Janitor Purchases Old Doll at Flea Market, Gives it to Child, and Hears Mysterious Cracking Noise

A few days earlier…

“Mommy,” said Eve sadly. “Can you get me a doll?”

“Honey,” Pauline gently replied. “You know we’re on a tight budget this month. Mommy will buy you one next month. That’s a promise.”

“But mommy…” Eve’s voice began to crack. “My birthday is in two days. Did you forget about it?”

“Oh, no, no, sweetheart! Not at all!” Pauline said, but she had actually forgotten and felt terrible about it.

“Are you still not going to get me a doll? I don’t have any friends, mommy. Nobody wants to be friends with me because we are poor. That doll can be my best friend…”

“Oh honey,” Pauline hugged Eve. “I will get you the doll. Promise. Don’t be sad, ok?”

Pauline knew the kids at Eve’s school didn’t treat her well because she wasn’t as rich as them, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Children can be cruel at times.

Present day…

Pauline was delighted after buying the doll. She couldn’t wait to give it to Eve and see her beautiful smile. The doll was one of those vintage kinds, holding a tiny baby in her arms.

“Oh, Eve will be so happy!” Pauline thought on her way back home.

And Eve was. The little girl’s joy knew no bounds when Pauline showed her the doll on her birthday.

Sometimes, the cause of someone’s smile is the source of another person’s grief.
“Ta-da! Mommy got the doll for Evie!” Pauline exclaimed, holding the doll in her hands. “Can mommy have a kiss for that?”

“It’s so pretty! Thank you, mommy!” Eve chirped as she kissed Pauline on the cheek.

As Pauline handed over the doll to Eve, she suddenly heard a strange crackling sound.

“What was that?” Pauline wondered.

She shook the doll, holding it close to her ears, and heard the crackling again.

“Mommy! Give it here! I wanna hold my doll! Please! Please!” Eve said, excited to play with it.

“One second, honey. I think there’s something in here…”

It was then that Pauline examined the doll and found a secret pocket sewn into the doll’s outfit. She undid the loose threads around it, and a note fell from it.

Eve quickly picked it up and said, “Mommy, it says, ‘Happy Birthday, Mommy.’ It’s not your birthday! It’s my birthday! This is so silly!”

When Pauline read the note, she noticed the message seemed like it was scribbled by a child. At that point, the thought of the woman selling the doll flashed through Pauline’s mind.

The next day, she returned to the flea market with the doll, and luckily, the woman’s stall was still there.

“Oh, I’m glad I found you here!” Pauline said. “I bought this doll yesterday, and I found a note inside…”

When the woman, Miriam, saw the note, her eyes welled up. “My daughter got this doll for me,” she said quietly. “She passed away two days before my birthday…My husband and I, oh, I’m sorry…” The woman covered her face as her tears started to flow.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” Pauline said apologetically. “I had no idea. I know I can’t take away your pain, but if it helps, I can give you a hug.”

“Oh, thank you…” Miriam said. Pauline gave her a warm hug, after which Miriam revealed her sad story, which brought tears to Pauline’s eyes.

“My little daughter was diagnosed with cancer,” Miriam said. “We needed money for her chemotherapy. My husband and I work at a factory. We didn’t have enough money to cover her hospital bills, so we set up a stall here to sell our old furniture and things we didn’t need.”

“But we couldn’t save our daughter…She—she left us too soon. We’re selling her toys because every time I look at them, it just makes me sad.”

“One night, when I held my baby girl’s hand, she asked me to be happy. She had said, ‘Mumma, when I’m gone, please remember me with a smile.’ So I decided to sell the toys. She had bought that doll, saying it would remind me of her. I’m sorry I feel like I’m oversharing with you, but my heart feels really relieved today. Thank you for listening to me.”

As Miriam finished, she broke down into tears again. Pauline consoled her, and the two women talked about their lives for a while. Pauline told her how she’d been raising Eve by herself and invited her over to spend time with them.

“Eve will love to meet you,” she said. “And thank you so much for the doll. It made my daughter’s day. I’m sure your daughter is looking at you and smiling. Thank you again,” she added before she left.

A few days later, Miriam visited Eve and Pauline at the trailer where they lived.

“This is in appreciation of your kind heart and patience in listening to me that day. I hope this helps you and Eve,” Miriam said, handing Pauline an envelope.

When Pauline opened it, she found a couple of dollar bills inside. $3000 in total. “Oh, Miriam, we can’t take this. This is a lot. No, no, this doesn’t feel right…”

“You can take it, Pauline,” Miriam insisted. “A mother’s heart knows how much it hurts when you can’t do enough for your child. We made this by selling the toys. Please keep it. If not for my sake, please keep it for Eve’s sake.”

Pauline cried. “Oh, Miriam, thank you. This will help us a lot. Thanks.”

From then on, Miriam and Pauline became friends, and Miriam loved and spoiled Eve too much. But the best part was that Pauline and Eve’s company helped Miriam heal and move on from her loss.

What can we learn from this story?

Help someone in need, and you’ll never regret it. Pauline and Miriam helped each other in whatever way they could. That helped Miriam overcome her grief, and Pauline and Eve found someone who cherished their company.
Sometimes, the cause of someone’s smile is the source of another person’s grief. Sadly, the doll which made Eve happy on her birthday was a reminder of Miriam’s sad past.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

I Found Out My Husband Rents a House on the Outskirts – My Heart Nearly Stopped When I Visited

My marriage felt like a dream until I discovered my husband was renting a secret house on the outskirts. What I found when I visited unveiled a heart-stopping truth, exposing the dark reality of the man I thought I knew.

For years, I thought my husband Stan and I were living a fairy tale. He was my soulmate, not just a partner I shared the same roof or bed with, and I happily put his wishes first, even delaying having children. Then, one day, a forgotten phone revealed the painful truth: my husband wasn’t who I thought he was.

A young romantic couple under a transparent umbrella on a rainy day | Source: Unsplash

A young romantic couple under a transparent umbrella on a rainy day | Source: Unsplash

Stan and I met during a press conference in Tokyo seven years ago. We’ve been together ever since, married for five of those golden years. He seemed perfect in every sense of the word.

“Mindy, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Stan once said, collapsing onto our plush sofa after a long day at work. “But seeing your face makes it all better.”

I smiled, settling next to him. “Tell me about it. I want to hear everything.”

Those were the days when we couldn’t get enough of each other.

A couple sitting beside each other in a room | Source: Unsplash

A couple sitting beside each other in a room | Source: Unsplash

Stan loved me and showered me with precious gifts, but after some time, I got bored of his expensive gifts. I wanted him, his time, and not those materialistic sparkly diamonds or opulent pearls.

“Another necklace?” I once asked, trying to mask my disappointment as I opened the velvet box.

Stan beamed, oblivious to my tone. “Only the best for you, darling.”

I forced a smile, wishing he’d understand that his presence was worth more than any jewelry.

A man putting a pearl necklace around a woman's neck | Source: Pexels

A man putting a pearl necklace around a woman’s neck | Source: Pexels

Stan worked in an office in an amazing position and made good money. But the thing is, he started spending more time at work while I stayed at home, dusting, cooking, and cleaning.

Stan barely had time for me, and I missed those days when we used to Netflix binge, bake together, or even grab some good sleep. Stan started coming home late, and I’d be mostly asleep.

His focus shifted entirely to work, and as his career climbed new heights, our connection dwindled.

A man working on a laptop in his office | Source: Pexels

A man working on a laptop in his office | Source: Pexels

So while I was already dealing with the heartbreak of Stan not spending time with me, on a fateful morning, right after my husband left for work, I noticed he’d forgotten his phone on the table in a hurry.

I thought he would come back for it, but he didn’t.

I went about my day, doing laundry and refilling the vases with fresh garden flowers when his phone buzzed suddenly. Curiosity overcame me, and I impulsively grabbed it to check the message.

A smartphone on a table | Source: Pexels

A smartphone on a table | Source: Pexels

Stan had locked his phone, but he didn’t know I had once seen his pattern lock and knew it by heart, though I never snooped into his phone or privacy before.

But something compelled me to check the message after seeing it written in all caps with the words “final reminder.”

So I unlocked Stan’s phone and saw the message: “STAN! THIS IS YOUR FINAL REMINDER TO PAY THE RENT FOR THE HOUSE, OR I’LL HAVE TO RENT IT TO SOMEONE ELSE! TOMORROW IS THE DEADLINE!”

Close-up of a woman with a smartphone | Source: Pexels

Close-up of a woman with a smartphone | Source: Pexels

My hands shook as I read it again. Stan was renting a house? Without telling me? I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

Just then, he called my phone. “Hey, honey. I left my phone at home. I’ll be home late tonight… important client meeting.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Fine!”

As I hung up, I couldn’t help but wonder what Stan was hiding from me.

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

The rest of the day was a blur as I obsessively checked the clock. At precisely five o’clock, I hailed a cab, directing the driver to Stan’s office, which I knew closed around half-past five or six.

I didn’t take my car because mine was a yellow Mini Cooper, and I didn’t want to risk Stan finding out I was following him.

“I need to be there a bit early,” I told myself, my heart pounding. “I have to find out what he’s up to.”

A cab on the street | Source: Unsplash

A cab on the street | Source: Unsplash

At 6 p.m. sharp, I saw Stan leaving his office and get in his car, driving to the outskirts of the city. Weird.

“Follow that car,” I instructed the driver, feeling like I was in some kind of spy movie.

After what felt like an eternity on wheels, Stan parked outside a small, rundown house and went inside the building.

A house nestled among flower bushes and trees | Source: Unsplash

A house nestled among flower bushes and trees | Source: Unsplash

I asked the cabbie to wait, and gathering my courage, I went after Stan ten minutes later. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob.

“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself.

I slowly opened the door and nearly lost my breath when I saw Stan sitting on a chair near an easel of painting. What was going on?

I barged inside, and Stan’s face turned pale as though he’d seen a ghost.

“M-Mindy?” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”

Rear view of a man painting on a canvas | Source: Pexels

Rear view of a man painting on a canvas | Source: Pexels

I ignored his question, my eyes darting around the room filled with canvases and paint tubes. “What on earth are you doing here, Stan? Why did you rent this house?”

Stan didn’t understand how I’d found out until I told him about seeing the message on his phone. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping.

“This house is my escape from the daily grind. It’s where I come to refresh and refocus.”

I felt a surge of relief and confusion. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

Grayscale portrait of a shocked woman | Source: Pexels

Grayscale portrait of a shocked woman | Source: Pexels

Shame flushing his face, he averted his gaze. “I was embarrassed about my hobby, given my high-profile job. I feared your teasing.”

I moved closer, my anger softening. “Stan, I’d never laugh at something that makes you happy. But why all the secrecy?”

Although I wanted to believe him, my instincts told me he was still hiding something from me. And I was right.

Just two minutes later, someone knocked on the door.

A man sitting on the couch and covering his face | Source: Unsplash

A man sitting on the couch and covering his face | Source: Unsplash

Stan jumped up, panic flashing across his face. “Mindy, maybe you should go home now. I can explain everything later.”

But I was already moving towards the door. “No, I think I’ll get my answers now.”

“Mindy, wait—”

Stan tried stopping me, but I approached the door and opened it, only to stand back in shock.

Grayscale of a startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels

Grayscale of a startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels

A young, beautiful brunette stood in the doorway, chewing bubblegum and eyeing me curiously.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She blew a bubble before answering, “I’m Luke’s girlfriend. He paints portraits of me. And who are you? What are you doing here?”

My world spun. “Luke? Girlfriend?” I sputtered. Then, finding my voice, I declared, “I’m his WIFE! And his name’s STAN! Not Luke!”

A young woman blowing gum bubble | Source: Pexels

A young woman blowing gum bubble | Source: Pexels

The girl’s eyes widened in shock. Before I could process what was happening, Stan rushed past me, pushing the girl away and slamming the door shut.

He turned to me, his face ashen. “Mindy, I can explain—”

I yanked away as he tried to cup my face. “What’s going on, Stan? Who is she?”

My eyes darted around the room, noticing for the first time that all the easels were draped with beige cloth. With trembling hands, I pulled the cloth off the nearest one.

A room full of painting easels covered in beige cloth | Source: Midjourney

A room full of painting easels covered in beige cloth | Source: Midjourney

My breath caught in my throat. It was a painting of a half-naked woman, the same woman who had just been at the door.

Tears began streaming down my face as I moved from easel to easel, uncovering more paintings.

“Mindy, please,” Stan begged. “It’s not what you think—”

But I was beyond listening. I dropped to my knees, pulling out more canvases from under the bed. They were all the same—portraits of scantily clad women in suggestive poses. And then I found the photos.

A teary-eyed woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels

A teary-eyed woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels

“Oh God,” I choked out, staring at images of Stan… my Stan… in compromising positions with these women.

The truth hit me like a freight train. Stan was cheating on me.

“It was a mistake,” he kept saying, his words tumbling over each other. “Some kind of obsession I can’t overcome. Mindy, please—”

But I was already moving towards the door, my vision blurred by tears.

Grayscale of a man covering his face | Source: Pexels

Grayscale of a man covering his face | Source: Pexels

“Mindy, wait!” Stan called after me. “Let me explain!”

I ignored his pleas, stumbling out into the night air. My whole body shook as I got into the cab, Stan’s cries still echoing in my ears.

Overwhelmed, I raced home and frantically packed before seeking refuge at my aunt’s place. The next morning, I called my lawyer and initiated divorce proceedings.

Divorce papers on a table | Source: Pexels

Divorce papers on a table | Source: Pexels

Two weeks have passed since that day. As I wait for the divorce proceedings to begin, I can’t stop shaking.

How could I have shared my life with someone like Stan? How could I have been so blind?

I reported him to the police, shattering his carefully curated public image. It felt like the only way to reclaim some power in this nightmare.

Two cops walking on the street | Source: Pexels

Two cops walking on the street | Source: Pexels

As I sit in my new apartment, staring at the walls, I can’t help but think about how quickly my “perfect” marriage crumbled. It was as fragile as glass, shattering into a million pieces at my feet.

I don’t know how long it will take to heal from these scars. The betrayal runs deep, inflicted by the very man I worshipped, trusted, and loved.

A woman looking out the window | Source: Pexels

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