I Was Upset That My Grandfather Only Left Me an Old Apiary until I Looked into the Beehives — Story of the Day

My Grandpa, the man who spun tales of buried treasure and promised me the millions. But when his time came, lawyer called me.

“Your grandfather wanted to divide evenly his money between your siblings. But he wanted you to know – he loved you the most, Robyn. That’s why you’ll get his apiary”. – he said.

That was the biggest letdown: a dusty, old apiary. Who leaves their grandchild an insect-infested shack? This cruel joke of an inheritance was a slap in the face until the day I peered into the beehives.

It all started with a regular morning. Aunt Daphne peered over her glasses at the mess on my bed. “Robyn, have you packed your bag yet?”

“I’m texting Chloe,” I groaned, hiding my phone.

“It’s almost bus time! Get ready!” Aunt Daphne said, stuffing books into my bag.

I saw the time. 7:58 A.M. “Ugh, fine,” I sighed, getting up from the bed.

She held out a shirt for me, ironed and ready. “This isn’t what your Grandpa hoped for you, you know. He believed you’d be strong, independent. And those beehives he left? They’re not going to tend to themselves.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

I recalled the times with Grandpa, the honey, the bees. But now, my mind was on the upcoming school dance and my crush, Scott.

“I’ll check them, maybe tomorrow,” I said, fixing my hair.

“Tomorrow never comes for you. Grandpa believed in you, Robyn. He wanted you to take care of the apiary,” she insisted.

“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I said sharply. “I’ve got better things to do than take care of Grandpa’s bees!”

I saw Aunt Daphne’s face fall and tears spring in her eyes. But the school bus honked right then, and I rushed out, ignoring her sad expression.

On the bus, my thoughts were focused on Scott, not the apiary I inherited from Grandpa Archie. “Who wants an apiary?” I thought, annoyed at the responsibility.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

But the next day, Aunt Daphne brought it up again. She scolded me for neglecting chores and spending too much time on my phone.

“You’re grounded, young lady!” she declared suddenly, and it was then I finally looked up from my phone.

“Grounded? For what?” I protested.

“For shirking responsibility,” she replied, mentioning the neglected apiary.

“The apiary? That useless bee farm?” I scoffed.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“It’s about responsibility, Robyn. It’s what Grandpa wanted for you,” Aunt Daphne said, her voice strained with emotion.

“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I protested, “I’m scared of getting stung!”

“You’ll be wearing protective gear,” she countered. “A little fear is normal, but you can’t let it stop you.”

Reluctantly, I headed to the apiary. As I approached the hive, I was both scared and curious. Donning heavy gloves, I opened the hive and began harvesting honey, my heart pounding.

Suddenly, a bee stung my glove. I nearly gave up, but a surge of determination hit me. I had to finish this. I had to prove to Aunt Daphne that I wasn’t the reckless, irresponsible 14-year-old she thought I was.

While harvesting honey, I discovered a weather-beaten plastic bag inside the hive containing a faded map with strange markings. It seemed like a treasure map left by Grandpa Archie.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Excited, I tucked the map into my pocket and pedaled home. Leaving the half-filled jar of honey on the kitchen counter, I sneaked out and followed the map into the woods.

Navigating the familiar woods, I remembered Grandpa’s stories and laughed about his encounters.

As I stepped into a clearing that seemed to leap straight out of Grandpa’s stories, I couldn’t help but shiver. This was the exact place he’d talk about the legendary White Walker of the forest, making my imagination run wild as a kid.

And there it was, just like in his tales – the old gamekeeper’s house, looking forgotten by time with its chipped paint and sagging porch. “Grandpa used to sit us down here, munching on sandwiches and pie after collecting honey, and weave his incredible stories,” I thought, a bittersweet nostalgia washing over me.

Touching the ancient dwarf tree near the porch, I could almost hear Grandpa’s playful warning, “Watch out, kiddo. Let’s not disturb the grouchy little gnomes,” as if we were back in those carefree afternoons.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

I found the hidden old key and unlocked the cabin, stepping into a world that time had forgotten. The air was heavy with a musty smell, and specks of dust glimmered in the stray beams of sunlight.

There, catching my eye, was a beautifully carved metal box on a dusty table. Inside was a note from Grandpa, just for me:

“To my dear Robyn, inside this box is a special treasure for you, but it’s not to be opened until your journey’s true end. You’ll know when the time is right. All my love, Grandpa.”

I was dying to see what was inside, but Grandpa’s last instruction echoed in my head, “Only at the end of your journey.”

I couldn’t just ignore his last wish.

I continued my journey through the forest, but after a while, I felt like I was lost.

“This map is no good,” I realized, not being able to spot a way out of the woods. I didn’t know when I started crying.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

But then, I remembered something important. “Grandpa always said to stay calm,” I told myself. “I can’t give up.”

Then, I heard a sound like a small branch breaking far off, and it made me think of scary stories from when I was little. “Maybe Aunt Daphne was right to warn me,” I thought, looking around at the huge forest. But thinking of Grandpa’s advice made me brave enough to keep going, guiding me through the enveloping wilderness.

I took a big, nervous breath and tried to think clearly. Going back seemed like a good idea, but it would be hard to see clearly in the forest when it got dark. There was a bridge, the one Grandpa always talked about… that might help, I thought.

Wiping away a tear, I straightened my backpack. “Okay, Robyn,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s find that bridge.”

But that confidence didn’t last long. The sun was setting, making the woods menacing. Exhausted, I slumped under a tree, longing for Aunt Daphne’s cozy kitchen.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

My backpack offered no comfort, just reminders of my unpreparedness. Desperately searching for food, I found nothing but stale cracker crumbs. “Focus, Robyn. Find the bridge. Find water,” I urged myself, ignoring the hunger.

Then, remembering Grandpa’s advice again, I used heal-all leaves for my wounds and pushed on, driven by the sound of rushing water. But the river wasn’t the gentle stream I remembered; it was a dangerous, fast-moving torrent.

Ignoring the treacherous path, I scrambled down the rocky bank, driven by a desperate thirst. Reaching the water’s edge, I knelt, cupping my hands to scoop up the cool liquid. It tasted faintly metallic, but it was life-giving nectar at that moment.

As I rose, the precarious footing betrayed me. Slipping, I tumbled into the icy current, screaming for help. My backpack dragged me down. “Grandpa,” I whispered helplessly. Thinking of him, a sliver of clarity cut through the panic. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He’d taught me to fight, to be brave.

I decided to ditch the backpack but kept Grandpa’s metal box. Fighting the current, I struggled towards the shore, refusing to give up.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

My fingers brushed a solid log, a lifeline in the churning chaos. I clung to it with every ounce of strength, the current tossing me like a ragdoll. Then, with a final shove, it deposited me, sputtering and bruised, onto the muddy bank.

I peeled off my soaking clothes and hung them up on a tree to dry. My eyes then fell on a metal box that might help me find my way back.

Grandpa had told me to wait until the end of my journey to open it, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Inside, I found no treasure, just a jar of honey and a photo of us together. It hit me then—this journey and the real treasure was about the value of hard work, just like Grandpa always said.

Tears welled up as I thought about how I’d ignored all the wisdom Grandpa had shared with me. I’d been chasing adventures, forgetting the important things he’d tried to teach me.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

Wiping my snotty nose, I told myself it was time to get moving, to make Grandpa proud. I started building a shelter from branches and leaves under a big oak tree. It was rough, but it was enough for the night.

The next morning, the bright sun woke me up. I pushed through the woods, holding onto that metal box like a lifeline, thinking about Grandpa.

Remembering the times we went fishing together warmed me up a bit. “Slow and steady,” I could almost hear him say. I even started humming one of his favorite tunes, feeling like he was right there with me.

When I saw a bridge in the distance, hope bubbled up inside me. With Grandpa’s lessons in my heart, I wasn’t alone. But then, the forest turned into a confusing maze, and I started to panic. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I stumbled into a clearing and collapsed, totally exhausted.

That’s when a dog found me, and I heard a chorus of muffled voices: “There she is!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

Waking up in a hospital bed, I saw Aunt Daphne by my side. “I’m sorry,” I managed, overwhelmed by regret. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Daphne.”

“Hush, dear. You’re safe now,” she said softly.

“I messed up,” I cried out. “Grandpa was right about everything!”

Aunt Daphne held my hand and smiled. “He always loved you, sweetie. Even when you were mad at him, even when you didn’t get why. Remember how upset you were about not getting that smartwatch just weeks before he passed?”

“I never appreciated him or anything he did for me. He was always there for me. Grandpa was both my Mom and Dad after their passing. But I—”

“He knew you’d come around, sweetie. He always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

At that point, she reached into a bag beside her chair, pulling out a brightly colored box. My breath hitched as I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper: the same kind Grandpa always used for gifts.

“This is for you,” Aunt Daphne said gently, placing the box on my lap. The Xbox I wanted.

“Grandpa wanted you to have this,” Aunt Daphne continued. “He said when you learned the value of hard work and understood the importance of patience and perseverance, it would be yours.”

“I’ll be good, Aunt Daphne,” I promised. “I don’t need this anymore. I have learned my lesson.”

Aunt Daphne’s smile, this time brighter and filled with genuine joy, was all the reassurance I needed. Reaching to the bedside, I pulled out the small honey jar.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Would you like some honey, Aunt Daphne?” I asked, offering the sticky jar.

Taking the jar, she dipped a finger in and tasted the honey. “It’s sweet,” she said, her voice soft. “Just like you, Robyn. Just like you!”

Years have flown by since then. Now, at 28, a million miles from that grumbling teenager to a bee boss with two little terrors of my own (who thankfully love honey!), I learned a thing or two about responsibility.

Thanks, Grandpa! Thank you for everything you taught me! I whisper every single time I see the happiness on my kids’ faces when they enjoy honey.

That delicious honey is a reminder of the beautiful bond Grandpa and I shared.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

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.

I Came Home with My Newborn Twins to Find the Locks Changed, My Stuff Thrown Out, and a Note Waiting for Me

After giving birth to my first children, I thought my husband would start choosing us more over his mother, but that wasn’t the case. This time, he’d chosen her side over me for the last time, so I exposed her for the bully and liar she was.

You’d think bringing home your newborn twins would be one of the happiest moments of your life. For me, it started like that, but it soon turned into an absolute nightmare!

An upset mother with her newborn babies | Source: Midjourney

An upset mother with her newborn babies | Source: Midjourney

After three days in the hospital, recovering from a grueling delivery, I was finally discharged and ready to head home with my beautiful twin daughters, Ella and Sophie. I’d imagined this moment for months: Derek, my husband, picking us up at the hospital with flowers, tears of joy in his eyes as he took one of the girls into his arms.

But instead, at the last minute, I got a hurried phone call that changed everything…

An upset woman on a call | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman on a call | Source: Midjourney

“Hey, baby,” my husband said, his voice clipped. “I am so sorry, but I can’t come pick you guys up as planned.”

“What?” I asked, adjusting the swaddle around Sophie. “Derek, I just had twins. What’s so important that you can’t—”

“It’s my mom,” he interrupted. “She’s in bad shape. Hectic chest pains. I need to pick her up and take her to that hospital close to her.”

His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. “What? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Derek, I need you here.”

“I know,” he said, exasperated. “But this happened suddenly, and it’s serious. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

An anxious man on a call | Source: Midjourney

An anxious man on a call | Source: Midjourney

I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to scream because of how disappointed and frustrated I felt, but I replied, “Fine. I’ll just get a taxi.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled before hanging up.

My husband’s mother lived in a different city, so the chances of him getting back that same day to get me and the babies were unrealistic. Knowing how obsessed Derek was with his mother, he wasn’t going to leave her by herself, hence the taxi.

An upset woman on a call | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman on a call | Source: Midjourney

As the line went dead, my heart sank. I wanted to believe Derek wasn’t being callous, just overwhelmed and a mama’s boy. Still, the disappointment stung. The same mother-in-law (MIL) who insisted we make a separate set of keys to our house so she could help me with the babies was now suddenly unwell.

I tried shaking it off as I bundled the girls into their car seats that their father had dropped off the previous day and got us into a cab.

A woman in a cab with her children | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a cab with her children | Source: Midjourney

When we pulled into the driveway, I froze. My suitcases, diaper bags, and even the crib mattress were scattered across the front lawn and by the doorstep! A knot formed in my stomach. I paid the driver and stepped out with the twins, glancing around nervously. Something was obviously very wrong…

A messy front yard | Source: Midjourney

A messy front yard | Source: Midjourney

I approached the front door, fumbling with my keys while absentmindedly calling out my husband’s name, even though I knew he couldn’t be home yet. The key wouldn’t turn. Confused, I tried again. Nothing. Then I saw it, a folded piece of paper taped to a suitcase.

Get out of here with your little moochers! I know everything. Derek.

My breath caught, and my heart stopped. My hands trembled as I read the note again and again, trying to make sense of it while hoping it was a hallucination. This couldn’t be happening. Not Derek…

A shocked woman reading a note | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman reading a note | Source: Midjourney

Not the man who held my hand through every doctor’s appointment, who cried when we heard our daughters’ heartbeats for the first time. Then the worst part of that day began…

Wanting answers, I called him immediately. Straight to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Panic set in as Sophie’s cries joined Ella’s. I rocked their car seats, forcing myself to think.

A stressed woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney

A stressed woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney

“Mom,” I whispered. My hands shook as I dialed her number.

“Jenna?” Mom answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong? Are the twins okay?”

I choked out the words, barely able to hold it together. I hadn’t wanted to involve my mother due to her ailing condition, but I believed this was one of those dire moments.

“Derek… He changed the locks. He threw my stuff outside. Mom, he left this awful note.”

“WHAT?!” Her voice shot up. “Stay there. I’m coming.”

An upset older woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset older woman | Source: Midjourney

Minutes felt like hours before she arrived. Mom took one look at the mess and narrowed her eyes, fuming.

“This doesn’t make sense! Derek wouldn’t do this; he loves you and the girls!”

“That’s what I thought,” I said, rocking Ella to calm her cries. “But he’s not answering. And what does ‘I know everything’ even mean?” I asked showing her the offensive note.

“I am so sorry, my darling,” she said while hugging me close. “Let’s go to my place until we can get a hold of your husband, okay?”

An older woman hugging a younger one | Source: Midjourney

An older woman hugging a younger one | Source: Midjourney

She helped me load the bags into her car and whisked us back to her place. After my mother and I dissected what had happened and repeatedly called Derek with no answer, my anxiety spiked. That night, I barely slept.

The next morning, I decided I needed answers. Leaving the twins with Mom, I drove back in her car to the house. The yard was empty, my belongings gone. I knocked on the door. No response. I walked around to the back, peering through the windows, and froze.

A shocked woman peaking through a window | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman peaking through a window | Source: Midjourney

Derek’s mother, Lorraine, sat at the dining table, sipping tea! I banged on the door, and she looked up, startled, almost spilling her tea before she saw me and smirked.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, banging on the door.

Lorraine rose leisurely and opened it just a crack. “Jenna. You’re not welcome here, didn’t you see the note?”

“Where’s Derek?” I snapped. “Why did he—”

“He’s at the hospital in my city,” she said smoothly. “Taking care of his sick mother.”

A nonchalant older woman standing by a door | Source: Midjourney

A nonchalant older woman standing by a door | Source: Midjourney

I stared at her, disbelief washing over me. “Sick? You’re standing right here!”

She shrugged, her lips curling into a malicious smile. “Maybe I’m feeling better. Miracles happen.”

“You lied to him, didn’t you? You faked being sick!”

Her smile widened. “And?”

My hands balled into fists. “Why? Why would you do this?”

She crossed her arms, her smugness growing.

A smug older woman | Source: Midjourney

A smug older woman | Source: Midjourney

“I told Derek from the start that our family needs a boy to carry on the name. But you? You gave us two girls. Useless,” she confessed unapologetically, finally speaking her truth after all these years I’ve been with her son.

Her words knocked the air out of me. I was too stunned to speak, and she took my silence as permission to keep going.

“I knew you’d ruin my son’s life, so I took matters into my own hands. The note was a bit much, but I needed you to believe he wanted you gone. I even ensured he couldn’t call you by taking his phone right out of his pocket when he wasn’t looking. You were supposed to take your things and get out of our lives, but here you are…”

An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney

An angry older woman | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t breathe. This woman had orchestrated everything, lied to her son, and got him to take her to the hospital under false pretenses before sneaking away, locked me out of my home, and stole his phone all because she disapproved of my daughters!

“You threw us out over that?”

“Of course,” she said, unbothered. “I even bribed a nurse at the hospital to keep him there. And it worked, didn’t it?”

I felt sick. “You’re deranged!”

“Call me what you want,” she sneered. “I call it protecting my family. Besides, my Derek always takes my side and will see things my way as usual.”

An arrogant older woman | Source: Midjourney

An arrogant older woman | Source: Midjourney

Her words echoed in my mind as I drove to the hospital where my husband was still waiting. With every mile, my anger grew. How could she justify such cruelty? My hands gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles white with fury.

I knew my MIL was mean, but I didn’t think she was evil! She never approved of my relationship or marriage to her son, always believing Derek deserved someone wealthier and fancier, unlike me.

An upset woman driving | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman driving | Source: Midjourney

When I reached the hospital, I found my husband pacing in the waiting room, his eyes shadowed with worry.

“Jenna!” he said, rushing toward me. “Where have you been? I don’t have my phone or know your number by heart, so I couldn’t call you!”

“Your mother took your phone,” I cut him off. “She faked her illness and locked me out of the house!”

He froze, confusion and anger flashing across his face. “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

A man at a hospital | Source: Midjourney

A man at a hospital | Source: Midjourney

“She set me up, wrote a fake note from you sending me away, and bribed a nurse to lie to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “Lorraine’s at our house, sipping tea like she’s the queen of the world!”

“Wait. What? Why would she…”

“Because our daughters aren’t boys,” I said bitterly.

The shock turned to rage on his face. Without saying a word, he grabbed his keys and stormed out, with me following close behind. When we got home, Lorraine was exactly where I’d left her, looking utterly unbothered.

An older woman having tea | Source: Midjourney

An older woman having tea | Source: Midjourney

But her smugness vanished when she saw the determined look on Derek’s face.

“Mom,” he said, his voice cold and sharp. “What did you do? I thought you were in the hospital?”

She opened her mouth, likely to lie, but Derek cut her off. “Save it. I know everything.”

“Derek, I was just trying to—”

“You’ve done enough,” he snapped. “You made me abandon my wife and children for a fake emergency! Then you locked my wife, who just gave birth, and our newborn babies out of our home! On top of that, you cut our ability to communicate during such a crucial time by stealing my phone!”

An angry man shouting | Source: Midjourney

An angry man shouting | Source: Midjourney

“Derek, darling… I just wanted to keep you safe. This isn’t how this was supposed to go,” my MIL replied pleadingly.

“Keep me safe from my wife and children? Who told you I wanted boys? What makes you think my girls aren’t good enough for me just because of their gender? That’s a problem you have, not me, and if you want sons, I suggest you go make them yourself!”

I stood with my mouth agape, having never seen Derek this angry! I won’t lie, a part of me was proud that he was proving himself worthy of me by defending my and the children’s honor. At that moment, I loved him more than ever before!

A happy woman | Source: Midjourney

A happy woman | Source: Midjourney

“Pack your things and leave,” he demanded.

She gaped at him, tears forming. “You can’t mean that. I’m your mother!”

“And Jenna is my WIFE! Those are my daughters! If you can’t respect them, you’re not part of our lives!”

For once, Lorraine was speechless. She stormed upstairs to pack, slamming doors as she went. Derek turned to me, his eyes full of remorse.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t know.”

I let out a shaky breath, the tension easing just a little. “I just want us to move forward.”

A happy woman with her man | Source: Midjourney

A happy woman with her man | Source: Midjourney

Lorraine left that night. My husband apologized repeatedly, vowing to make things right. And he did. He changed the locks, blocked his mother’s number, and even reported the nurse who had taken the bribe!

It wasn’t easy, but for months we worked on rebuilding our life. One evening, as I rocked Ella and Sophie to sleep, I realized Lorraine had tried to destroy us but only managed to bring us closer together.

A happy couple with their twins | Source: Midjourney

A happy couple with their twins | Source: Midjourney

Sadly, Jenna isn’t the only daughter-in-law who has had to face a difficult MIL. In the following story, Michelle’s MIL surprises her and her husband with a DNA test for their son thinking it would finally break them up. But things didn’t play out in her favor, the way she imagined.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*