When Nancy’s landlord demanded she and her three daughters vacate their rental home for a week, she thought life couldn’t get worse. But a surprise meeting with the landlord’s brother revealed a shocking betrayal.
Our house isn’t much, but it’s ours. The floors creak with every step, and the paint in the kitchen is peeling so badly that I’ve started calling it “abstract art.”
An old house | Source: Pexels
Still, it’s home. My daughters, Lily, Emma, and Sophie, make it feel that way, with their laughter and the little things they do that remind me why I push so hard.
Money was always on my mind. My job as a waitress barely covered our rent and bills. There was no cushion, no backup plan. If something went wrong, I didn’t know what we’d do.
The phone rang the next day while I was hanging out laundry to dry.
A woman hanging laundry | Source: Pexels
“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Nancy, it’s Peterson.”
His voice made my stomach tighten. “Oh, hi, Mr. Peterson. Is everything okay?”
“I need you out of the house for a week,” he said, as casually as if he were asking me to water his plants.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“What?” I froze, a pair of Sophie’s socks still in my hands.
“My brother’s coming to town, and he needs a place to stay. I told him he could use your house.”
I thought I must’ve misheard him. “Wait—this is my home. We have a lease!”
“Don’t start with that lease nonsense,” he snapped. “Remember when you were late on rent last month? I could’ve kicked you out then, but I didn’t. You owe me.”
An angry man talking on his phone | Source: Freepik
I gripped the phone tighter. “I was late by one day,” I said, my voice shaking. “My daughter was sick. I explained that to you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “You’ve got till Friday to get out. Be gone, or maybe you won’t come back at all.”
“Mr. Peterson, please,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
An expressive woman talking | Source: Pexels
“Not my problem,” he said coldly, and then the line went dead.
I sat on the couch, staring at the phone in my hand. My heart pounded in my ears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Lily, my oldest, asked from the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.
I forced a smile. “Nothing, sweetheart. Go play with your sisters.”
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Pexels
But it wasn’t nothing. I had no savings, no family nearby, and no way to fight back. If I stood up to Peterson, he’d find an excuse to evict us for good.
By Thursday night, I’d packed what little we could carry into a few bags. The girls were full of questions, but I didn’t know how to explain what was happening.
“We’re going on an adventure,” I told them, trying to sound cheerful.
A woman packing together with her daughter | Source: Pexels
“Is it far?” Sophie asked, clutching Mr. Floppy to her chest.
“Not too far,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
The hostel was worse than I expected. The room was tiny, barely big enough for the four of us, and the walls were so thin we could hear every cough, every creak, every loud voice from the other side.
A woman in a hostel | Source: Freepik
“Mama, it’s noisy,” Emma said, pressing her hands over her ears.
“I know, sweetie,” I said softly, stroking her hair.
Lily tried to distract her sisters by playing I Spy, but it didn’t work for long. Sophie’s little face crumpled, and tears started streaming down her cheeks.
“Where’s Mr. Floppy?” she cried, her voice breaking.
A crying child | Source: Pexels
My stomach sank. In the rush to leave, I’d forgotten her bunny.
“He’s still at home,” I said, my throat tightening.
“I can’t sleep without him!” Sophie sobbed, clutching my arm.
I wrapped her in my arms and held her close, whispering that it would be okay. But I knew it wasn’t okay.
A woman hugging her crying child | Source: Freepik
That night, as Sophie cried herself to sleep, I stared at the cracked ceiling, feeling completely helpless.
By the fourth night, Sophie’s crying hadn’t stopped. Every sob felt like a knife to my heart.
“Please, Mama,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I want Mr. Floppy.”
I held her tightly, rocking her back and forth.
A crying girl | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’ll get him,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.
I didn’t know how, but I had to try.
I parked down the street, my heart pounding as I stared at the house. What if they didn’t let me in? What if Mr. Peterson was there? But Sophie’s tear-streaked face wouldn’t leave my mind.
A thoughtful woman in front of her house | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and walked up to the door, Sophie’s desperate “please” echoing in my ears. My knuckles rapped against the wood, and I held my breath.
The door opened, and a man I’d never seen before stood there. He was tall, with a kind face and sharp green eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking puzzled.
A man in front of his house | Source: Midjourney
“Hi,” I stammered. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m the tenant here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny inside, and I was hoping I could grab it.”
He blinked at me. “Wait. You live here?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat. “But Mr. Peterson told us we had to leave for a week because you were staying here.”
A sad woman in the doorway | Source: Pexels
His brows furrowed. “What? My brother said the place was empty and ready for me to move in for a bit.”
I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “It’s not empty. This is my home. My kids and I are crammed into a hostel across town. My youngest can’t sleep because she doesn’t have her bunny.”
A sad young woman talking to a man | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, and for a second, I thought he was angry at me. Instead, he muttered, “That son of a…” He stopped himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I had no idea. Come in, and we’ll find the bunny.”
A serious young man opening his door | Source: Midjourney
He stepped aside, and I hesitated before walking in. The familiar smell of home hit me, and my eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall. Jack—he introduced himself as Jack—helped me search Sophie’s room, which looked untouched.
“Here he is,” Jack said, pulling Mr. Floppy from under the bed.
A pink stuffed bunny under a bed | Source: Midjourney
I held the bunny close, imagining Sophie’s joy. “Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Tell me everything,” Jack said, sitting on the edge of Sophie’s bed. “What exactly did my brother say to you?”
I hesitated but told him everything: the call, the threats, the hostel. He listened quietly, his jaw tightening with every word.
A couple talking | Source: Midjourney
When I finished, he stood and pulled out his phone. “This isn’t right,” he said.
“Wait—what are you doing?”
“Fixing this,” he said, dialing.
The conversation that followed was heated, though I could only hear his side.
A serious man on his phone | Source: Pexels
“You kicked a single mom and her kids out of their home? For me?” Jack’s voice was sharp. “No, you’re not getting away with this. Fix it now, or I will.”
He hung up and turned to me. “Pack your things at the hostel. You’re coming back tonight.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard him right. “What about you?”
“I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he said firmly. “I can’t stay here after what my brother pulled. And he’ll cover your rent for the next six months.”
A smiling man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
That evening, Jack helped us move back in. Sophie lit up when she saw Mr. Floppy, her little arms clutching the bunny like a treasure.
“Thank you,” I told Jack as we unpacked. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I couldn’t let you stay there another night,” he said simply.
A young child holding her toy | Source: Midjourney
Over the next few weeks, Jack kept showing up. He fixed the leaky faucet in the kitchen. One night, he brought over groceries.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I like helping.”
A man with groceries | Source: Pexels
The girls adored him. Lily asked for his advice on her science project. Emma roped him into board games. Even Sophie warmed up to him, offering Mr. Floppy a “hug” for Jack to join their tea party.
I started to see more of the man behind the kind gestures. He was funny, patient, and genuinely cared about my kids. Eventually, our dinners together blossomed into a romance.
A couple on a date night | Source: Pexels
One evening several months later, as we sat on the porch after the girls had gone to bed, Jack spoke quietly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking out into the yard.
“About what?”
“I don’t want you and the girls to ever feel like this again. No one should be scared of losing their home overnight.”
A young man talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney
His words hung in the air.
“I want to help you find something permanent,” he continued. “Will you marry me?”
I was stunned. “Jack… I don’t know what to say. Yes!”
A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels
A month later, we moved into a beautiful little house Jack found for us. Lily had her own room. Emma painted hers pink. Sophie ran to hers, holding Mr. Floppy like a shield.
As I tucked Sophie in that night, she whispered, “Mama, I love our new home.”
“So do I, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead.
A woman tucking her daughter in | Source: Midjourney
Jack stayed for dinner that night, helping me set the table. As the girls chattered, I looked at him and knew: he wasn’t just our hero. He was family.
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.
Son Leaves Mom in Wheelchair on the Street, Year Later Sees Her Coming to His House on Her Feet – Story of the Day
Wendy hoped her son, John, would care for her in her sunset years. But John left her alone on the street. He did not expect his mother to appear at his doorstep a year later, standing on her feet.
“Can’t talk now, mom! I’m with a customer. I might finally sell a house this year. I’ll call the neighbors to check up on you. But I’m sure it’s nothing. You must’ve sat on the pot too long. Ok. Gotta go. I’ll come in to check on you tonight.”
Wendy remembered the call with her son, John, the first time her legs went numb. She remembered the state of panic she was in when she called him for help. She remembered getting breathless, fearing she was going to die. But her son did not have time to help her despite living a few blocks away.
He didn’t remember to call the neighbors to check in on her or visit her that night. And he even failed to sell the house, or any house, for that entire year.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
It had been a year since Wendy started feeling numbness in her legs. They stopped working all of a sudden as if they were paralyzed. Initially, the weakness in her legs lasted 10-15 minutes. She would wait it out by simply gathering herself and resting in the corner of the house until her legs came back to normal.
Eventually, the frequency of her legs going numb increased, until one day, when she had a fall and couldn’t get up. She cried for help, and luckily, the neighbors showed up. They informed John, who rushed in and took Wendy to the hospital.
Wendy was diagnosed with a rare nerve compression syndrome that caused numbness in her lower limbs. Her situation got complicated for over a year as she and John ignored her symptoms. And the injuries she sustained while falling made things worse.
Wendy was now in a wheelchair.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
John drove Wendy to the hospital and back for the first month of her physiotherapy sessions, but nothing helped Wendy get better. Although Wendy was spending her money for the treatment, John was getting frustrated, driving her to and fro.
“I think you should give up, mom. How many times am I supposed to miss my meetings? You know I need to focus on selling houses, right?” Wendy would wipe her tears while listening to her son’s insensitive comments during their car rides.
‘But he’s my son. At least he’s there for me,’ Wendy would console herself.
Karma will always hit you back.
After the physiotherapy and medication did not improve Wendy’s condition, the doctors suggested she get an expensive surgery. Wendy had spent all her savings on her treatment. She asked John for help, but he refused.
“Do you know how much rent I pay for my house? I can’t afford it, but as a realtor, I need to have a lifestyle. Who would buy a house from someone who lives in a small house?” John explained to Wendy.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
One day, John received a call from Wendy’s neighbors saying she was at the hospital for surgery. John did not know about any surgery, but he drove to the hospital.
He reached Wendy’s room and saw her sitting on her bed, crying while a group of doctors spoke to her. The primary doctor noticed John and came out of the room and said, “Are you Mr. John Matthews, her son?” John nodded.
“Where have you been? We waited for someone next of kin, but since no one arrived, we decided to deliver the news to Wendy directly.”
“What news?”
“Mr. Matthews, your mother’s surgery did not give the expected results. We still haven’t noticed any significant movement in her legs. And we can’t be sure when we will see a change. We’ll have to wait and watch for now. Wendy has already signed the discharge formalities and is free to go.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
John feigned empathy for Wendy and consoled her. As he took her in the wheelchair towards his car, he asked her how she arranged for the money.
“I didn’t want to trouble you for any money, son, so I made the decision myself.”
“What decision, mom?”
“I sold the house.”
John stopped in his tracks, stunned.
“Remember Joanne? My friend from the old book club who moved to another city? She introduced me to her nephew, who wanted to buy a house in our area. Actually, they called and said they were coming here to visit me—”
“Are you kidding, mom? You sold the house? And for what, a failed surgery? You’re so selfish! You didn’t even think of me! It’s my house too, right? I was waiting on that house after—”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
John stopped himself, but Wendy realized what he meant. She was hurt that all John cared about was his inheritance and did not care about her.
Wendy was wiping her tears when John got a call from a prospective customer. He walked away to answer it. After his call, he told Wendy he had an urgent meeting with his customer.
“Go, son. As I said, Joanne was coming to visit me. I’ll ask her to drop me at the nursing home, and I have already spoken to them about moving there.”
“You see, that’s what I’m talking about. I had no idea what you do—”
John was interrupted by another call. He shook his head with disgust at his mother and just took off. Wendy was quietly sobbing on the street near the parking lot, feeling alone and hurt.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
A year had passed, and John hadn’t spoken with his mother. One morning, he heard a car pull up near his driveway. He wasn’t expecting visitors. He went out and saw a senior woman get out of the car. She stood outside the car, searching for something in the glove compartment.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” John asked, confused to see a stranger park outside his house.
When the woman turned around, John had the shock of his life. It was Wendy, and she was able to walk on her feet.
“Mom, oh my God! How are you?”
“Much better, son. I love every moment.” Wendy’s positive response took John aback, and he invited her to the house and offered her a glass of water.
John did not know how to interact with her. Wendy broke the ice and said, “Don’t look so gloomy, son. Look, I’m fine now. Remember when you left me all alone on the street after I was out after a failed surgery?” John turned pale as he recounted his behavior.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
“Well! My friend Joanne and her nephew, Evan, arrived shortly after that. They were heartbroken seeing me all alone near the parking lot, so they took me with them instead of dropping me at the nursing home. Joanne had to leave the next day, but Evan offered me to stay with him in my old house. I mean, his house since he bought it from me.”
“He cared for me like a son and even found better doctors in another city. I was afraid of another surgery, but Evan was there by my side throughout. And miraculously, the surgery worked. Evan also paid for my knee replacement surgery. Not only can I walk, but I can also run like I used to when I was young.”
John was speechless. Although he was embarrassed, he did not like how Wendy praised a stranger. He snarled, “I get it. I was a horrible son. But if this Evan is so great, why are you even here?”
John heard another car pull up outside his house. A young man walked into his house.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
“Oh, Evan. Great timing. We were just talking about you,” Wendy chuckled, greeting Evan.
“Excuse me. You can’t just enter my house like that.” John said, furiously pointing at Evan.
“Well, but I can enter MY house, can’t I?” Evan’s words confused John.
As it turned out, Evan owned the house Jonathan was living in. John was unaware since he only dealt with the agency that mediated all the transactions. Furthermore, John had skipped six months’ rent and evaded calls from the agency.
The agency notified Evan after John skipped rent for a couple of months. But Evan knew that John was struggling based on what he heard from Wendy, so he decided to go easy on John and asked the agency to back off, too.
But when Wendy learned about John’s antics, she realized that she couldn’t give him any more rope. She urged Evan to punish John for not paying the rent.
“Oh, I almost forgot, son!” Wendy reached into her bag. “Here is the eviction notice. You have 15 days.” Wendy handed John the documents and left with Evan.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Getty Images
John sat on his couch and held his head. He realized that his behavior had finally led to him hitting rock bottom.
What can we learn from this story?
- Take care of your parents. Our parents sacrificed a lot to raise us; the least we can do for them in their old age is care for them. Wendy cared a lot for John even if he disrespected and hurt her. John never cared for Wendy when she needed him but still expected her house as an inheritance.
- Karma will always hit you back. John always treated Wendy with disdain and disrespect. His bad karma finally hit back when his mother decided to help evict him from his house.
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