Two days before my wedding, my fiancé Robert dropped a bombshell—he had to leave for a sudden trip. Something felt off, and when a call from his boss didn’t add up, I followed him. What I uncovered wasn’t what I expected, leaving me questioning trust, love, and the man I was about to marry.
When I turned thirty, I couldn’t help but feel a growing fear that I might never get married. I worried that love had passed me by. But here I was—just two days away from becoming a wife.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It felt like a dream. I was about to start a new chapter with Robert, the man who had stolen my heart and shown me what love could truly be. Robert was everything I’d ever wanted: smart, sweet, and endlessly kind.
Even when I was upset, he could make me laugh with his silly jokes or warm smile. I felt complete.
But that joy wavered the moment Robert walked into the bedroom. His uneasy expression stopped me cold. Something was wrong.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What’s wrong?” I asked as soon as I noticed his troubled expression.
Robert hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Katherine, I’m so sorry, but I have to go on a work trip.”
“What?” I said, my brow furrowing. “But our wedding is in two days.”
“I know,” he said, his voice soft. “I promise I’ll be back in time. Maybe even the night before the wedding.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Are you serious right now? You’re leaving me alone at a time like this?” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it.
Robert sighed and stepped closer. “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important. Everything is already planned, so nothing should go wrong. I’m sorry it’s happening this way, but I really have to go.”
“But why?” I asked, feeling the heat rising in my face. Words failed me as I tried to keep my emotions in check.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Robert pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly. “I hate doing this to you, but we have our whole lives ahead of us. I’ll always be there for you, Katherine.”
“Who’s going with you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“Travis. That’s why it’s so important,” he said. I knew Travis was his boss, and I understood. Still, I wanted to scream like a child. But I swallowed it. I was an adult, after all.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Fine,” I said after a long pause. “But think about how you’re going to make this up to me while you’re gone.”
Robert chuckled softly, his lips brushing my forehead. “Alright,” he said. Then, he turned and began packing.
Robert moved quickly, folding clothes and placing them into his bag. I stayed on the bed, watching him silently, hoping he’d change his mind. Each item he packed felt like a step farther from me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My eyes wandered to the edge of the bed where his plane tickets sat. The destination caught my attention.
I didn’t think his company worked in that city. Maybe they were expanding, I thought, trying to convince myself it made sense.
When he finished, I walked him to the door. He hugged me tightly, kissed me goodbye, and left. Minutes later, my phone buzzed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Seeing Travis’s name made my heart jump. Why was he calling? Had something happened to Robert?
“Hello? Is everything alright?” I asked, my voice trembling as I clutched the phone.
“Everything’s fine,” Travis said calmly. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make it to your wedding. I’ll be out of town on a business trip. But I’d still like to send you and Robert a gift. How can I get it to you?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My stomach tightened. “Wait, Robert will be back by the wedding, right?” I asked, feeling a knot of confusion.
“Katherine, I’m not sure what you mean,” Travis said, sounding puzzled. “I would never send Robert on a trip this close to his wedding. Did he say I did?”
I froze, struggling to think of a response. “Oh, no. I must have misunderstood,” I said quickly. “I’ll let you know about the gift.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Okay,” Travis said, his tone uncertain. “Let me know if you need anything.” Then he hung up.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my bag, my wallet, and my coat, leaving behind everything else. My mind raced as I drove to the airport.
Robert had lied to me. I didn’t know why, but I needed answers. The uncertainty was unbearable.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My hands trembled as I booked a ticket for his flight. Luckily, there were still seats available.
At security, I fumbled to pull off my shoes and jacket, feeling like everyone was staring at me.
Once through, I tucked my hair into a hood and put on sunglasses. I scanned the waiting area, and then I saw him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Robert sat near the gate, his head down, staring at his phone. I positioned myself far enough away to stay unnoticed but close enough to follow.
When the flight was called, I let him board first. My heart pounded as I followed him onto the plane, keeping my distance.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I had to know the truth. The flight felt endless. Every time Robert shifted in his seat, I wondered what he was thinking.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
When we landed, I spotted him again and followed him outside. He hailed a taxi, so I did the same.
“Follow that car, but keep your distance,” I told my driver, who gave me a curious glance but nodded. My pulse quickened as we drove.
The car stopped in front of a small house in a quiet neighborhood. I asked my driver to pull over a few houses away and paid him quickly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Hiding behind a tree, I watched as Robert got out of the taxi. He hesitated at the door, then knocked.
I held my breath, watching closely. After a moment, the door opened, and someone stepped forward.
From my position behind the tree, I couldn’t see who it was, but their silhouette made my chest tighten. Then, to my disbelief, Robert stepped inside.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I stood there for a moment, frozen. Summoning my courage, I crept closer to the house.
My hands shook as I peeked through a nearby window, my breath fogging the glass. What I saw made my knees buckle.
Robert was inside, sitting with a woman I didn’t recognize. He leaned in and hugged her, the way he always hugged me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tears blurred my vision, streaming down my face as my heart shattered into pieces. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, frozen and trembling. The sound of the front door opening snapped me back to reality.
Panicked, I ducked into the bushes, crouching low to stay hidden. From my hiding spot, I watched Robert step outside, his expression unreadable. He climbed into another taxi and left without looking back.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Gathering every bit of courage I had, I stepped out of my hiding spot and approached the door. My legs felt shaky, and my chest was tight as I raised my hand to knock.
After a few moments, the same woman I had seen earlier opened the door. She looked at me with concern, her gaze softening when she noticed the tears streaming down my face.
“Are you alright? How can I help you?” she asked gently, her voice calm.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed hard, my words barely forming. “I’m Robert’s fiancée,” I said, my voice trembling. “In two days, I’m supposed to be his wife.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh,” she said, her hand moving to the doorframe as if to steady herself. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, motioning for me to enter.
She led me into the kitchen, where she pulled out a chair for me and handed me a glass of water.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I sipped it slowly, my hands trembling. She sat across from me, her expression still kind but cautious.
“I know how this must look,” she said after a moment of silence. “But I promise, it’s not what you think. My name is Liz. I’m Robert’s first love.”
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. “That doesn’t make it better,” I said, gripping the glass tightly. My thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and confusion.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Liz sighed and leaned forward, her tone steady. “He didn’t cheat on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. When Robert was younger…he wasn’t the same man you know now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
“Our relationship wasn’t healthy,” Liz said simply. “There were things he needed to fix in himself. He came here to apologize.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Apologize? Why now? Why before our wedding?” I asked, my chest tightening again.
“Because he didn’t want to carry the weight of his mistakes into his future with you,” Liz said. “He told me he loves you deeply. He wanted to make peace with his past so it wouldn’t affect your life together.”
I shook my head, my voice shaking. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why lie?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Liz gave me a small, understanding smile. “We all have things we carry. Some we share, and some we don’t. I’m happily married now, with two kids. Robert talked about you like you’re his whole world. You’ll make each other happy. We were never meant to be happy together, but you and Robert will be.”
I nodded slowly, unsure of how to feel. Liz offered to let me stay until my flight.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Meeting her family, I saw the love in her eyes for her husband. It reminded me of how I felt about Robert. Slowly, I began to calm.
I arrived home just as the first light of dawn was breaking. Robert was waiting by the door, his face full of worry. The moment he saw me, he pulled me into a tight hug.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Katherine, where were you?” he asked, his voice tense. “I was so worried. I called you so many times, and you didn’t answer. I thought something had happened.”
I hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “It’s not… I don’t know what to say,” I finally admitted.
Robert stepped back slightly, his hands still on my shoulders. “Then let me start. I lied to you,” he said. “I wasn’t on a work trip—”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I know,” I interrupted, looking into his eyes.
He nodded, his face filled with regret. “I’m sorry for lying. I should’ve told you, but I swear I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry too.”
Robert frowned. “Why are you apologizing?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Because I doubted you,” I said, my voice trembling. “I followed you after Travis called and told me you weren’t with him. I went to Liz’s house. I talked to her. She explained everything.”
Robert’s face softened. “Katherine, I love you,” he said. “Only you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
I felt a weight lift from my chest. “I know. Now I’m sure of it,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him.
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: At nine months pregnant, I thought bending over to clean would be the hardest part of my life. But my husband’s distance and a shocking discovery in his closet made me question everything. When I uncovered strange bills and a truth he’d been hiding, I knew I had to face what was tearing us apart.
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.
Cleaner Stepped Into a Stranger’s Home — Then a Stack of Birthday Cards Revealed a Heartbreaking Secret
When Claire agrees to clean a reclusive woman’s neglected home, she expects dirt and clutter — but not the eerie feeling of a house frozen in time. As she sorts through the piled-up mess, she finds a stack of birthday cards that leads her to a heartbreaking revelation.
My phone buzzed as I packed my cleaning caddy. Another day, another home that needed cleaning.
A cell phone in someone’s back pocket | Source: Pexels
“Clean Slate Services, this is Claire,” I answered, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I checked my supply of microfiber cloths.
“Hello?” The voice was elderly and tentative. “My name is Margaret. My daughter suggested I contact you. She said you post videos online about helping people clean their homes?”
I smiled, thinking of the before-and-after videos that had become surprisingly popular.
A woman in a store room speaking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
My small cleaning business may not have been setting the world on fire, but scrubbing suburban floors and dusting small offices served a greater purpose. Those jobs allowed me to offer free cleaning services to people in need.
“That’s me,” I replied to Margaret. “How can I help?”
“It’s not for me.” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “It’s my neighbor, Eleanor. She needs help. She won’t ask for it, but she needs it.”
Something in her tone made me stop what I was doing.
A concerned woman speaking on her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
I’d heard this kind of concern before — the worry that comes when someone watches another person slowly disappear.
“Tell me about Eleanor,” I said, sitting down on a nearby stool.
Margaret sighed. “Her yard is completely overgrown now. There are newspapers piling up on her porch that she never brings in. I tried checking on her last week and she barely opened the door, but when she did…” Margaret paused. “There was a bad smell. And what I could see behind her… it wasn’t good.”
A woman using her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
My stomach tightened. I knew what that meant.
“It wasn’t always like this,” Margaret continued. “She used to be out in her garden all the time. Her roses won ribbons at the county fair. Then, one day… she just stopped. She’s a good person, Claire. I just… something’s terribly wrong.”
I hesitated for only a moment. These calls never came at convenient times, but that was the nature of crises.
A worried-looking woman in a supply room | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll be there in an hour,” I promised. “What’s the address?”
After hanging up, I texted Ryan, my husband and business partner: Emergency clean-up. Not sure how bad yet. May need backup.
His response came immediately: On standby. Let me know.
I grabbed my “first assessment” kit — gloves, mask, basic cleaning supplies, and a change of clothes. Experience had taught me to always be prepared for the worst.
A variety of cleaning supplies | Source: Pexels
Eleanor’s house was a modest one-story with faded blue siding. The lawn had transformed into a meadow and dead flowers hung in forgotten window boxes. The mailbox listed to one side, stuffed with envelopes.
I knocked and waited. Nothing. I knocked again, louder.
Finally, I heard shuffling footsteps. The door opened just an inch, revealing a sliver of a woman’s face.
A woman peeking through a slightly open door | Source: Midjourney
She was pale, with unkempt hair and tired eyes that widened at the sight of my company polo shirt.
“I don’t need a cleaning service,” she muttered, already starting to close the door.
“I’m not here to sell anything,” I said quickly, keeping my tone gentle. “Margaret asked me to come. She’s worried about you. She thought you might need help.”
Eleanor’s jaw set in a hard line. “I can handle it myself.”
A woman speaking harshly | Source: Midjourney
I took a slow breath. I recognized this tone. This kind of resistance was not pride, but shame. It was the same way my mother used to react when concerned neighbors or teachers would ask about the piles of boxes filling our house.
“My mom used to say the same thing. ‘I can handle it.’ But sometimes, handling it means letting someone help,” I said softly. “I know what it’s like, Eleanor, how it all builds up. That’s why I started my cleaning business, so I could clean homes for free for people who need a fresh start.”
A woman on a porch speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
“A fresh start…” Eleanor sighed the words as though she barely dared to believe them.
For the first time, her eyes flicked up to meet mine. Something flickered there — hope, maybe. Or simply exhaustion. There was a long pause where I could almost see her weighing her options. Then her face crumpled.
“I don’t even know where to start,” she whispered.
A woman whispering sadly | Source: Midjourney
“You don’t have to,” I assured her. “That’s why I’m here. Maybe you could spend the day with Margaret while I work? It might be easier that way.”
Eleanor hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. Finally, she nodded. “Let me get my purse.”
She disappeared behind the door for a moment. When she emerged, she was wearing a cardigan that had seen better days and carrying a worn leather handbag. I noticed how she kept her eyes down, avoiding looking at her front yard.
Withered plants near a fence in a neglected yard | Source: Pexels
We walked together to Margaret’s house next door. Eleanor moved cautiously, like each step required calculation. Her shoulders hunched forward slightly, as if she was carrying something heavy.
Margaret answered her door with surprise that quickly melted into joy.
“Eleanor! Oh, it’s so good to see you out,” she exclaimed. “Come in, come in. I just made a fresh pot of tea.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Eleanor managed a small smile as she stepped inside. “Thank you, Margaret.”
Margaret caught my eye over Eleanor’s shoulder and mouthed a silent “thank you.” I nodded and headed back to Eleanor’s house, already pulling out my phone.
“Ryan? I need you to bring the industrial garbage bags. And maybe a respirator.”
A concerned woman on a phone call | Source: Midjourney
Ryan arrived 30 minutes later, a box of our heavy-duty cleaning supplies in his arms. He took one look inside the house and exhaled sharply.
“She’s been living like this?” he asked, his voice muffled by the mask he’d already put on.
I nodded. “For years, I’d guess.”
The house wasn’t packed floor to ceiling with junk, but it was suffocating. Dishes with dried food crusted onto them formed precarious towers in the sink. Mold crept along the baseboards.
Dirty dishes in a sink | Source: Pexels
The air was stagnant, heavy with the smell of neglect.
I pulled on my gloves and mask. “Focus on bagging up the obvious trash in the living room and kitchen, please — rotting takeout containers, empty packaging, bottles. I’ll start in the bedrooms.”
Ryan nodded, already opening a trash bag. “Got it. I’ll leave the sorting to you.”
I moved carefully across the living room, noting the layer of dust on the television screen.
A dirty and untidy living room | Source: Midjourney
The master bedroom was in similar disarray. There were clothes piled on chairs and a bed that hadn’t been made in what looked like months. Prescription bottles for anti-depressants and sleep aids were nestled among the junk on the nightstand.
The labels were all for Eleanor. Anti-depressants. Sleep aids. Another familiar sign.
But it was the second bedroom that stopped me cold.
A bedroom door | Source: Pexels
I pushed open the door and immediately felt like I’d stepped into a different house.
Dust floated in the air, catching in the slant of light from a single, grime-streaked window. Cobwebs dangled everywhere, like drapes. The lack of trash in here made it feel abandoned in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
A twin bed sat against one wall, covered with dust. A model solar system hung from the ceiling, also brown with dust, the planets tilting at odd angles from years of stillness.
A model solar system hanging from a ceiling | Source: Midjourney
A dresser stood against the far wall. Inside, I found children’s clothes, neatly folded. T-shirts small enough for a nine or ten-year-old. Superhero pajamas. School uniforms.
I exhaled slowly. This room wasn’t a storage space. It was a memorial.
I carefully closed the drawer and left the room exactly as I’d found it. I’d dust it later, but for now, there were bigger problems.
A woman in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
As I cleaned the house, I unearthed framed photographs on a dusty bookshelf. A young boy with dark curls grinned at the camera. In another, the same boy sat on a man’s shoulders, both of them laughing.
But as I found more photos, something gnawed at me. There were no pictures of the boy past the age of ten, or so. All the clothes I’d found earlier were for a child around that age.
In the master bedroom, I found a small stack of birthday cards addressed to “Michael” tucked inside a nightstand drawer.
Trash and junk on a nightstand | Source: Gemini
There were cards for every birthday from his first to his 13th. The text in the 13th birthday card was shaky, mostly illegible handwriting. All I could make out was “…would’ve been 13 today.”
Would’ve been? A heavy feeling settled over my heart as I began putting the pieces together. There was always a reason people lost control over the state of their homes, and I suspected this child was part of Eleanor’s reason.
By early afternoon, Ryan and I had made considerable progress. We’d cleared most of the floors and built a mountain of trash bags on the curb.
Trash bags on a sidewalk | Source: Midjourney
The kitchen countertops were visible now, and the sink sparkled. The living room had been vacuumed, the surfaces dusted and disinfected.
“I’ll start on the bathroom,” Ryan said, filling a bucket with hot water and bleach.
I nodded. “I’ll finish up in here.”
As I opened a kitchen drawer looking for stray utensils, I found a folded newspaper, yellowed at the edges. I almost threw it out, but then a name caught my eye: Eleanor.
A folded newspaper | Source: Pexels
My breath stilled as I scanned the headline: “Local Father Dies in High-Speed Crash En Route to Hospital.”
According to the article, James had been speeding to get to County General when he lost control of his vehicle. His ten-year-old son, Michael, had been rushed to the same hospital hours earlier by Eleanor, his mother, and James’s wife.
James never made it to see his son.
A woman holding a newspaper | Source: Midjourney
I closed my eyes, absorbing the weight of it. He’d been rushing to see his sick son, and then he was gone. The article didn’t mention what had happened to Michael, but the birthday cards and the second bedroom suggested she’d lost him, too.
No wonder it had all gotten too much for Eleanor.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and headed to Margaret’s house. I needed to speak to Eleanor.
A sad and determined woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
Eleanor was still at Margaret’s kitchen table, hands curled around a now-cold mug of tea. She looked up as I entered, her eyes questioning.
I sat across from her, placing the folded newspaper on the table.
“I found this,” I said quietly.
Eleanor didn’t move. Her eyes fixed on the paper but then shifted away.
“I should have thrown that away years ago,” she whispered.
A woman’s face in shadow | Source: Pexels
“But you didn’t.” My voice was gentle. Not accusatory, just observing.
The silence stretched between us. Margaret stood by the sink, her hands clutched together.
“Michael developed severe asthma when he was four,” Eleanor finally said, her voice flat, as if she’d told this story so many times in her head that the words had lost their power. “We managed it for years, but…” Her voice wobbled.
A woman at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
“Michael’s condition worsened suddenly. I had to rush him to the hospital one day. I called James and he… he was driving too fast.”
Her breath shuddered.
“He never made it. And Michael… a week later, he was gone, too.”
A hard lump settled in my throat. To lose both of them so close together…
I reached across the table and placed my hand over Eleanor’s. “The room. You kept it exactly the same.”
A woman’s hand | Source: Pexels
Eleanor nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “At first, it felt wrong to change anything. Then, as time passed, it felt wrong to even go in there. So I just… closed the door.”
“And the birthday cards?” I asked softly.
“I couldn’t help myself.” She wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “For three years afterward, I bought my son a birthday card. I wrote him a message I wished he could read. I thought I was just working through my grief, but it became more painful instead of less. It was silly.”
A woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“No,” Margaret said firmly, coming to sit beside Eleanor. “It’s not silly at all. It’s love.”
Eleanor broke then, her shoulders shaking with years of bottled grief. Margaret moved her chair closer, putting an arm around her.
“It wasn’t just Michael and James,” Eleanor managed between sobs. “It was me, too. Part of me died with them. And I just… I couldn’t keep up with everything. The house, the yard… it all seemed so pointless, so exhausting.”
A sad woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Grief can swallow you whole,” I said quietly. “My mom went through something similar after my dad left. Not the same, but… things piled up. Literally.”
Eleanor looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “How did she get past it?”
“She didn’t, not really. Not on her own.” I squeezed her hand. “I helped where I could, but we both needed more than that. Eventually, she got therapy. Made some friends at a support group. It wasn’t a straight line to better.”
A woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
Margaret stroked Eleanor’s back gently. “You don’t have to be alone in this anymore.”
Eleanor wiped her eyes again. “The house… is it awful?”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” I assured her. “I called in back up and we’ve made good progress. Would you like to see?”
Eleanor nodded. Moments later, she stood hesitantly in the doorway of her home.
A front door and porch | Source: Pexels
Ryan stood aside, a nervous half-smile on his face.
“We’re not totally finished,” he explained. “But it’s getting there.”
Eleanor stepped inside slowly. The living room was transformed — floors cleaned, surfaces dusted, clutter removed.
She moved through the space as if in a dream, touching things, testing their reality. When she reached the closed door of the second bedroom, she froze.
A woman looking anxious | Source: Pexels
“We didn’t touch that room,” I said quickly. “I wanted to ask first.”
Eleanor nodded but didn’t open the door.
“Thank you.” She turned to face us. “Thank you both.”
Her eyes filled with tears again, but these seemed different. Relief, maybe. Or the first hint of something like peace.
“We’ll come back tomorrow to finish up, if that’s okay,” I offered. “The bathroom needs more work, and there’s still the yard…”
“Yes,” Eleanor said, and for the first time, I saw the shadow of a smile on her face. “That would be… yes.”
A woman smiling faintly | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, Eleanor was ready when we arrived. She had put on a clean blouse and combed her hair.
“Margaret invited me over for breakfast,” she told us. “And then we might look at some plants for the garden. If that’s all right?”
“That sounds perfect,” I said.
While Ryan tackled the overgrown yard with our garden tools, I finished the bathroom and laundry room. By mid-afternoon, the house was transformed. Not perfect, but livable. Clean. Fresh.
A clean and tidy home | Source: Pexels
When Eleanor returned, Margaret was with her, carrying a small tray of potted herbs.
“For the kitchen window,” Margaret explained.
Eleanor surveyed her house, her yard, her life — all visible now, all accessible again.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” I replied.
As Ryan and I packed up our supplies, I watched Eleanor and Margaret at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Something had shifted in Eleanor, like a door had opened, letting in light.
Coffee mugs on a table | Source: Pexels
I thought about my mother, about how hard it had been for her to accept help when her mental health started to deteriorate. She was the reason I’d started doing these free cleans in the first place, so nobody would have to suffer the same way.
Ryan caught my eye and smiled. “Another successful clean slate?”
I nodded, watching the two older women through the window as we walked to our van. “The cleanest.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Leave a Reply