When Liam throws a surprise birthday party for his wife, Lora, he gets the biggest shock when she brings over an uninvited guest—a man who’s been absent from Lora’s life for years. Why was he there and what did he want?
My wife loves surprises. Every year for her birthday or Valentine’s Day, I try to surprise her because I know how much it means to her. Her eyes light up like a child’s, making every special occasion an opportunity for something extraordinary.
A blindfolded young woman | Source: Midjourney
“I love how well you know me, Liam,” she would say. “You always get it right!”
“You’re worth it all, Lora,” I said.
So, this year, for her birthday, I planned a surprise that I hoped would be unforgettable. Pretending to be away on a business trip, I called her the day before her birthday to say that I’d be home late.
A man on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“You’re not coming back tomorrow?” Lora’s voice carried disappointment that broke my heart.
“I’m so sorry, love,” I said, laying on the regret. “Work got hectic, but I’ll make it up to you. How about a spa weekend when I’m back?”
There was a pause then Lora let out a resigned sigh.
A smiling couple at a spa | Source: Midjourney
“Fine, but you owe me big time, Liam,” she said in a huff.
“Oh, darling, you’re going to love it,” I assured her, smiling at the thought of her reaction to the real surprise.
As soon as I hung up, I swung into action, calling our close friends and relatives to invite them to a surprise party at our apartment.
A man holding a tablet | Source: Midjourney
I’d been planning it for a while, but I just needed to remind everyone.
“Yes, of course, Liam!”
“We’ll be there!”
“I’ll bring wine!”
An excited person on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Everyone was in on it, and the place buzzed with excitement as we decorated, set up food, and waited for Lora’s arrival.
“Do you think she’ll suspect anything?” asked Karen, her best friend, as she hung the streamers.
“No way,” I replied confidently. “She thinks I’m out of town until tomorrow.”
A woman hanging streamers | Source: Midjourney
Finally, we heard footsteps in the hallway and the sound of her laughter. I frowned, puzzled.
“Who could she be with?” I asked Karen. “If it’s not you or me, then it’s very strange…”
“Maybe her sisters?” Karen asked.
A frowning man holding balloons | Source: Midjourney
“No, they’re going to be here. They did say that they’d be a bit late because they’re going to pick up Lora’s present.”
The door opened, and as Lora stepped in, we all jumped out.
“Surprise!” we shouted.
People at a surprise party | Source: Midjourney
But the joy was short-lived.
Gasps filled the room as everyone stared at the man standing beside Lora. It was Michael.
Michael was Lora’s father who had recently been released from prison. The shock on everyone’s faces mirrored the shock and confusion I felt.
A group of shocked people | Source: Midjourney
Lora had never mentioned anything about her father being back in her life.
“Look, he’s in prison, Liam,” she told me when we spoke about her father one night over dinner. “That’s all I have to say about it.”
“But what did he do?” I asked. “Why did he go to prison? Was it that bad?”
A couple eating together | Source: Midjourney
But Lora just shook her head and refused to answer.
Years later, Lora began speaking about it and the turmoil that Michael had caused her family. Michael had been imprisoned for embezzlement, having stolen a significant amount of money from the company where he worked.
“That ruined us, Liam,” Lora said to me in tears.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
The scandal had not only disgraced him but also brought shame and financial hardship to their family.
Now, seeing her laugh and at ease in his presence confused me. And for a moment, I felt betrayed. At that moment, I almost wished she had brought home another man.
Anything but this.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“Lora, what’s going on?” I asked her, unable to hide the edge in my voice.
Lora, looking nervous and caught off guard by the crowd’s reaction, spoke first.
“Everyone, this is my dad, Michael. I know that most of you have heard about him, but here he is. Finally out of prison. He… he just wanted to apologize to me.”
A woman standing next to her father | Source: Midjourney
Michael, clearly uncomfortable to have an audience, took a deep breath and addressed the room.
“I know I’ve caused a lot of pain to Lora, to her mom, Nancy, and the rest of our family. But I’ve spent my years in prison working on myself. I know that when our financial issues began, I took it out on my family. I’ve been trying to overcome my trauma and stop being so aggressive. I’m truly sorry for everything.”
The room was silent. Michael’s words hung in the air. It was as if time had stopped, and everyone had held their breath to process the unexpected turn of events.
A close-up of a man talking | Source: Midjourney
“I understand if you don’t want to forgive me, but I wanted to make amends. I want to be a part of Lora’s life. Of all my children’s lives. I just started my apology tour with Lora because she’s the eldest. I’m here to show that I’ve changed.”
I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t know what my thoughts were. On one hand, I believed him. There was something about his words and body language that made him genuine.
But could he change?
A pensive young man | Source: Midjourney
As he turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of Lora’s face. She looked torn and on the verge of tears. But there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
Despite everything, she wanted to give him a chance.
“Michael, wait,” I called out, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. “Stay. If Lora wants you here, then you should be here.”
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
Michael looked at me, stunned, then turned to Lora, who had tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Thank you, darling,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
I nodded.
“If this is what makes you happy, then I’m willing to try and make this work,” I said.
Michael, visibly moved, nodded as well.
A close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you, Liam. I promise I won’t let you down,” he said.
As the evening wore on, the atmosphere gradually shifted from tense to awkward to cautiously hopeful. But once the platters of food came out, everyone seemed to be calmer.
“Lora, are you sure about this?” Karen asked when we were in the kitchen getting more bottles of wine.
Lora sighed, her gaze drifting to her father.
Platters of food | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, he’s my dad, and he’s trying to make things right. I want to give him a chance,” she said.
I stood back, watching as Lora and Michael hugged, both of them in tears.
“Come on,” I said. “It’s time for the birthday cake!”
We carried out the birthday cake for Lora, and nobody sang louder than Michael, who seemed genuinely proud and happy to be there.
A birthday cake with candles | Source: Midjourney
As the party wound down, Michael stood up to address everyone.
“I want to thank you all for giving me this opportunity. I know it will take time to earn your trust. But I promise you, I am committed to making amends and being a better person and father.”
There was a hesitant round of applause, more out of politeness than genuine acceptance, but it was a start.
Later, when everyone was gone, Lora and I stood on the balcony together, taking in the final moments of her birthday.
A couple standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so grateful that you welcomed my father, Liam,” she said. “I know what I said, but I think that it’s time to heal from the past. You know?”
“I know,” I agreed. “I think that Michael needs to meet the adult Lora. Not the version of you that he knew before he went to prison.”
She nodded as she held her glass of champagne.
A woman holding a glass of champagne | Source: Midjourney
“And anyway, I promised to help him find a new apartment soon. Will you help me? It will be something small and simple.”
“Of course, honey,” I said, embracing her.
A small apartment | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
Little Girl is Caught Stealing, but When the Cashier Learns Why, She Makes an Unthinkable Decision — Story of the Day
Claire never expected a simple theft to shake her to the core—until she caught a child sneaking out with a sandwich. But when she saw the tiny candle flicker on top, heard the whispered birthday song, her heart ached. This wasn’t just shoplifting. It was survival. And Claire had a choice to make.
I stood behind the counter at Willow’s Market, the small corner store where I had worked for the past four years.
The scent of fresh bread lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon from the bakery section.
It was a comforting smell, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold morning. The store had that effect—cozy, familiar, a little worn around the edges but full of heart.
I ran my fingers along the edge of a shelf, straightening the jars of homemade jam. Every item had its place, and I made sure of it.
Keeping the store neat wasn’t just part of the job; it was my way of showing I cared.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Beside the register, I had placed a small box filled with handwritten notes—each one carrying a simple kind wish for the customers.
Little things like, “Hope today brings you something good” or “You’re stronger than you think.”
Some people ignored them, some smiled politely, and a few—especially the older customers—tucked them into their pockets like tiny treasures.
It was something small, but it made people smile. And that mattered to me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Just as I finished organizing the checkout area, the front door swung open sharply, making the hanging bells jingle too hard.
The sudden noise sent a jolt through me.
Logan.
I sighed internally.
Logan was the son of the store’s owner, Richard, and he had zero interest in keeping the store alive.
He wanted something more profitable—a liquor store, maybe, or a vape shop.
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Something that would bring in fast cash, not the slow, steady kind of business his father had built over the years.
But Richard had refused, saying the community needed a place like Willow’s Market. And Logan? Well, he didn’t take no very well.
Logan sneered as he scanned the store, hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive coat.
It was too nice for a place like this—black wool, probably designer, the kind of thing that didn’t belong near dusty shelves and wooden counters.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“How’s it going, Claire?” His voice was casual, but there was something sharp beneath it, like a blade hidden under silk.
I straightened, forcing a polite tone. “We’re doing well. I opened early today to get everything ready.”
His sharp blue eyes flicked toward the counter. Right at my box of notes.
He reached for one, lifting it with two fingers as if it were something dirty.
“What the hell is this?” he scoffed, reading aloud. “Enjoy the little things? What kind of sentimental garbage is this?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, he tossed the note onto the floor and, with one careless sweep of his arm, knocked over the entire box.
The papers fluttered like wounded birds, scattering across the wooden floor.
My stomach tightened.
I knelt quickly, gathering them up with careful hands. “It’s just something nice for customers,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
“This is a business,” Logan snapped.
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“Not a therapy session. If you wanna play philosopher, do it somewhere else. This store already isn’t making much money.”
His words hit like a slap, but I refused to react.
“It’s your father’s store,” I reminded him, standing up, my fingers curling around the handful of notes I had managed to pick up.
His jaw ticked. “For now,” he muttered, voice lower this time. Then he leaned in, just enough for me to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And you work here for now,” he added, his voice dripping with warning. “One more mistake, Claire, and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
His words sat heavy in the air between us, thick with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about my notes.
Then, just like that, he turned and left. The bell above the door clanged behind him, the sound sharp and jarring.
I stood there, my heart pounding, watching the scattered notes on the floor.
I had spent time writing each one, hoping they might bring someone a moment of comfort. But in the end, they were just paper to him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, willing my hands to stop shaking.
Then, slowly, I knelt back down and started picking them up again.
Later that afternoon, I stood behind the register, absently smoothing my apron as I watched Mrs.
Thompson count out coins with careful fingers. She was one of our regulars, always buying the same things—fresh bread and a small packet of tea.
The store was quiet, the golden afternoon light slanting through the front windows. Outside, cars rolled by lazily, and a few people walked past, chatting about their day.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Thompson finally gathered the right amount and placed the small stack of coins on the counter with a satisfied nod.
“You know, dear,” she said, looking up at me with her warm, wrinkled smile, “this store is the best thing in the neighborhood. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”
Her words eased something tight in my chest. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been since Logan’s visit. His voice still echoed in my head, sharp and full of warning.
“One more mistake, Claire, and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
I forced a smile. “That means a lot, Mrs. Thompson. Really.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She patted my hand with the softness only age could bring. “Don’t let that boy get to you,” she said knowingly.
Before I could respond, movement near the sandwich shelf caught my eye. A small figure in an oversized hoodie hovered there, their head ducked low, fingers twitching at their sides.
Something about the way they moved—too hesitant, too jumpy—made my stomach tighten.
I glanced back at Mrs. Thompson. She was tucking her tea into her purse, humming to herself.
I turned back to the hooded figure.
“Excuse me!” I called, stepping out from behind the register. “Can I help you find something?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The kid’s head snapped up, and for a split second, wide brown eyes locked onto mine. Then—
They bolted.
In one swift movement, they spun toward the door, their sneakers skidding slightly on the worn floorboards.
A small shape vanished into their pocket as they pushed past the door, setting the hanging bells into a frantic jingle.
My stomach dropped.
I glanced at Mrs. Thompson. “Watch the register for a second?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She barely hesitated before waving me off. “Go, dear!” She clutched her purse like she was preparing to defend the store herself.
I ran outside, my heart hammering as I scanned the busy sidewalk. The kid was fast—too fast.
Weaving through the crowd, dodging between people, slipping around corners like they’d done this before.
I almost lost them. Almost.
Then, a voice called out.
“Ran that way, five minutes ago.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I turned. A homeless man sat on a newspaper, pointing lazily down a side street.
I nodded in thanks and hurried forward, following his direction.
And then—I saw her.
The kid had stopped behind an abandoned alley, far from the main street. The oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame, making her look even younger.
I slowed my steps, pressing myself against the brick wall at the alley’s entrance, watching.
She pulled something from her pocket.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
A wrapped sandwich.
From the other pocket, she retrieved a tiny candle and a lighter.
My breath caught.
She unwrapped the sandwich with careful hands, smoothing the paper flat like it was something precious. Then, she stuck the small candle into the soft bread and flicked the lighter on.
A tiny flame flickered to life.
And then, she sang.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Happy birthday to me… Happy birthday to me…”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through me like a knife.
She smiled—just a little—then took a deep breath and blew out the candle.
I stepped forward before I could think twice.
The girl froze.
Her big brown eyes filled with fear as she took a quick step back, her hands clenching at her sides.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, already inching away like a cornered animal.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I knelt down, making sure my voice was gentle. “You don’t have to run.”
Her lips trembled.
“You’re not mad?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “I just wish you didn’t have to steal a sandwich for your own birthday.”
For the first time, something in her cracked. The tough shell, the instinct to fight or flee—it slipped, just for a second.
I held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the store. We’ll get you something to eat. No stealing required.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She hesitated.
Then, to my surprise, she reached out and took my hand.
Back at the store, Logan was waiting for me.
The moment I stepped through the door, his voice hit me like a whip.
“Where the hell were you?” he barked. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, impatience rolling off him in waves.
I tightened my grip on Katie’s small, trembling hand. She shrank slightly behind me, her fingers curling around mine like a lifeline.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“A child took something,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I went after her.”
Logan’s expression darkened, his nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge.
“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly, stepping forward, his boots clicking against the wooden floor.
“You left the register. Chased down a thief. And instead of calling the police, you brought her back here?”
“She’s not a thief,” I shot back. “She’s a hungry kid.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t care if she’s a saint. She stole from the store.”
I saw it then—the way his hand hovered near his pocket, his fingers twitching. He was reaching for his phone.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My stomach clenched.
“I’m calling the cops,” he said, his voice dripping with finality. “They’ll take her to an orphanage. That’s where kids like this end up.”
Beside me, Katie flinched. I felt her grip tighten like she was bracing for something awful.
I stepped forward without thinking. “Logan, don’t. Please.”
He smirked, tilting his head. “Why not? You care about your job, don’t you?”
His words hung heavy in the air, daring me to argue.
I swallowed hard. My pulse pounded in my ears.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll quit if you don’t call the police,” I said.
For the first time, Logan hesitated.
He blinked. “What?”
“You want me gone, right?” My voice was even, but inside, my heart was racing. “If I walk away now, you get what you want. Just don’t call.”
Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—maybe shock, maybe amusement. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smug grin.
“Fine,” he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Pack your things.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I exhaled, glancing down at Katie. Her wide brown eyes looked up at me, searching for reassurance.
I squeezed her hand.
“Let’s go,” I said.
The next morning, I walked into Richard’s office with a heavy heart. Richard was always kind to me, an owner of the store I looked up to. The folded resignation letter in my hand felt like a brick. I had spent four years at Willow’s Market, and now, it was over.
Richard sat at his desk, the morning light casting long shadows across the wooden surface. He was reading over some invoices, his glasses perched low on his nose.
I cleared my throat and placed the envelope in front of him. “Richard, I—”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But before I could explain, he lifted a hand to stop me.
“Mrs. Thompson told me everything,” he said.
I froze.
My pulse quickened as I searched his face, expecting disappointment, maybe even anger. But instead, there was something softer—understanding.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Logan was supposed to take over this place one day… but after what he did?” He shook his head. “I don’t want someone like him running this store.”
I stared at him, my breath catching. “Then… who will?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Richard smiled.
“You.”
I almost dropped my coffee.
“Me?” My voice came out in a whisper.
“You’re not just a cashier, Claire,” he said gently. “You’re the heart of this store.”
Tears burned my eyes.
I had lost a job.
But somehow, I had gained a future.
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