A young woman is at the altar about to marry a man she doesn’t love when she sees her dead fiancé among the guests.
Sarah looked in the mirror and tucked her favorite gold chain out of sight. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but she felt like crying.
“Now, don’t you cry!” the makeup artist said quickly, putting powder under Sarah’s eyes. “You’ll ruin my work!”
Across the room, Sarah’s mother smiled weakly. “Tears of joy,” she said, but she knew they were tears of sadness.
What should have been Sarah’s dream wedding had turned into a nightmare. Sarah adjusted her wedding dress and felt the weight of her engagement ring against her chest. It was a delicate ring with a tiny diamond, very different from the large ring now on her left hand.
“This is your choice,” Sarah told herself softly. “Now that David is gone, it doesn’t really matter who you marry.” The man she was marrying was nice, but he was chosen by her father.
Frank Melville was the son of Sarah’s father’s business partner. Their marriage would strengthen a business deal that had made both men very rich.
Sarah’s true love, David O’Reilly, had died three years ago in a terrible car accident. David was her driver when Sarah was a young celebrity, always chased by paparazzi.
It should have been the happiest day of Sarah’s life, but all she could think about was David.
Sarah remembered how she sometimes caught David watching her in the car’s mirror. She would look away. Then one night, she drank too much at a club, or maybe someone slipped her something.
Feeling sick and helpless, she called David. He came right away and helped her out of the club when she couldn’t stand.
To her embarrassment, she vomited, and David held her hair back and rubbed her back, saying comforting words. He helped her clean up and took care of her.
From that moment on, Sarah started watching David. Eventually, she convinced him to go on a date with her. They fell in love, and one day David gave her a delicate ring with a tiny diamond.
Sarah had been living the wild life of a party girl until she met David.
She happily said yes, thinking her parents would also be happy about her marrying a driver who had no money.
“But Daddy,” Sarah cried, “you always said what mattered was that I was happy!”
“You can be just as happy with a rich man,” her father replied. “Forget O’Reilly; he’s a loser.” But Sarah loved David and fought for their love. She believed her parents would eventually accept him.
That happy day never came. Instead, Sarah got a phone call while she was with her family. She saw her father go pale.
“Sarah, be brave, my love,” he said gently. “It’s David; there was an accident, a terrible accident…”
Sarah screamed and her father held her tightly while her mother sat nearby, twisting her hands and biting her lips.
That was the last day of her old life, the life where she believed in lasting love and happy endings. Two months later, Sarah told her parents she was pregnant.
They wanted her to end the pregnancy, but she refused. “This is all I have of David, and I’m having this baby!”
They had to give in to her strong will, especially with her grandmother on her side. Gran had real power in the family. Sarah’s father reluctantly accepted the pregnancy, and they spread the rumor that the father was a billionaire.
Sarah’s little girl was born, and for once, the family didn’t make a big deal out of it. Little Rachel’s existence was a secret. Soon after Rachel was born, Sarah’s father began pushing her toward Frank Melville.
Sarah sighed and lowered her delicate lace veil. “I’m ready,” she said. She picked up her bouquet and allowed her mother and bridesmaids to lead her downstairs to the waiting limousine.
A man in a wheelchair arrived at the church first. He wore a dark suit and had a bunch of wildflowers in his lap. When the usher asked him who he was with, he said, “The bride.”
He hadn’t seen Sarah in almost two years, but he turned on the TV yesterday and saw her. “Socialite Sarah Farmin, who has been away from the city’s social scene, is about to get married!”
“Not if I can help it!” David cried, turning off the TV. He remembered waking up in a hospital two years ago with his legs useless.
His mother, who had breathing problems, had been crying at his bedside. Then Sarah’s father, the powerful Greg Farmin, walked in. “You’re crippled,” he said bluntly. “What kind of life is that for Sarah? You know she’ll marry you, but you’ll be half a man.”
“What do you want?” David asked.
“I want you to stay away from Sarah. Let her believe you are dead so she can live a happy life,” Farmin said. “In return, you and your mother will get the best care money can buy.”
So David agreed, and Farmin kept his promise. David slowly got better, but his mother eventually died.
“I can’t let her do this,” David thought. “I have to tell her I’m alive.” So, when Sarah walked down the aisle with her father, David waited for his moment.
When Sarah reached Frank and the best man, her father gently lifted her veil and kissed her forehead. Just as he was about to give her away, a voice interrupted.
“Sarah,” it said. “Please don’t do this.”
Sarah turned and saw David in his wheelchair, wildflowers in his lap.
“David?” she whispered, shocked. “Oh my God, David? I must be dreaming…” Was he a ghost or a hallucination?
“It’s me,” David said, wheeling toward her. “I’m alive, but I thought you’d be better off without me.”
“Without you?” Sarah gasped. “I’ve been DEAD without you! The only thing that kept me alive was our baby, our little Rachel.”
“Baby?” David asked, shocked. “You had a baby?” He turned to Greg Farmin. “You never told me about the baby!”
“Daddy!” Sarah cried. “You knew David was alive and didn’t tell me?”
“I wanted to protect you,” Greg said defensively. He turned to David. “You gave me your word and took my money.”
“You paid him to stay away?” Sarah yelled. “You broke my heart!” Turning to Frank, she said with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you. I’m going to marry the father of my child.”
Sarah walked back toward David and hugged him. “You marry that man, and you’ll end up with nothing,” Greg shouted. “You won’t get a cent!”
Sarah’s grandmother stood up, looking at her son coldly. “Shut up, Greg. It’s not your money to give away. It’s mine, and I think Sarah and David deserve it all!”
Sarah and David got married and lived with little Rachel in a small house they bought with their own money, even though Gran wanted to buy them a luxury apartment. They knew they didn’t need luxury now that they had each other.
Businessman Loses All Hope After His Diagnosis, but One Hospital Encounter Changes Everything — Story of the Day
When a workaholic businessman receives devastating news about his health, he meets a young boy in the hospital who changes his outlook on life. Their bond grows through unexpected friendship and small acts of kindness, teaching him what truly matters—until a heartbreaking twist reshapes everything.
Andrew, 50, sat at his desk, shuffling through papers while juggling scheduling meetings with his partners.
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He didn’t hear Michael, his assistant, enter the room. Michael stood there, waiting. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.
No response. Andrew kept working, his focus sharp. Michael tried again. “Mr. Smith.” Still no answer. He repeated his name three more times.
Finally, Andrew slammed his hands on the desk and snapped, “What?”
Michael didn’t flinch. “You asked me to tell you if your ex-wife called.”
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Andrew groaned and rubbed his temples. “How many times do I have to tell you? Ignore her calls. What now?”
Michael held a notepad. “She left a message. I should warn you—it’s a direct quote. Her words, not mine.” He read from the note. “‘You pompous jerk, I will never forgive you for wasting so many years of my life. If you don’t give me back my painting, I’ll smash your car.’ That’s the message.”
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Andrew’s face turned red. “We’ve been divorced for two years! Does she not have anything better to do?”
Michael looked at him, waiting for further instructions. “Should I respond to her?”
“No! And stop taking her calls,” Andrew said. Then he paused. “Actually, tell her I threw that painting in the trash!”
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Andrew grabbed a pen and hurled it toward the wall. Michael ducked slightly, gave a polite nod, and left the room.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He frowned, picking it up.
“Andrew Smith?” a voice asked.
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
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“This is the hospital. Your test results are ready. The doctor wants to see you.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew said, irritated. “I’m busy.”
“Sorry, sir. The doctor will explain in person.”
Andrew sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll come in.” He hung up, shaking his head.
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Andrew rarely allowed himself the luxury of a lunch break, but this time was different. The doctor’s office was quiet, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound.
Andrew sat stiffly in a chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest. When the door opened, the doctor stepped in, his face serious. Andrew frowned, sensing bad news.
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The doctor sat across from him and spoke in a steady, measured tone, using terms Andrew didn’t understand.
Then came the word—cancer. “We need to act fast,” the doctor said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Andrew asked, his voice sharp. “I own a company. I can’t just check into a hospital.”
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The doctor met his eyes. “Your health should come first. The company can wait.”
Andrew leaned forward. “What are my chances of getting better?”
“I can’t promise anything,” the doctor said. “Starting treatment right away is critical.”
Andrew’s voice rose. “Can I still work while I’m here?”
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“Treatment affects everyone differently,” the doctor explained. “You will stay in the hospital so we can monitor you. Someone can bring you a computer.”
Andrew frowned and stood up. “Fine. I’ll sort it out.”
The doctor watched him leave. “We’ll see you tomorrow with your things,” he said before Andrew reached the door.
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As Andrew walked through the hospital’s pediatric wing, he noticed a boy, about eight years old, tossing a ball back and forth with a nurse.
The sound of their laughter echoed in the corridor. The ball suddenly rolled across the floor and stopped near Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir!” the boy called out, smiling. “Can you please throw the ball back?”
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Andrew picked up the ball, his face tense. Without a word, he hurled it down the hall, far from the boy and nurse, then turned and walked away.
“That was mean, sir!” the boy shouted.
Andrew had been in the hospital for days that felt like weeks. He tried to keep working, setting up his laptop and pushing through meetings.
But the treatment was draining. Each session left him weaker. The nausea was constant, and sleep was nearly impossible.
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One afternoon, during another long chemotherapy session, Andrew leaned back, his eyes half-closed. He felt miserable.
Suddenly, a small voice broke through his fog. He opened his eyes to see a boy standing in front of him. Startled, Andrew flinched. The boy giggled. It was the same boy from the corridor.
“What do you want, kid?” Andrew mumbled, not even lifting his head.
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“I’ve been walking around the hospital looking for someone to play with. It’s boring here.”
Andrew glanced at him, annoyed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tommy,” the boy replied with a wide grin.
Andrew sighed. “Listen, Tommy. I’m not in the mood to play. Go bother someone else before I start feeling worse.”
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Tommy didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small peppermint candy. He held it out to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated, then snatched the candy and set it on the table.
“You’re really grumpy!” Tommy said, laughing. “I’m going to call you Mr. Grouch. Are you mad because you’re scared of needles?” He pointed at the IV attached to Andrew’s arm.
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Andrew frowned. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s fine. I was scared at first too, but then I stopped. My mom says I’m a superhero. Do you have a superpower?”
“No,” Andrew said, his voice flat.
“That’s because you’re too sad,” Tommy replied, his tone serious now.
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Andrew looked at the boy, surprised by the honesty in his big, bright eyes. “Is there anything you want?” Andrew asked.
Tommy grinned. “Yeah. I want to buy flowers for my mom. She works really hard, but I don’t have any money.”
Andrew sighed again, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a few bills. “Here. Get your flowers. Maybe buy yourself something too. But leave me alone.”
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Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grouch!” He ran out, clutching the money, while Andrew stared at the peppermint candy on the table.
With a sigh, he picked it up, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. To his surprise, the sharp sweetness helped ease the nausea. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference for a while.
That evening, as Andrew stared at his laptop, a nurse knocked on his door.
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She carried a small paper bag. “This is for you,” she said, placing it on the table. “Tommy sent it.”
Andrew opened the bag and found it full of peppermint candies. He shook his head, unsure whether to feel amused or moved.
The next morning, he decided to find Tommy. He needed to make one thing clear: the money wasn’t a gift.
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As he approached Tommy’s room, he saw a woman leaning against the wall, her shoulders shaking. She was crying.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, his voice low.
The woman wiped her eyes quickly and looked up. “Yes… Did you need something?”
“Tommy gave me some candies yesterday,” Andrew said.
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The woman’s lips curved into a small smile. “Oh, so you’re Mr. Grouch,” she said.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “My name’s Andrew,” he replied.
“I’m Sara,” she said. “Are you here for treatment too?”
Andrew nodded.
“Then you understand,” Sara said quietly. “The bills, the stress. I can’t even pay rent right now. They told me we’ll be evicted in two months.”
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Andrew nodded again, unsure of what to say. Before he could respond, the door burst open. Tommy ran out, his face lighting up when he saw Andrew. “Hey, Mr. Grouch!” he called, grinning ear to ear.
From that day forward, Tommy became a constant presence in Andrew’s life.
The boy would wander into Andrew’s room with a big grin and endless energy. At first, Andrew found it annoying, but Tommy’s persistence wore him down.
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Soon, Andrew began looking forward to the visits. Tommy taught him to notice the simple joys in life.
They sat by the window, watching the sunset, guessing the colors in the sky. They played harmless pranks on nurses, earning scolding looks and stifled smiles.
Sometimes, they “borrowed” wheelchairs and raced down the halls, laughing until their sides hurt.
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Andrew didn’t ask about Tommy’s illness. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. One afternoon, Tommy mentioned Sara had been crying again. “She’s worried about money,” Tommy said. “We might lose our house.”
Andrew quietly gave Tommy an envelope of cash. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When Sara tried to return the money, Andrew waved her off. “I’m not a magician,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from.”
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Weeks passed. Andrew’s treatments worked, and the day came when the doctor gave him the news—he was cancer-free.
Ecstatic, Andrew rushed to share it with Tommy. But when he arrived, Tommy was unconscious, Sara sitting beside him, tears streaming down her face.
“What happened?” Andrew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Sara wiped her eyes and shook her head. “The doctors said there’s nothing more they can do.”
Andrew stared at her, struggling to process the words. “But… he seemed so happy. He always smiled. I thought he was improving.”
Sara looked at him, her face full of pain. “He didn’t want you to see how sick he was. He wanted to be strong for you. He thought he was a superhero.”
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Andrew’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
Sara managed a faint smile through her tears. “Don’t be. He said you saved him. These months, you gave him laughter and hope. You made him forget about being sick.”
Andrew shook his head slowly. “No. He’s the one who saved me.”
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He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. She cried quietly against his shoulder, and though Andrew wished he could take her pain away, he knew nothing would ever truly ease it.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of his mother and the memories he had made.
Andrew sat alone in his room afterward, overwhelmed by the loss. Andrew couldn’t bear the thought of such a bright soul being forgotten.
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Determined, he started a foundation in Tommy’s name to help sick children, ensuring his kindness would live on.
He also stayed in touch with Sara, offering her support in every way he could.
One afternoon, Andrew stood at his ex-wife’s door, holding the painting she had demanded for so long. She opened the door, her mouth ready to hurl accusations, but Andrew silently handed her the painting.
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“I’m not here to argue,” Andrew said, his tone calm as he held out the painting.
His ex-wife frowned, puzzled. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” Andrew replied, a small smile forming. “I’m just making sure I keep my superpowers.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Taking care of Mom was hard enough without the tension with my sister. Accusations flew when precious things started disappearing. I thought I knew who was to blame, but the truth shattered my world. Betrayal came from where I least expected, leaving me questioning everything—and everyone—I trusted.
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