I lost everything in one day—my job, my home, and then my father. At his will reading, my sister took the house and shut me out. I was left with nothing but an old apiary… and a secret I never saw coming.
Routine. That was the foundation of my life. I stocked shelves, greeted customers with a polite smile, and memorized who always bought which brand of cereal or how often they ran out of milk.
At the end of every shift, I counted my wages, setting aside a little each week without a clear purpose. It was more a habit than a plan.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
And then, in a single day, everything crumbled like a dry cookie between careless fingers.
“We’re making cuts, Adele,” my manager said. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t wait for a response. There was nothing to discuss. I took off my name tag and placed it on the counter.
I walked home silently, but as soon as I reached my apartment building, something felt off. The front door was unlocked, and a faint trace of unfamiliar female perfume lingered in the air.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My boyfriend, Ethan, stood beside my suitcase in the living room.
“Oh, you’re home. We need to talk.”
“I am listening.”
“Adele, you’re a great person, really. But I feel like I’m… evolving. And you’re just… staying the same.”
“Oh, I see,” I muttered.
“I need someone who pushes me to be better,” he added, glancing toward the window.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
That “someone” was currently waiting outside in his car.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I picked up my suitcase and walked out. The city felt enormous, and suddenly, I had nowhere to go. Then my phone rang.
“I’m calling about Mr. Howard. I’m very sorry, but he has passed away.”
Mr. Howard. That’s what they called him. But to me, he was Dad. And just like that, my route was set.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
In half an hour, I bought a bus ticket and left the city behind, heading to the place where my childhood had been rewritten. Howard had never been my father by blood. He had been my father by choice.
When I was almost grown, after years of drifting through foster care, he and my adoptive mother took me in. I wasn’t a cute, wide-eyed toddler who would easily mold into a family. I was a teenager.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But they loved me anyway. They taught me what home felt like. And finally, that home was gone. My mother had passed away a year ago. And then… my father had followed.
I was an orphan again.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The funeral service was quiet. I stood in the back, too consumed by grief to acknowledge the sharp glances my adoptive sister, Synthia, kept throwing my way. She wasn’t happy I was еhere, but I didn’t care.
After the service, I went straight to the lawyer’s office, expecting nothing more than a few tools from Dad’s garage, something small to remember him by.
The lawyer unfolded the will.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“As per the last testament of Mr. Howard, his residence, including all belongings within, is to be inherited by his biological daughter, Synthia Howard.”
Synthia smirked as if she had just won something she always knew was hers. Then, the lawyer continued.
“The apiary, including all its contents, is hereby granted to my other daughter Adele.”
“Excuse me?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“The beekeeping estate,” the lawyer repeated. “As per Mr. Howard’s request, Adele is to take ownership of the land, its hives, and any proceeds from future honey production. Furthermore, she has the right to reside on the property as long as she maintains and cares for the beekeeping operation.”
Synthia let out a short, bitter laugh.
“You’re joking.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“It’s all outlined in the document.” The lawyer held up the papers.
Synthia’s gaze sliced through me. “You? Taking care of bees? You don’t even know how to keep a houseplant alive, let alone an entire apiary.”
“It’s what Dad wanted,” I said finally, though my voice lacked conviction.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Fine. You want to stay? You can have your damn bees. But don’t think you’re moving into the house.”
“What?”
“The house is mine, Adele. You want to live on this property? Then you’ll take what you’ve been given.”
A slow dread crept into my stomach.
“And where exactly do you expect me to sleep?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“There’s a perfectly good barn out back. Consider it part of your new rustic lifestyle.”
I could have fought her. Could have argued. But I had nowhere else to go. I had lost my job. My life. My father. And even though I was supposed to have a place there, I was treated like a stranger.
“Fine.”
Synthia let out another laugh, standing up and grabbing her purse.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Well, I hope you like the smell of hay.”
That evening, I carried my bag toward the barn. The scent of dry hay and earth greeted me as I stepped inside. Somewhere outside, chickens clucked, settling in for the night.
The sounds of the farm surrounded me. I found a corner, dropped my bag, and sank onto the straw.
The tears came silently, hot streaks against my cheeks. I had nothing left. But I wasn’t going to leave. I was going to stay. I was going to fight.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The nights were still cold, even as spring stretched its fingers across the land. So, in the morning, I walked into town and spent the last of my savings on a small tent. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
When I arrived back at the estate, dragging the box behind me, Synthia was standing on the porch. She watched as I unpacked the metal rods and fabric, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“This is hilarious,” she said, leaning against the wooden railing. “You’re really doing this? Playing the rugged farm girl now?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I ignored her and continued setting up.
I remembered the camping trips I used to take with Dad: how he had shown me how to build a fire pit, set up a proper shelter, and store food safely outdoors. Those memories fueled me at that moment.
I gathered stones from the edge of the property and built a small fire ring. I set up a simple outdoor cooking area using an old iron grate I found in the barn. It wasn’t a house. But it was a home.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Synthia, watching the whole time, shook her head.
“Springtime camping is one thing, Adele. But what’s your plan when it gets colder?”
I didn’t take the bait. I had bigger things to worry about.
That afternoon, I met Greg, the beekeeper my father had worked with for years. I had been told he was the one who had maintained the apiary after Dad passed, but I hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet.
Greg was standing by the hives when I approached. He frowned when he saw me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, it’s you.”
“I need your help,” I said, straight to the point. “I want to learn how to keep the bees.”
Greg let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You?”
He eyed me up and down, taking in my entire existence that screamed city girl.
“No offense, but do you even know how to approach a hive without getting stung to death?”
I straightened my shoulders. “Not yet. But I’m willing to learn.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah? And what makes you think you’ll last?”
I could feel Synthia’s voice echoing in my head, her constant sneers, her dismissive laughter.
“Because I don’t have a choice.”
Greg, to my surprise, let out a low chuckle.
“Alright, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Learning was harder than I had expected.
I had to get past my fear of the bees first—the way they swarmed, the low hum of their bodies vibrating through the air. The first time I put on the protective suit, my hands trembled so badly that Greg had to redo the straps for me.
“Relax,” Greg said. “They can sense fear.”
“Great. Just what I needed.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He laughed at that.
“If you don’t want them to sting you, don’t act like prey.”
Over the next few weeks, Greg taught me everything: how to install foundation sheets into the frames, inspect a hive without disturbing the colony, and spot the queen among thousands of identical bees.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Some days, I was exhausted before noon. My body ached from carrying the heavy frames. I smelled like smoke and sweat and earth. And yet, I had a purpose.
That evening, the air smelled wrong.
I had just stepped onto the property, my arms full of groceries, when a sharp, acrid scent curled into my nostrils.
Smoke. Oh, no! My beehives…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
The fire was raging, orange tongues licking at the darkening sky. Flames crawled over the dry grass, consuming everything in their path.
My tent was in ruins, its fabric curling and melting under the heat. The fire had devoured everything inside—my clothes, bedding, the last remnants of what I had managed to build for myself.
But my eyes locked on the beehives.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
They were close to the flames, the thick smoke drifting in their direction. If the fire reached them…
No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I grabbed a bucket beside the well and ran toward the fire, but…
“Adele! Get back!”
Greg.
I turned to see him sprinting across the field. A second later, others followed—neighbors, local farmers, even the older man from the general store. They carried shovels, buckets, and anything they could find.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I barely had time to process what was happening before they moved into action.
“Get the sand!” Greg barked.
And I realized some people were dragging heavy sacks of dry dirt from the barn. They tore them open and started smothering the fire, throwing sand over the flames, cutting off their air.
My lungs burned from the smoke, but I kept going. We worked together until the flames finally died.
I turned toward the house. Synthia stood on the balcony, watching.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
She hadn’t lifted a single finger to help. I turned away.
The beehives were safe. But my home was gone.
Greg approached, wiping the soot from his forehead. His gaze drifted toward the window where Synthia had stood just moments ago.
“Kid, you don’t have the safest neighborhood. I’d recommend harvesting that honey sooner rather than later.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
We washed our hands, shook off the exhaustion, and, without another word, got to work.
I lifted the wooden frame from the hive, brushing off the few bees still crawling across the surface. The combs were full, golden, glistening in the soft evening light.
And then I saw it. A small, yellowed envelope was wedged between the wax panels. My breath caught. Carefully, I pulled it free and read the words scrawled across the front.
“For Adele.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Inside, folded neatly, was a second will. That was the actual will. I began to read.
“My dearest Adele,
If you are reading this, then you have done exactly what I hoped—you stayed. You fought. You proved, not to me, but to yourself, that you are stronger than anyone ever gave you credit for.
I wanted to leave you this home openly, but I knew I wouldn’t get the chance. Synthia would never allow it. She has always believed that blood is the only thing that makes a family. But you and I both know better.
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I didn’t have time to file this will officially, but I knew exactly where to place it—somewhere only you would find it. I hid it in the very thing she despises most, the one thing she would never touch. I knew that if you chose to stay and see this through, you would earn what was always meant to be yours.
Adele, this house was never just walls and a roof—it was a promise. A promise that you could always have a place where you belong.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
As my final wish, I leave you everything. The house, the land, the beekeeping estate—everything now belongs to you. Make it a home. Make it yours.
With all my love,
Dad”
The house had always been mine.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
That evening, when Greg and I finished harvesting the honey, I walked up the house’s front steps for the first time. Synthia sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea. I placed the will on the table in front of her.
“Where did you get this?” she asked after reading.
“Dad hid it in the beehives. He knew you’d try to take everything, so he ensured you wouldn’t find it.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
For the first time since I arrived, she had nothing to say.
“You can stay,” I said, and she looked up at me, startled. “But we run this place together. We either learn to live like a family or don’t live here at all.”
Synthia scoffed, setting the will down. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Then, finally, she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a slow, tired laugh.
“Fine. But I’m not touching the damn bees.”
“Deal.”
The days passed, and life slowly took shape. I sold my first jars of honey, watching my hard work finally pay off. Synthia took care of the house, keeping it in order while I tended to the bees. And Greg became a friend, someone to sit with on the porch at sunset, sharing quiet moments and stories about the day.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When I told my husband I was pregnant, he froze. When he saw the ultrasound, he panicked. The following day, he was gone—no calls, no trace. But I wasn’t about to just let him disappear. I needed answers… and payback.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
A Few Hours before Wedding, Groom Puts on Jacket and Finds a Letter from His Mother in Its Pocket — Story of the Day
Today’s story is about a man who found a note from his mother in his jacket pocket a few hours before the wedding and couldn’t stop crying when he read it.
Kale was restless as he lay on his bed. He’d been trying to sleep for an hour, but sleep seemed to have other plans. What are you doing, Kale? The man sighed and buried his face in the pillow, cursing himself. You need to sleep! What will Camilla think if she sees you groggy on your wedding day?
But after nearly an hour, Kale still hadn’t fallen asleep. He finally sat up, took out the family album from his side drawer, and began flipping through the photos, remembering the old days.
Kale received a letter from his mother on his wedding day | Photo: Shutterstock
He was just 5 years old when his father David died in a car accident. David ran a small grocery store, and they didn’t make much money back then. The family was already struggling, and his father’s death devastated his mother, Lillian, but she never showed her pain to her son and did her best to raise him.
When he turned 18, she worked several jobs just to send him to college. The store was still there, but it wasn’t enough to provide for his education.
So the elderly lady worked multiple jobs and saved every penny she could, promising herself that she would help her son fulfill his dream of becoming a software engineer. And Kale, like a good son, did not disappoint his mother.
He worked hard and graduated magna cum laude from New York University. He also had several good offers and a handsome package by the end of his senior year of college.
However, by that time, Lilian’s health wasn’t doing well. She didn’t tell her son about it because she didn’t want him to worry. So when Kale returned to his Florida home one day, he was surprised to discover his mother almost lifeless on the bed.
Kale became a successful software engineer | Photo: Unsplash
He immediately called a doctor, who delivered the sad news to him that Lilian was suffering from Alzheimer’s. It was still in its early stages, but her condition was rapidly deteriorating because she didn’t take care of herself.
Kale was advised to transfer her to an old-age home where she would be cared for, but he didn’t want to do that. He tried to take care of his mother in the same way she had taken care of him and applied for a leave of absence to do so. However, nothing changed. Lilian’s condition worsened to the point where she could no longer recognize her own son.
When Kale saw his mother in that state, he became terrified and decided to move her to a nursing home. However, he didn’t want to leave her alone, so he brought her to New York and found a home for her over there.
Three years passed like that, and Lilian’s condition thankfully did not deteriorate, but she still had those moments when she forgot everything, including Kale.
Kale moved his mother to a nursing home | Photo: Unsplash
One day, Kale took his girlfriend, Camilla, to see his mother. They had just recently started dating then and when Lilian met Camilla, her eyes welled up. More surprisingly, she recognized Kale that day. But on their next visit, it was the same story again, where Lilian declared she never had a son.
A few years later, Kale and Camilla were already engaged and they went to visit Lilian to invite her to the wedding. But the poor woman didn’t recognize them both and kept asking how they knew her.
Kale ran out of the nursing home in tears. “What do I do, Camilla? Mom doesn’t even recognize us! And the wedding is just two days away!”
“It’s okay, honey,” Camilla consoled him. “I have an idea if you want your mother to attend our wedding.”
Camilla suggested that they’d hold two weddings. One with all the guests because they’d already sent out the invitations, and the other with intimate family members later at the church close to the nursing home, in the hopes that Lilian would at least recognize them then and give her blessing.
Lilian refused to recognize Kale and Camilla | Photo: Pexels
It was already 4 in the morning and Kale couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. His wedding was just hours away so he closed the photo album, closed his eyes, and managed to force himself to sleep until the sound of the doorbell woke him.
He got up, rubbed his eyes, and slowly walked towards the door. It was seven in the morning and a delivery boy stood outside with a package from his mother’s nursing home. Kale unwrapped the present quickly and discovered a nice suit inside.
Did mom send this to me? Did she finally remember that it is my wedding day? Kale leaped to his feet in delight and dashed over to the mirror to try on the suit. However, as he was putting on the jacket, he noticed a strange bulge in his pocket. He reached into the coat pocket and found a letter inside. “Please open it before your wedding,” it read on the top. Kale recognized his mother’s handwriting and immediately opened the letter and began reading.
Kale discovered a letter in his suit pocket | Photo: Unsplash
“Dear Kale,” it began. “I’m glad you’ve found someone you love, but let me warn you…Moving forward with the idea of marriage is not going to be easy for you. That’s why I’m writing this letter to you before it’s too late.”
“First of all, have a wonderful wedding, son. I came across your wedding invitation today. Thanks for leaving it with the nurse. I really want to see you get married, irrespective of whether I’ll be able to recognize you or not. The nurse here thinks it’s a miracle that I remembered you when I saw the wedding invite. I wish this miracle could last a little longer so that I could remember everything.
“But in any case, please remember that I’m always there with you. Please love your wife and take good care of her. Marriage is a sacred relationship, but it’s not a bed of roses. There’ll be ups and downs, but in a relationship, the heart for understanding each other is the most important.
“Also, keep in mind, son, that you now hold not just a wife and a beloved woman, but the most valuable treasure. So try and help her; she is a fragile woman who may appear strong from the outside, but just like everyone else, even she needs support. And please, don’t quarrel over petty things such as money. Money is not more important than love and relationships.
“Love your wife, try to understand her, and admire her. When she looks at you with love in her eyes, look at her with the same feeling. Every quarrel, like every hurtful word, has the potential to pierce the heart. Don’t let that come in between you two and destroy your family. Do not pursue other women; you have made a decision to pursue her, so don’t look back and be the man of her dreams. I hope you’d be as wonderful a husband as you are a son. With love, Mom.”
Lilian attended Kale’s wedding | Photo: Shutterstock
Kale’s eyes welled up as he finished reading the letter. He quickly got ready and went to the nursing home to meet his mother. Unfortunately, Lilian didn’t recognize him, but he decided to bring her to the wedding as she’d desired.
He went out and bought her a lovely gown and asked the nurse to get her ready. Lilian arrived at the wedding venue in a wheelchair, completely unaware of her surroundings, but tears welled up in her eyes when she heard her son say, “I do!” Perhaps, just for a moment, she did recognize her son and his future wife.
What can we learn from this story?
- Love and respect your parents. Kale loved his mother and never left her alone, despite her condition. All of us should try to be like that.
- Miracles do happen. Lilian had almost forgotten about his son, but she remembered him one day and wrote him a touching letter.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a store clerk who kicks out a poor little boy who wanted to buy a doll for his dying mom.
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