When a grouchy old man slams the door on a persistent teen, he thinks he’s rid of her for good. But when a hurricane traps them together, the storm outside reveals the truth about her shocking connection to his past.
Frank had lived alone for many years. The quiet suited him, and he’d long accepted the absence of friends or family in his life. So, when he heard a knock at the door one Saturday morning, he was startled but more annoyed than curious.
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With a heavy groan, he pushed himself out of his recliner. When he opened the door, he saw a teenage girl standing on the porch, no older than sixteen.
Before she could speak, Frank snapped, “I don’t want to buy anything, I don’t want to join any church, I don’t support homeless kids or kittens, and I’m not interested in environmental issues.” Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut.
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He turned to leave but froze when the doorbell rang again. With a sigh, he shuffled back to his chair, grabbed the remote, and turned up the TV volume.
The weather report showed a hurricane warning for the city. Frank glanced at it briefly, then shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he mumbled. His basement was built to withstand anything.
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The doorbell didn’t stop. It kept ringing, over and over. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Each ring grated on Frank’s nerves. Finally, he stomped back to the door, muttering to himself. He flung it open with a scowl.
“What?! What do you want?!” he barked, his voice echoing down the quiet street.
The girl stood there, calm, her eyes fixed on him. “You’re Frank, right? I need to talk to you,” she said.
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Frank narrowed his eyes. “Let’s say I am. Who are you, and why are you on my porch? Where are your parents?”
“My name is Zoe. My mom died recently. I don’t have any parents now,” she said, her voice steady.
“I couldn’t care less,” Frank snapped. He grabbed the edge of the door and started to push it closed.
Before it could shut, Zoe pressed her hand against it. “Aren’t you curious why I’m here?” she asked, her tone unwavering.
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“The only thing I’m curious about,” Frank growled, “is how long it’ll take you to leave my property and never come back!” He shoved her hand off the door and slammed it so hard the frame rattled.
The doorbell stopped. Frank peered through the curtains, checking the yard. It was empty.
With a deep sigh, he turned away, feeling victorious. Little did he know, this was only the beginning of his nightmare.
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The next morning, Frank woke up, grumbling as he dragged himself to the front door to grab his newspaper.
His jaw dropped when he saw the state of his house. Smashed eggs dripped down the walls, their sticky residue glinting in the sunlight.
Large, crude words were scrawled across the paint in messy black letters, making his blood boil.
“What in the world?!” he shouted, looking around the street, but it was empty.
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Grinding his teeth, he stormed back inside, grabbed his cleaning supplies, and spent the entire day scrubbing.
His hands ached, his back throbbed, and he swore under his breath with every stroke.
By evening, exhausted but relieved to see the walls clean, he stepped onto his porch with a cup of tea.
But his relief was short-lived. Garbage was scattered across his yard—cans, old food, and torn papers littered the lawn.
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“Stupid girl!” he shouted at no one in particular, his voice echoing through the quiet neighborhood.
He stomped down the steps, grabbed some trash bags, and began cleaning. As he bent to pick up a rotten tomato, his eyes caught a note taped to his mailbox.
He yanked it off and read aloud, “Just listen to me, and I’ll stop bothering you. —Zoe.” At the bottom, scrawled in bold numbers, was a phone number.
Frank crumpled the note and hurled it into the trash.
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The next morning, loud shouting woke him. He looked outside to see a group of people waving signs.
“Who the hell are you?!” he yelled, opening the window.
“We’re here for the environment! Thanks for letting us use your yard!” a hippie-looking woman called.
Fuming, Frank grabbed a broom and chased them off. Once they were gone, he noticed a caricature of himself drawn on the driveway with the caption, “I hate everyone.”
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On his front door was another note:
“Just listen to me, or I’ll come up with more ways to annoy you.
—Zoe.
P.S. The paint doesn’t wash off.”
And again at the bottom was a phone number.
Frank stormed inside, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed the phone and dialed Zoe’s number with shaking hands. “Come to my house. Now,” he barked and hung up before she could respond.
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When Zoe arrived, her jaw dropped. Two police officers stood on the porch beside Frank, their expressions serious.
“What the—? Are you kidding me?!” Zoe shouted, glaring at him.
Frank folded his arms and smirked. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Guess what? You’re not.”
The officers cuffed Zoe. “You old jerk!” she yelled as they led her to the car. Frank watched, smug, believing this was the end of his troubles.
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The next day, the city issued a hurricane warning. The winds howled, bending trees and tossing debris down the empty streets.
Frank looked out the window as he prepared to head for his basement. His eyes widened when he spotted Zoe outside, clutching her backpack and stumbling against the wind.
“What are you doing out there?!” Frank shouted, flinging open the door. The wind nearly tore it from his hand.
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Zoe turned, her hair whipping around her face. “What does it look like?! I’m looking for shelter!” she yelled, her voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “I have nowhere else to go!”
“Then come inside!” Frank barked, stepping onto the porch.
“No way!” Zoe snapped. “I’d rather face this hurricane than go in your house!”
Frank gritted his teeth. “You were desperate to talk to me yesterday. What changed now?”
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“I realized you’re a selfish, grumpy idiot!” Zoe shot back.
Frank had enough. He stomped down the steps, grabbed her backpack, and hauled her toward the door.
“Let me go!” Zoe screamed, twisting against his grip. “I’m not going with you! Let me go!”
“Are you out of your mind?!” Frank bellowed, slamming the door behind them. “Stay out there, and you’ll die!”
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“Maybe that’s fine! I have nothing left anyway! ” Zoe yelled, her face red. “And do you think your stupid house is some kind of fortress?!”
“My basement is fortified,” Frank growled. “It’s survived worse than this. Follow me.”
Zoe glared at him but hesitated. After a moment, she sighed and trudged after him toward the basement.
The basement was surprisingly cozy. It looked like a small, well-used living room. A single bed sat tucked in one corner, with shelves of old books lining the walls.
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A pile of paintings leaned against the far side, their colors muted by age. Zoe glanced around, unimpressed, then dropped onto the couch with a loud sigh.
“You wanted to say something? Now’s your chance,” Frank said, standing stiffly near the stairs.
“Now you’re ready to listen?” Zoe asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We’re stuck here for who knows how long. Might as well get it over with,” Frank replied, leaning against a shelf and folding his arms.
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“Fine,” Zoe said. She reached into her backpack, pulled out some folded papers, and handed them to him.
Frank frowned as he took them. “What’s this?”
“My emancipation papers,” Zoe said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Frank blinked. “What?”
“It’s so I can live on my own,” Zoe explained. “Without parents. Without guardians.”
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“How old are you?” Frank asked, squinting at the documents.
“Sixteen… almost,” Zoe replied, her voice firm.
“And why do you need my signature?” Frank asked, looking at her sharply.
Zoe met his eyes without hesitation. “Because you’re my only living relative. I’m your granddaughter. Remember your wife? Your daughter?”
Frank’s face paled. “That’s impossible.”
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“It’s very possible,” Zoe said with a cold laugh. “Social services gave me your address. When Grandma talked about you, I thought she was exaggerating. Now I see she didn’t tell me half of it.”
“I’m not signing this. You’re still a child. The system can take care of you.”
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“You’re joking, right?” Zoe snapped. “You were a terrible father and husband! You left Grandma and Mom to chase some fantasy about painting. Your art isn’t even good—I was better at five! And now, after all that, you won’t even sign a piece of paper to help me?”
Frank’s hands clenched. “It was my dream to be an artist!” he shouted.
“It was my dream too!” Zoe shot back. “But Grandma’s gone. Mom’s gone. And you’re the only family I have. You’re also the worst person I’ve ever met!”
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They sat in silence after that, the tension heavy in the room. Frank knew Zoe was right. He had been selfish. Back then, he had seen only his art, blind to everything else.
After two hours, Frank finally spoke. “Do you even have a place to stay?”
“I’m working on it,” Zoe muttered. “I’ve got a job. I still have Mom’s car. I can manage.”
“You should be in school, not figuring out how to survive,” Frank said.
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“Life doesn’t work out the way we want,” Zoe replied, her voice soft but firm.
For the next few hours, Frank sat silently, watching Zoe sketch in her notebook. Her pencil moved with confidence, every stroke purposeful.
He hated to admit it, but her art was bold, creative, and alive. It was far better than anything he had ever painted.
The radio crackled to life, its monotone voice announcing the hurricane had passed. The storm was over.
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Frank stood, his joints stiff, and gestured toward the stairs. “Let’s go up,” he said. Once upstairs, he glanced at Zoe and handed her the signed documents without a word.
“You were right,” he said, his voice low. “I was a terrible husband. A lousy father too. I can’t change any of that. But maybe I can help change someone’s future.”
Zoe stared at the papers for a moment, then slipped them into her backpack. “Thanks,” she said quietly.
Frank looked at her and nodded. “Don’t stop painting. You’ve got talent.”
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Zoe slung the bag over her shoulder. “Life decided otherwise,” she said, heading for the door.
“You can stay here,” Frank said suddenly.
Zoe froze. “What?”
“You can live here,” Frank said. “I can’t undo my mistakes, but I also can’t throw my own granddaughter out on the street.”
“Do you really want me to stay?” Zoe asked.
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“Not exactly,” Frank admitted. “But I think we might both learn something.”
Zoe smirked. “Fine. Thanks. But I’m taking all your art supplies. I’m way better than you.”
She turned toward the basement. Frank shook his head. “Stubborn and arrogant. You get that from me.”
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This GIrl Left Her Family at 14 to Pursue Music in Another Country — Now She’s World-Famous with Guinness Records
This young girl was born into a large, ethnically Albanian family. Her parents moved to London from Albania three years before she was born. She grew up in London for much of her formative years.
However, when she turned 11, her parents told her they would no longer live in London. Instead, they were moving back to their native country. It was the end of primary school for the girl, and all her friends were also going to different schools, but none were in a foreign country.
Despite the significant change, the girl was excited to go to Kosovo and see her cousins who lived there. However, three years later, at 14, she told her parents she didn’t want to live there anymore. She moved away and went on to break Guinness World Records.
The Girl’s Childhood
The girl was born to a Bosnian mother and a Kosovan father. In the 90s, her parents experienced war in their home country. Her mother and father were living with her paternal grandfather, the head of the Kosovo Institute of History.
Although the girl’s grandfather took pride in his career, it ended when the war broke out. She shared:
“Once the Serbians came in, they wanted a lot of the historians to rewrite the history of Kosovo. To change it – that Kosovo was always part of Serbia and never part of Yugoslavia. And my grandfather was one of those people who wouldn’t, so he lost his job because he didn’t want to write a history that he didn’t believe to be true.”
In 1992, the girl’s parents moved from Albania to London to seek refuge from the war. However, their parents stayed behind in Bosnia and Kosovo. The girl’s father never got to say goodbye to his father as he died of a heart attack the year the war ended when the borders were still closed. Despite all the heartache the couple had experienced, they welcomed their daughter in northwest London in 1995.
The girl said that she watched her parents work every day of her life. Her father was working toward becoming a dentist and her mother a lawyer when they were forced to flee their home country. Being in London forced them to take jobs in cafés and bars. They also went back to school.
Although she was proud of her parents growing up, the girl was not always proud of her name, which means “love” in Albanian. Although she is proud of it now, she wanted a more common name growing up. Her name made her feel different from everyone else.
Another thing that embarrassed her growing up was the fact that her parents looked different from others. In school, the boys would tell her how attractive her mother was, and the girls would say the same about her father, which she didn’t enjoy.
As a young girl, she was strong-willed and ambitious. She knew she wanted to be a star and figured she wouldn’t be able to make it happen living in Kosovo.
One day, she sat her parents down and told them she wanted to return to London. She explained that she wanted to be a superstar and knew she would never be able to do it without being in a city like London. She planned to go to the Sylvia Young Theatre School on Saturdays and wanted to be where a lot was happening. She admitted:
“I didn’t think I’d be able to do this on a global scale, living in Kosovo.”
She tricked her parents into letting her go by telling them she wanted to attend an excellent British university and said she would need to do her GCSEs and A-levels in English to get there.
Her parents relented, and when she got back to London, she went to the Sylvia Young Theatre School and began recording demo tapes, which she uploaded to YouTube and Soundcloud.
Although she could have run wild in London without much parental supervision, the girl knew that her parents trusted her, and she needed to uphold her end of the deal. The only parental supervision she had was from the family friends she was staying with while in London. She joked that she was the mom of her friend group and always responsible.
With this responsibility came ambition. The girl knew she wanted to be a star and started contacting producers. When one offered a publishing deal, she found a lawyer who told her not to accept it. He then found her her current manager, leading to her being discovered.
Her love for music, singing, and dancing started when she was very young, putting on performances for her friends and family all the time. She knew she had a natural talent when her singing teacher in London moved her into a class with teenagers when she was nine.
The first concert she attended in Kosovo was Redman and Method Man, as hip-hop was massive in Kosovo then. She also wished to see performers like Nelly Furtado and Pink in her hometown, but they had yet to come.
When she finally became successful, she returned to Kosovo with the Sunny Hill Festival, which brings international artists to Kosovo. She hopes that this festival is something that the people in her hometown can enjoy for many years.
Her younger brother and sister are also interested in the entertainment industry. Her little sister graduated from drama school, and her brother started producing music when he was seventeen. The girl is incredibly proud of her family, especially her parents. She once gushed:
“Everything I speak about comes from my upbringing. Seeing my parents adapt to any situation, raise a family, work many jobs, go to university in the evening… I watched them sacrifice, yet I understand how lucky I am to have a British passport and to have come back to London for my career.”
Her parents’ relationship also challenged the girl because, as she told it, her mother married her first love and first boyfriend. She felt pressure and thought that people saw something was wrong with her because she was single in her mid-20s.
However, she realized that it’s okay to be selfish and work on yourself before getting into a serious relationship and certainly before bringing any children into the world.
Who Is the Girl?
Dua Lipa is the girl with the name she couldn’t stand when she was a little girl. Despite all the adversity she faced growing up, she has now become a world-famous pop star and has broken many records.
In March last year, her song “Levitating” became the longest-charting Billboard Hot 100 hit ever. Her 2020 Thanksgiving weekend Studio 2054 livestream also broke records, amassing over 5 million views, and breaking the Guinness World Record for most tickets sold for a live-streamed concert by a solo female artist. She enjoyed the experience so much that even when she was allowed to tour, she would livestream again.
In 2021, she also became the most listened-to female artist on Spotify, for which she landed another Guinness World Record. However, she remains humble and does not take too much note of the awards she has won, even though she has been nominated for 10 Grammys and has won three.
Lipa’s professional life is going well, and her personal life is on the up, too. She recently gained Albanian citizenship. A video shows her signing the papers and beaming from ear to ear as she is granted citizenship.
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