
Nancy’s life is turned upside down at her husband’s funeral when she encounters an older woman holding a baby. The woman claims the child she is carrying is Nancy’s late husband’s. Is she lying? Or do more shocking revelations await Nancy?
Nancy looked at the final traces of her husband’s funeral service. She couldn’t believe Patrick was gone. He had died in a car accident. It had been a week, but she could still feel him around her. How could he be dead?
With a heavy heart, she headed toward the cemetery’s exit, telling herself she had to start figuring out the rest of her life.
Suddenly, an older woman with a baby blocked her path.
“Are you Nancy?” the woman asked while the baby in her arms cried.
Nancy didn’t recognize her. Who was she?
“I am. Who are you?” Nancy replied.

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Nancy’s heart wasn’t ready when the woman, Amanda, revealed the baby in her arms was Patrick’s child.
“Only you can look after this child now,” she told Nancy. “Her mother can’t provide for her.”
A shiver ran down Nancy’s spine. She stared at the baby and backed away.
“No, it can’t be! Patrick was a loving husband. He would never do this to me!”
Nancy turned around and left. She would never doubt Patrick.
“Watch out!”
Nancy bumped into one of Patrick’s old friends, Mike. She was too lost in her thoughts to notice where she was heading.
Mike started chatting with her, offering his condolences. Nancy didn’t want to talk to anyone, but she had to be courteous. She finished the conversation as soon as she could and headed to her car.

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The baby’s thoughts replayed in her mind, but she dismissed them. However, as Nancy opened her car door, she was shocked. The same baby lay in her back seat, crying.
Nancy looked around. Amanda was nowhere to be seen. “How did this baby even get here?” she wondered.
It was cold, so Nancy removed her jacket and began wrapping it around the little one.
But she froze when she noticed a birthmark on the baby’s neck. “It can’t be,” she muttered to herself.
The birthmark was exactly like Patrick’s. Nancy didn’t want to suspect her late husband of cheating. But now, she needed the truth. She needed to know if Patrick had been unfaithful to her.
Nancy drove home with the baby, took Patrick’s hair strands from his hairbrush, and went to a hospital.

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“Hello, I’d like to get a paternity test done,” she told the receptionist at the counter.
“OK, ma’am. Normally, it takes a few days to get the results,” the woman said.
“Can it be done quicker?” Nancy asked. “I’ll pay extra.”
“Well, we do have expedited service. Let me see what I can do. But it will cost you more.”
“I’ll take it,” Nancy replied. She submitted Patrick’s samples and paid for the test.
Sitting in the hallway, she was awaiting the results when the baby started crying. Nancy sniffed the baby’s clothes. Her diaper didn’t need a change.
Nancy guessed she must have been hungry. There was still time before the results came in, so she drove to a supermarket and bought baby formula, bottles, and a few diapers — just in case she needed them.
She returned to the hallway and sat there, feeding the formula to the baby. After what seemed like an eternity, a nurse approached her with the results.
The woman handed her an envelope and walked away.

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“This is the truth, and I’ll have to accept it whether I like it or not,” Nancy thought as she opened the results.
Her head seemed to spin when she read the words, “Paternity rate – 99%.”
Nancy looked at the sleeping baby in her arms and swallowed the tears in her eyes. Patrick had cheated on her and kept her in the dark.
Nancy decided she would not live with the proof of his infidelity forever. She would find the baby’s mother and give the baby back to her.
Pulling herself together, Nancy drove home and began going through Patrick’s things. But she didn’t find anything that could point her to his lover. She moved to his office next, searching his drawers, files, and cabinets. But nothing.
Nancy sighed. The baby was asleep in the living room. Grabbing the baby monitor, she headed to Patrick’s car. She searched under the seats, in the glove compartment, and in all the nooks and crannies of the vehicle. But she didn’t find anything significant.

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Nancy sank into the driver’s seat when her eyes landed on the GPS. And it was then it hit her. Patrick was terrible at directions and always used the navigator. If he had ever visited his mistress’ house, that is where she would find her address.
Nancy went straight to recent destinations on the navigator. The list wasn’t long, mostly familiar places: local restaurants, the hardware store, and Patrick’s office. But then, one address caught her eye—it appeared more frequently than others, and she didn’t recognize it.
“This is it,” she thought. She took the baby with her and drove to the address.
***
Arriving there, Nancy found herself in front of a modest house. She scooped the baby in her arms, walked to the front door, and knocked.
“Hello? Anyone home?” she asked.
After the tenth knock, when nobody answered the door, Nancy concluded the house was empty. She looked around and decided to approach the neighbors. She started with the house next door and rang the doorbell.
The door opened with a creak, and Nancy’s eyes widened when Amanda stepped out.
“You?” Nancy asked.
“How…how did you find me?” Amanda stuttered.

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“I was trying to find my husband’s…” Nancy paused. “His other woman. I wanted to return her baby.”
A strange sadness flashed across Amanda’s face. “The woman who lived next door… died a few days ago. She had a heart attack when she learned about your husband’s accident. Emma is no more.”
“Wait…did you say Emma?” Nancy asked, shocked.
“Yes,” Amanda nodded. “Did you know her?”
“Was…Was her last name Warren?”
When Amanda nodded, Nancy hung her head in shame. “Can-Can I come inside?” she asked. “There’s something I’d like to tell you. I feel I could use some talk.”
Amanda opened the door wider for her, and Nancy stepped inside. They settled in the living room. “Emma was my classmate,” Nancy began recounting her past. “She was also my friend. But I wronged her and…Patrick…”
20 years ago…
Nancy and Patrick were in their school’s hallway. She was standing next to her locker when Patrick approached her.

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“Hey, Nancy,” he said quietly, and she looked at him.
“I…I need to tell you something,” Patrick added anxiously.
“Hey,” she smiled. “Yes?”
“I…I’m in love with someone else, Nancy,” he confessed. “I know you’ve been really kind and everything, but I’m sorry.”
Nancy was shocked. “Tell me it’s a joke, Patrick,” she cried. “You can’t be serious!”
But Patrick was serious. Patrick was head over heels in love with Emma, and Emma loved him, too.

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Nancy was so distraught that day that she returned home in tears.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Her mother immediately sensed something had happened at school.
Nancy sobbed as she told her how Patrick had broken up with her.
“I want to break them up!” she yelled. “I won’t let them be together!”
“Nancy, you won’t be able to create your own happiness by destroying someone else’s,” her mother advised her. “Revenge is never an option. Forget about him.”
But Nancy was fueled with the desire for revenge.

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In the next few days, Nancy tried everything she could to drive Patrick and Emma apart—she spread silly rumors, planned coincidental run-ins where she’d flaunt newfound confidence, and even stooped to sending anonymous notes, trying to stir up jealousy.
However, nothing worked. Emma seemed happy, wrapped up in her and Patrick’s world and Nancy was left on the outside, her plans crumbling uselessly around her.
But Nancy wasn’t the one to give up. One night, she had the perfect idea to drive a wedge between Emma and Patrick.
“Hello, Nancy, how are you?” Nancy visited Patrick, and the door was answered by this mother.
“I’m fine, Mrs. White. Is Patrick home?”
“Yes, dear. Let me get him.”
Patrick was confused to see her on his doorstep. “Nancy? What’s going on?”
“I know this will come as a shock to you, Patrick, but…I’m-I’m pregnant!” she announced.

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Patrick was shocked and terrified. “What…but…Are you sure?”
When she nodded, Patrick invited her inside. She told him she hadn’t told her parents yet because she was scared. Nancy said her father would definitely be against it and force her to terminate the pregnancy. So she begged Patrick not to tell anyone about it and noticed how easily he succumbed to her lie.
Patrick was a responsible guy. Nancy knew that. He held her hands and said, “I’m the child’s father, so I’ll take the responsibility for our baby. And yes, don’t worry; this will stay between us.”
Present-day…
“I used him. I lied to him. I wasn’t pregnant,” Nancy told Amanda. “I was hurt, and I couldn’t stand losing him to Emma. So I told him a lie that changed everything. He was ready to step up, leave Emma, and be…a father.”
“Lies ruin everything, dear,” Amanda shook her head. “And what after that? Did he never find out the truth?”

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“He didn’t,” Nancy revealed. “I kept up the act, the morning sickness, the whole thing. But after a couple of months, I…I couldn’t carry on with it. So, I told him there was a mistake with the test and that the doctor was wrong. And by then, Emma had…moved. She was heartbroken and had left town with her parents. Patrick and I stayed together. He never went back to her, never tried to find her. We just moved on. Or pretended to…” Nancy added, looking at the sleeping baby in her arms. Now she knew Patrick had returned to Emma.
“And I guess it’s time to correct what I couldn’t back then,” Nancy said and rose to her feet.
She was leaving Amanda’s house with the baby when the older woman stopped her.
“What are you going to do with the baby?” Amanda asked.
Nancy turned around and smiled at Amanda. “I will raise her as my own child. Maybe that’ll help me seek forgiveness from Patrick and Emma.”

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And Nancy followed through on her words. She raised baby Catherine with love. When Catherine turned 16, Nancy told her everything about her past. She was expecting Catherine to hate her. And she was prepared for it.
But Catherine smiled and said, “Nothing changes how I feel about you, Mom. You raised me. You were there for every scraped knee, every fever, every heartbreak. You’re my mom in every way that counts.”
Nancy cried silently and hugged her daughter. Catherine’s words had not only relieved her heart, but they’d also made her believe that Emma and Patrick had forgiven her.
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If you enjoyed reading this story, you might like this one about a gang who mocked a plus-size woman at a beach. Little did they know she would teach them an unforgettable lesson.
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.
Grandma Saw the Sweater She Knitted for Her Granddaughter Donated and Decided It Was Time for a Talk About Appreciation — Story of the Day

At a bustling clothing drive, Sarah was all smiles until she found a knitted sweater she had lovingly gifted her granddaughter among the donations. Her heart sank as she spotted the familiar embroidered initials, turning her act of generosity into a moment of bittersweet reflection.
Sarah adjusted her glasses as she stood at the edge of the donation drive, clutching a bulging bag of clothes.
The air buzzed with activity—people chatted as they sifted through piles of donated items, and volunteers hurried from one booth to another.
For a moment, Sarah felt out of place, hesitant to step further into the scene.
Then she spotted Emily, her longtime friend, waving at her enthusiastically from across the crowd.
Emily’s energy was always infectious, and Sarah felt her nerves settle as she approached.

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“Sarah! I’m so glad you made it!” Emily beamed, practically bouncing as she came forward to greet her.
“Hello, Emily,” Sarah replied with a smile, feeling a bit lighter.
“Yes, I thought it was time to get out of the house. And helping at a clothing drive seemed like a meaningful way to spend the day. Thank you for convincing me to come.”
Placing her bag on the table, Sarah patted it gently. “These are things I don’t need anymore. Hopefully, they’ll be useful to someone.”

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Emily leaned over to peek inside. “Sarah, this is so generous of you! Thank you! These are in great condition.”
The women worked side by side, sorting clothes and helping people who approached the booth.
Emily’s cheerful banter helped Sarah relax, and the satisfaction of giving back warmed her.
But as they worked, Sarah noticed a tall man approaching. He carried a large bag and had a serious, almost stern expression.
Sarah stiffened slightly, unsure of his intentions, but he simply placed the bag on the table and nodded at Emily.

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“Thanks, Pete!” Emily called out cheerfully.
Sarah glanced at Emily, curious. “Where did all this come from?”
Emily chuckled as she opened the bag.
“We set up a donation bin near the dumpsters. You wouldn’t believe the quality of things people throw away! At least this way, they get a second chance to help someone.”
Sarah nodded, intrigued. As they began to sort through the bag’s contents, she pulled out a knitted sweater.

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Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t just any sweater—it was hers. She held it up, running her fingers over the soft yarn.
The embroidered initials on the hem confirmed it: this was the sweater she had painstakingly made for Violet, her granddaughter.
“This looks exactly like the one I gave to Violet,” Sarah said, her voice trembling slightly.
“Violet? Your granddaughter?” Emily asked, glancing at the sweater. “What a coincidence someone donated such a similar one!”

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But Sarah shook her head slowly. “It’s not a coincidence. This is the sweater.”
Emily’s expression fell as the realization dawned on her. “Oh no… that can’t be. She’d never discard your gift, would she? Are you absolutely sure?”
Sarah pointed to the initials. “I’m sure,” she said softly, her voice laced with sadness.
Emily reached out to touch Sarah’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”
Forcing a faint smile, Sarah replied, “It’s fine. Maybe it was too itchy… or just not her style.”
Her attempt to brush it off sounded hollow, even to herself. She folded the sweater gently and set it aside, but the weight of its presence lingered in her heart.

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At home, the afternoon sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting soft patterns on the living room walls.
Sarah sat in her favorite armchair, a cup of tea cooling on the side table. Her knitting needles rested in her lap, untouched.
She had placed the sweater she found at the donation drive neatly beside her.
Every so often, her eyes drifted to it, the familiar embroidered initials tugging at her heart.

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With a sigh, she picked up the phone, putting on her reading glasses to carefully dial the number. She clutched the receiver tightly, waiting as the line rang.
“Hello?” came a voice, bright but hurried. “Grandma? What’s up? I’m busy.”
Sarah smiled faintly, though she knew Violet couldn’t see it.
“Hi, Violet, dear. I won’t take much of your time. I just wanted to ask—how do you like the sweater I gave you? Have you been wearing it?”

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There was a pause on the other end, just long enough for Sarah to feel uneasy.
“The sweater?” Violet finally said, her tone suddenly lighter. “Oh, yeah, of course, Grandma. It’s great. I wear it all the time.”
“Really?” Sarah asked, her voice softening with hope.
“Yeah, really. I’m sorry, Grandma, but I have to go now. Let’s talk later, okay?”
“Of course, dear,” Sarah said quietly, but the line had already gone dead.

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She lowered the phone slowly, her gaze returning to the sweater. She traced the delicate initials with her fingertips, the weight of unspoken words settling in her chest.
The next day, the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves as Sarah walked up to her son Robert’s house.
Her steps were deliberate, her small gift bag swinging gently in her hand. She hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell.

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When Robert opened the door, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Mom? Hi! You should’ve called first. What brings you here?” he asked, stepping aside to let her in.
“I’m not staying long,” Sarah said softly, her smile warm but hesitant. She held out the bag. “I just wanted to drop off a little something for Violet.”
Robert took the bag, glancing at it curiously. “That’s so sweet of you, Mom. But didn’t you already give her that wonderful sweater? You’re spoiling her.”

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Sarah shifted her weight, her expression faltering. “I don’t think she liked the sweater…”
Robert frowned, his tone sharpening. “Why would you think that?”
She sighed, meeting his eyes. “I found it yesterday at the donation drive. Someone had thrown it away.”
His face darkened, and his jaw tightened. “What? She threw away your gift? That’s unacceptable.”
“Please, don’t overreact,” Sarah pleaded, placing a gentle hand on his arm. But her words didn’t stop Robert as he stormed into the house, his voice booming.

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“Violet! Get down here now!”
“What? Is it important?” Violet’s voice drifted down the stairs, her tone indifferent.
“Now!” Robert barked, his frustration evident.
Violet appeared at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed and her expression bored. “What’s the big deal?”
Robert didn’t waste a moment. “Where’s the sweater Grandma gave you?”
“In my room, I think. Why?” Violet replied with a shrug, her tone nonchalant.

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“It’s not in your room!” Robert’s voice grew louder. “It was at the donation drive for the homeless!”
Violet’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her surprise with defiance. “How do you know about that?”
“So, it’s true?” Robert shouted. “How could you? Apologize to your grandmother right now!”
“No way!” Violet snapped. “That sweater was ugly! I’d never wear it. At least now someone else can use it.”
Robert’s face turned red with anger.

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“Watch your mouth! Do you have any idea how much love she put into making that for you? It wasn’t just a sweater—it was a piece of her heart!”
Neither of them noticed Sarah quietly slipping out the door, her face a mix of sadness and understanding.
She placed the small gift bag on the porch before walking down the path and out of sight.
When the argument finally subsided, Robert and Violet noticed the bag. Violet bent down and opened it.
Inside was a soft, store-bought sweater in her favorite color. Her eyes widened in recognition.

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“This is the one I’ve been asking for all month! How did Grandma know?” she exclaimed, pulling it out.
Robert noticed the folded note tucked inside. He picked it up and began reading aloud.
“Dear Violet, I’m sorry the sweater wasn’t right for you. I asked your mom what you wanted and got you this instead. I hope you like it. Love, Grandma.”
Violet stood frozen, the new sweater clutched tightly to her chest. Her expression softened, guilt washing over her like a wave.

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Without a word, she turned and ran out the door.
Robert watched her go, his own frustration melting into quiet concern.
He sighed, hoping this was the moment Violet would finally understand what her grandmother’s love truly meant.
Sarah was sitting in her cozy living room, the soft click of her knitting needles creating a soothing rhythm as she worked on a new project.

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The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting warm patterns on the floor. She felt a sense of peace, her hands moving skillfully over the yarn.
The sudden chime of the doorbell broke her focus.
Startled, she set her knitting aside and made her way to the door, smoothing her sweater as she went.
When she opened it, there stood Violet, her face a mixture of determination and regret.
“Hi, Grandma,” Violet said softly, her usual teenage confidence replaced with something much more tender.
“Hello, dear,” Sarah replied, her voice warm but cautious. “How’s the sweater?”

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“It’s beautiful,” Violet said, her voice trembling. “Thank you so much.”
Sarah smiled gently but waited, sensing there was more Violet wanted to say.
“Grandma,” Violet began, her hands fidgeting nervously, “I came to say I’m sorry. I didn’t appreciate the first sweater you made me.
It was amazing, and I know how much love you put into it. I feel awful for what I did. If I could get it back, I would.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, her voice cracking with emotion. Sarah’s own eyes began to shine, and she reached out to gently touch Violet’s cheek.

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“Really?” Sarah asked, her voice full of warmth and understanding.
“Yes,” Violet said firmly, nodding.
Sarah’s smile widened as she walked to the small closet by the door. From the top shelf, she carefully pulled out the original sweater. Turning, she handed it to Violet, who stared at it in disbelief.
“You kept it?” Violet whispered, clutching it tightly.
“Of course,” Sarah said softly. “I thought one day you might want it back.”

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Violet’s face lit up, and she threw her arms around her grandmother, hugging her tightly. “Thank you, Grandma. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome, my dear,” Sarah whispered, holding her close. “All I want is for you to be happy.”
In that moment, both of them felt the unspoken bond between them grow stronger, their hearts lighter with understanding and love.
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: After my husband of twenty years left me, I struggled to find love again at forty-one. Desperate, I joined a dating site and met a charming man named Juan. I took a leap of faith and traveled to Mexico to surprise him, but it turned out to be the worst decision.
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.
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