the first place.
Liam walked out first, abandoning his wedding and all the guests he and Denise had chosen.
Denise ran out behind him, calling out to Liam, but he refused to acknowledge her presence. Her mother ran out behind her.
A bride running | Source: Unsplash
Later, I walked around the hotel to find my brother. I found him sitting at the bar, drinking his feelings away while eating a bowl of olives.
“Did you know?” he asked me.
“No, of course not,” I said quickly.
It turned out that when Liam was going through the videos and photos on his laptop, he ended up looking through Denise’s, too.
A hotel bar | Source: Pexels
“I just wanted to see if there was anything else that I could add to the video,” he said sadly.
I ordered myself a drink and got comfortable next to my brother—from the looks of it, we were going to be there for a long time.
“I went through the first folder,” he admitted. “And it was incredible because she had all these photos that I hadn’t seen before. But in the next folder, there was the video of Denise with that man. It wasn’t even a locked folder, Daphne,” he said.
A cocktail on a tray | Source: Unsplash
We were both silent for a while, and Liam gulped away his drink.
“Do you think I was wrong to expose her?” he asked.
“No,” I said honestly. “But maybe you should have spoken to her privately. There’s no knowing how this could wreck her. Or what she’ll do next.”
I sat back in my seat and helped myself to the bowl of pretzels that the bartender had left out for us.
“I have no intention of checking on her,” Liam said. “I don’t care.”
A bowl of pretzel sticks and nuts | Source: Unsplash
I didn’t have any intention of getting Liam to forgive Denise. There was no point in trying to get him to forgive her after what she had done—Liam had always been sure of one thing. Cheating was the absolute deal breaker in a relationship.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s go eat some wedding cake. That can’t go to waste, too.”
I followed my brother out to the dining room that had been set up for the wedding reception.
I knew that as much as I wanted to check on Denise—Liam needed me in his corner.
A white wedding cake with fruit | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
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