When Anna, a single mom of three, finally gets promoted, her sleazy landlord hikes the rent… just because he can. But he’s about to learn the hard way that underestimating a tired woman with nothing left to lose is the biggest mistake of all. This time, Anna’s done playing nice.
I’m not usually a petty person. I don’t have the time. Between raising three kids and juggling a full-time job, petty has never fit into my calendar. But when someone comes for my peace, my babies and the roof over our heads… just because I caught a break?
Well. I don’t go down swinging. I go down strategizing.
A tired woman | Source: Midjourney
Let me back it up for you.
I’m Anna. I’m 36 and a single mom of three. My kids are my world, Liam’s eleven and he’s the kind of boy who holds doors without being asked and notices when I’ve had a hard day without saying a word.
Maya’s seven, loud and bold and always asking the questions no one else will. And then there’s Atlas, my four-year-old. He’s a walking tornado in Lightning McQueen socks, with curls that spring back no matter how often I try to tame them.
A smiling little boy | Source: Midjourney
Our mornings start before the sun even considers rising. I’m up by five, packing lunches, tying laces, brushing tangles and reheating coffee I’ll never get to finish. I work full-time as a team lead at a logistics company, though recently, I earned the title of Operations Manager.
After eight years of staying late, skipping lunch breaks and never taking sick days, someone finally saw me. The raise wasn’t huge but it meant that maybe, just maybe, I could start saying yes when my kids asked for something simple.
New shoes without holes. A school trip without borrowing from next month’s grocery fund. Name-brand cereal.
An aisle in a supermarket | Source: Midjourney
We’d been living in a modest two-bedroom rental for five years. We moved in just before Atlas was born. Just before their father, Ed, left the scene. The kids shared a room with bunk beds that creaked every time someone rolled over. I slept on the pull-out couch, my back a roadmap of tension and long days.
But it was ours.
Safe, clean, just 15 minutes from school and work. It wasn’t much but it was home.
A pull-out couch in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Frank, our landlord, was the kind of man who liked owning things, especially people’s silence. He ignored texts, delayed repairs and once told me, “With all those kids, you should be grateful you’ve got a place at all.”
I swallowed my pride and paid the rent. Because stability is priceless… until someone tries to sell it back to you at a markup.
Frank had this charming habit of treating me like a squatter who’d somehow lucked into a lease. He didn’t see a tenant, he saw a woman one missed payment away from being disposable.
An old man wearing a navy t-shirt | Source: Midjourney
Maintenance requests were met with silence, followed by slow, begrudging replies. The broken heater in December?
I texted him three times before he finally responded with, “Layer up, Anna. You and the kids. It’s not that cold.”
When the kitchen faucet exploded like a rusted geyser, soaking my shoes and nearly electrocuting the toaster, his response was just as bad.
A running tap | Source: Midjourney
“I can swing by next Thursday if it’s really urgent.”
But it was never urgent to him. Not the ants, the mold, or the fact that my front door lock jammed every single time it rained. He made me feel like asking for basic safety was asking for too much.
The worst part though?
It was the way he looked at me when we ran into each other, like a struggling single mom was a cautionary tale, not a human being. He once smirked.
A close up of an older man | Source: Midjourney
“You should be grateful you’ve got a place at all with all those kids.”
It was like my children were baggage. Like our home was a favor.
Still, I kept paying. On time, every month. Because starting over was expensive and even when the rent crept higher, it was still less than anywhere else that felt safe.
A pensive woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney
Then came the promotion.
It wasn’t fanfare and confetti but it was mine. A quiet win, hard-earned. I updated my LinkedIn.
“After years of juggling work and motherhood, I’m proud to say I’ve been promoted to Operations Manager. Hard work pays off!”
I didn’t expect applause. But I got kind messages from coworkers, old classmates, even one mom from daycare I barely knew.
An open laptop on a table | Source: Midjourney
“You make the impossible look easy,” she’d said.
I read that one three times.
I cried in the breakroom. It was just a few tears. Quiet ones. It felt like someone finally saw me, not just the tired eyes and the late arrivals.
Me.
Two days later, I got an email from Frank.
An emotional woman in a breakroom at work | Source: Midjourney
Subject: Rental Adjustment Notice
He was raising my rent by $500. No upgrades. No justification.
“Saw your little promotion post. Congrats! Figured that now’s the perfect time to squeeze a bit more out of you.”
I stared at the screen, blinking like the words might rearrange themselves into something less vile. Surely, this wasn’t real. It had to be a mistake. Some glitch. Maybe he’d sent it to the wrong tenant.
A woman sitting with her laptop | Source: Midjourney
I called him immediately, my hand trembling as I held the phone to my ear.
“Frank, that’s a massive increase,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve never missed rent. We have a lease…”
“Look,” he cut me off with a chuckle. “You wanted a career and a bunch of kids, that comes with bills. You’re not broke anymore, so don’t expect charity. If someone’s making more, they can pay more. It’s simple math, Anna. This is business, honey, not a daycare.”
A man talking on a phone | Source: Midjourney
I sat there, stunned, my mouth dry. My hand dropped into my lap, still clutching the phone. I could hear the kids laughing from the living room. Their laughter was so normal, so innocent, and it made the bile rise in my throat.
I hung up without another word.
That night, after bedtime routines were done and three small bodies were tucked into sheets that didn’t match, I found myself in the laundry room, holding a pile of mismatched socks like it was going to ground me.
Socks in a laundry basket | Source: Midjourney
I stood there for a long time.
There’s a specific kind of cry you have to hold in so your kids don’t hear it. The kind that sits in your chest, burning and shaking. That’s the one I swallowed.
Liam found me there. Barefoot, silent, gentle.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just tired,” I tried to smile.
A little boy standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
He nodded, settling beside me, back against the dryer.
“We’ll be okay,” he said, eyes on the floor. “You always figure it out.”
And somehow, hearing that from him broke me more than Frank ever could. And that’s when I made a decision.
I wasn’t going to beg. I wasn’t going to plead with Frank or scrape together money I didn’t have or sacrifice groceries for rent. I was done playing nice for people who saw kindness as weakness.
A woman leaning against a wall | Source: Midjourney
I was going to teach him something.
That week, I handed in my 30-day notice. No drama. Just a signed letter, slid into his mailbox like a resignation from his nonsense.
That same night, I opened my phone and posted in every local parenting and housing group I belonged to. Nothing flashy. Just the truth.
A red mailbox | Source: Midjourney
“Looking for a family-friendly rental? Avoid 116 Muscut Avenue. Landlord just raised rent by $500 because I got a promotion. Punishing working moms for succeeding? Not today, ladies and gents.”
I didn’t name him. I didn’t need to.
The post exploded overnight.
Moms started commenting with their own horror stories. One said Frank made her pay six months in advance because “women are flakey.” Another shared screenshots where he refused to fix mold because “it’s just a cosmetic issue, Jane.”
A phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
There were eye rolls. Rage reacts. One woman called him “a sleazy slumlord in a polo shirt.” Another said he once told her she should “marry rich if she wanted better maintenance.”
Then came Jodie. She was a mom I barely knew from PTA circles. She messaged me privately.
“Anna, this man tried to rent me that same unit and asked if my husband would co-sign. And do you want to know why? Just in case I got pregnant and couldn’t work.”
Jodie had receipts. And she posted them.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
Two days later, the post got picked up by a real estate watchdog page for our county. Someone even made a TikTok with dramatic piano music and transitions, zooming in on side-by-side photos of his crusty listing and my original post.
It was glorious.
And then, what do you know? Old Frank texted me.
“Hey, Anna. I’ve been thinking. Maybe the increase was too much too fast. Let’s keep the rent the same, yeah?”
A man texting on his phone | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t reply right away.
Instead, I picked up Maya from dance, still sweaty and glitter-speckled. I got Atlas from preschool, where he’d taped three pieces of construction paper together and called it a “rocket dog.”
I sat next to Liam while he worked through long division, his brows furrowed in concentration, his pencil chewed beyond saving.
A close up of a little girl | Source: Midjourney
I kissed all three of their heads like I always did, Maya’s quick, Atlas’s sticky, and Liam’s slightly embarrassed but tolerant. I made grilled cheese with the last slices of bread and pretended not to notice we were out of milk again.
I read “The Gruffalo” twice because Atlas asked.
“Do the monster voice again!” he whispered excitedly. I did it, even though my throat burned.
Grilled cheese sandwiches on a board | Source: Midjourney
Only after they were tucked in, only after I sat on the edge of my pull-out couch and stared at the chipped paint on the wall, did I finally reply.
“Thanks, Frank. But I’ve already signed a lease somewhere else. Just make sure to list the place as ‘pet-free’ though. The rats under the sink might not get along with the new tenant’s cat.”
He didn’t bother to respond. And I assumed that he had accepted my final notice.
We moved out at the end of the month. I didn’t cry when I closed the door. I didn’t look back.
A woman standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
A friend from one of the housing groups connected me to her cousin’s landlord. That’s how we found our new place. It’s a bit smaller, sure, but it has three real bedrooms.
No more bunk beds that creak, no more sleeping on coils and springs. There’s a patch of grass in the back, uneven, a little wild.
Atlas calls it his farm. Maya braided dandelions into a crown on our first weekend there. Liam’s already claimed the room with the best light and has started drawing again.
A dandelion crown on grass | Source: Midjourney
And our new landlord, Mrs. Calder?
She brought over a welcome basket with mini muffins and a handwritten card. She remembered all their names the next week. When I teared up, she pretended not to notice.
That night, after the chaos of moving boxes and tangled chargers and someone losing their only left shoe, we lay on the living room floor, all four of us. I stared at the ceiling and let myself exhale for the first time in months.
A basket of mini-muffins | Source: Midjourney
“Is this our forever home?” Atlas curled against me and whispered.
“It’s our better home,” I said. “Maybe our forever home… let’s see, okay?”
A week later, Frank’s listing popped up online. The rent was slashed by $300. Still no takers.
Sometimes, I still get DMs.
“I saw your post, thank you. I needed a push to get out.”
“He tried the same thing with me. Not this time!”
A little boy laying on a carpet | Source: Midjourney
It turns out, in a world where rent rises faster than hope, word of mouth is currency.
And respect? That costs nothing.
So if you think single moms are easy targets, if you think we’re too tired to fight back, too busy to speak up, just know…
We carry diaper bags and receipts. And we remember everything.
A smiling woman wearing a green sweater | Source: Midjourney
A few weeks after the move, once the boxes were flattened and the air finally smelled like us instead of dust and cardboard, I invited Mrs. Calder over for dinner.
I didn’t have much but I made the kind of meal that says thank you when words don’t stretch far enough. Roast chicken with herbed potatoes and carrots and enough gravy to drown every bite in comfort.
Liam peeled the carrots while pretending he was on a cooking show. Maya sprinkled rosemary with dramatic flair. Atlas was in charge of buttering the rolls, which mostly meant licking his fingers and smearing butter on his cheek.
A roast chicken with vegetables | Source: Midjourney
When Mrs. Calder arrived, she brought a peach cobbler and a bouquet of sunflowers. She wore a cardigan with cats on it and smiled like someone who meant it.
“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal with kids running around in years,” she said as she stepped inside. “This is already my favorite dinner.”
Dinner was full of laughter and seconds and gravy on everything. Liam explained how potatoes absorb flavor better when they’re slightly smashed. Maya insisted the chicken was juicier because she had whispered compliments to it while it roasted.
A peach cobbler | Source: Midjourney
Atlas dropped his roll, cried, then cheered when it bounced off his chair and landed on the table again. At one point, I caught myself watching them instead of eating. My children. Safe. Loud. Full.
“You’ve made this house feel like a home, Anna,” Mrs. Calder said. “Not many people can do that in just a few weeks.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. So I just smiled. And for the first time in a long time, it felt like we weren’t just surviving.
We were rooting.
A smiling older woman in a cat cardigan | Source: Midjourney
Woman Comes to Meet Her Fiancé’s Parents and Sees Another Woman Posing as Her at the Dinner — Story of the Day
A man falls in love with a large woman but he is ashamed to be seen with her in public so he invites a thin girl to go with him to his parents’ anniversary celebration.
Mark Hallspringer was determined to find the perfect woman: bright, charming, witty, and of course, beautiful with a dynamite figure and great style. After all, he was handsome, successful and athletic, and quite a catch. He deserved the best.
When Mark started talking to Anna, he had no romantic intentions whatsoever. She definitely wasn’t his type. The funny thing is that sometimes we get what we need, not what we want, and it took Mark a long, long time to realize that.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
It all started when Mark was asked to coordinate efforts between the company’s sales director and the marketing division. Marketing, as it turned out, was being run very efficiently by a woman called Anna Coulton.
Even though Mark and Anna had been working in the same company and the same building for three years, they had never met, not at meetings, or mixers, or even the Christmas party.
Mark sent Anna an email asking her to explain how she was articulating her marketing push with the sales division (sales were lagging and blaming marketing).
Anna’s reply was concise, clear, and neatly put the ball back on the salesforce side of the fence. Mark liked the way her mind worked, and he also liked the fact that she had put forward several suggestions to help boost sales.
The next day, he called her on the phone to discuss her ideas, and to set up a meeting between her and the sales director. Anna had a lovely throaty voice, and a lovely laugh, and halfway through they were chatting like old friends.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
From then on, Mark found himself calling Anna — supposedly to check up on progress — but in reality to hear her voice. He liked Anna Coulton’s intelligence and sense of humor, and he loved talking to her.
A few weeks of daily conversations down the line, Mark asked Anna out on a date. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Are you sure about that, Mark?” Anna asked.
“Of course!” Mark said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I may not be what you expect,” she said quietly. “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”
“Tea…” said Mark. “Did I ever tell you my mother’s British? I love tea, every type of tea, I’m addicted to tea…” Anna laughed and reluctantly agreed to have lunch with Mark on Saturday.
The day arrived and Mark waited impatiently outside the restaurant for Anna to arrive. “I should have asked if she was a blonde or a brunette!” he thought to himself. “How will I know who she is?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Just then, a large girl approached Mark and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hello, Mark,” said Anna’s throaty, sexy voice. “I’m Anna.”
Mark was stunned. Whatever he had expected wasn’t this! Anna was beautiful, yes, very beautiful with a face worthy of the cover of Vogue, but she was overweight. She was what they now tactfully call a plus-size.
But then they started talking, and Mark forgot about her weight and found himself completely fascinated by Anna and her radiant smile. At the end of lunch, he already knew he wanted to see her again.
Over the next six months, they fell in love, but Mark found himself cringing from the idea that other people would know he was dating a big girl. The truth is, he was embarrassed, and that embarrassment shamed him.
At work, they kept their relationship under wraps, because of company policy, but Mark had already met Anna’s family and knew she was waiting to meet his. The issue became even more pressing when he found himself proposing one night.
He loved Anna. He wanted to spend all his time, the rest of his life with her, but he didn’t want anyone to know… He imagined his kid brother’s smirk as he eyed Anna’s ample curves. No! It wasn’t going to happen!
Then disaster struck. His parents were having their 40th wedding anniversary celebration and Anna helped him to shop for a present. “So when is the party, babe?” Anna asked excitedly. “I can’t wait to meet them! Do they know we’re engaged?”
Mark nodded. “Yes, they do! They know all about you!” That was a lie. All that his parents knew was that Mark was in love and engaged to a beautiful girl called Anna, but they knew nothing specific about her at all.
Mark explained that the party would be at his parents’ home in Connecticut, and they would take the two-hour drive over on Friday night, then spend the weekend. Anna was delighted, and Mark was horrified. How was he going to get out of this bind? Anna expected to go, and his parents expected her there…
Then Mark had an idea. It was a stupid idea, though it seemed to be brilliant at the time mostly because it would save him embarrassment.
Two days before they were supposed to drive up to Connecticut, Mark called Anna. “Honey, I have bad news!” he said. “I’m on a plane. The board wants me up in Colorado to sort out a labor issue, which means I’ll be flying directly to Connecticut on Saturday morning, if at all. I’m sorry, you won’t be able to go with me!”
Anna was very disappointed. “Oh, no!” she gasped, I’m so sorry. But what about your present? Do you want me to send it by special delivery?”
Mark sighed with relief. Anna was taking it well. “Baby, that would be brilliant! Let me give you my parents’ address…”
Anna hung up the phone. Poor Mark! He’d sounded so disappointed! Anna stared down at his parents’ address and an idea popped into her head. Why not deliver the gift in person? It would be a lovely surprise for Mark!
That it would be a mistake didn’t even cross Anna’s mind until she knocked on the door of Mark’s parents’ house and a slender older woman answered.
“Yes?” the woman said politely.
Anna gave her best smile. “Hi,” she said. “This is an anniversary gift for Mr. and Mrs. Hallspringer?”
The woman smiled and took the present from Anna’s hands. “Thank you!” she said and started to close the door.
Anna put out her hand. “I’m Anna. Anna Coulton, Mark’s fiancée?” She started to feel nervous when the woman’s mouth hung open.
“Is this a joke, young woman?” she asked sternly. “Because my son and his fiancée Anna are sitting down to dinner with me this minute…” Anna pushed past the woman rudely and walked into the house.
There was a big table set up in the dining room and at one end was Mark, and next to him, hanging on to his arm was a slender gorgeous girl. “Mark!” Anna cried. “What is going on here?”
Mark jumped to his feet and his face turned deadly white. “Anna-” he stuttered. “It’s not what you think… This woman, she’s an actress…”
“I don’t understand,” Anna cried. “If you don’t love me, why did you propose!”
“I do love you!” Mark said. “It’s just that… I was afraid…You…You know…”
“No,” Anna said. “I don’t know. What about me?” The other people around the table were sitting in absolute silence and most of them were looking down, and away from Mark.
Mark whispered, “You’re so…big.”
Anna looked him in the eyes for one long moment then she took off her ring and placed it on the table.
“You don’t know what love is. If you loved me,” she said sadly, “you wouldn’t be ashamed of me.” Before Mark could say another word, she turned her back and walked out.
Mark tried to phone Anna again and again, but she wouldn’t take his phone calls, not even at work. He was desolate. He missed Anna more and more, and he now realized he might have lost her forever.
There had to be a way to win her back, to make her see that he’d learned his lesson… The next day, when Anna was walking up to the office block she and Mark worked in, she saw a crowd of her colleagues milling around in front of the building and pointing at a huge billboard on the other side of the street.
When they saw Anna, they all started to whistle and clap. Anna frowned, then she saw the billboard, and her mouth dropped open. On the huge billboard was a photo of herself and Mark, with their arms around each other.
A huge caption proclaimed, “I LOVE ANNA COULTON AND I WANT TO MARRY HER!” Anna was still trying to process the whole scene when Mark walked up to her and dropped to one knee.
“Please marry me,” Mark said with tears in his eyes. “I love you, now and forever, forgive me even if I’m an idiot!”
“You ARE an idiot!” Anna said, “But I still love you!”
Anna and Mark are making plans for a winter wedding up in Connecticut and all their friends and both families are invited.
What can we learn from this story?
- Accept people for who and what they are. Mark was in love with Anna but he was afraid of what people would think because she was plus-size.
- What matters the most is the love and kindness in people’s hearts, not their looks. When he lost Anna, Mark finally realized what really mattered to him.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a disabled woman who sees her father-in-law disappear into the woods with her two young children.
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