A mysterious van showed up across the street one day and never left. I told myself it wasn’t my business to snoop. But sometimes, the things we ignore are the ones meant to find us. I just didn’t know how much that van would change everything… until I heard a baby crying inside one night.
I’m Catherine, 32, a single mom to twin 13-year-old twin daughters… and someone who clawed her way up from nothing. People see my nice house in Willow Brook now and assume I’ve always had it together. They don’t see the terrified 18-year-old girl who once had nowhere to go.
A woman looking through the window | Source: Pexels
“Mom, we need more milk,” Phoebe called from the kitchen one Tuesday evening as I kicked off my heels by the front door.
“And can Jasmine come over this weekend?” Chloe added, not looking up from her phone.
I dropped my work bag with a thud. “Hello to you too, my precious dolls who I haven’t seen all day.”
The twins exchanged that look, the one that said they were humoring me, before both mumbling their hellos.
I smiled despite my exhaustion. My girls were growing up so fast… both with their father’s golden curls and my stubbornness. I’d done everything for them, and somehow, we made it.
Twin teenage sisters | Source: Pexels
“Yes to milk, maybe to Jasmine!” I said, heading to the kitchen. “Let me get dinner started first.”
That’s when I noticed it through the window—a faded red minivan parked directly across the street. It was a strange spot. Nobody ever parked there.
“Hey girls, do either of you know whose van that is?” I gestured out the window.
Phoebe shrugged. “It’s been there since morning. Thought it was Mrs. Carter’s nephew visiting.”
A red vintage minivan parked on a barren lawn | Source: Pexels
I frowned but let it go. In our neighborhood, everyone generally minded their own business… a policy I’d appreciated plenty of times over the years.
“Just seemed odd,” I said, turning back to the pantry.
But over the next few weeks, the minivan became a quiet obsession. It never moved. Nobody got in or out whenever I noticed. The windows were tinted just enough that you couldn’t see inside. I even asked Mrs. Carter about her nephew.
“Don’t have one,” she replied, squinting across at the mysterious vehicle. “Thought it belonged to your friend.”
“Not mine,” I said.
Days passed and the van remained.
Close-up shot of a red van | Source: Pexels
Sleep had been my enemy since the girls were babies. That night, exactly four weeks after I’d first noticed the van, insomnia hit hard again.
At 2 a.m., I gave up on sleep and decided a walk might help. The neighborhood was silent as I slipped out in sweatpants and a hoodie. The spring air held a chill that made me hug myself as I walked.
Thirteen years ago, I’d walked neighborhoods like this one… nicer neighborhoods where I didn’t belong. I still remember pushing a second-hand double stroller, desperately trying to get the newborn twins to sleep while I had nowhere to go.
“You don’t know how lucky you are!” I whispered to my sleeping street.
A lonely woman walking on the street at night | Source: Unsplash
I was rounding the block back toward home when I passed the minivan again and stopped dead in my tracks.
A cry—unmistakably a baby’s cry—was coming from inside.
I froze, my heart suddenly hammering. The cry came again, followed by a soft shushing sound. Someone was in there.
Before I could think better of it, I approached the van and knocked gently on the window.
“Hello? Are you okay in there?”
A baby crying | Source: Pixabay
Silence fell instantly. Then rustling. The side door slid open just a crack, and a young woman’s face appeared. She looked pale, exhausted, and absolutely terrified.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t call anyone.”
Her eyes were red and puffy. In her arms was a baby girl, couldn’t have been more than six months old. The little one was letting out the faintest, broken whimper.
“I’m not calling anyone,” I said, raising my hands slightly. “My name’s Catherine. I live right there.” I pointed to my house.
She hesitated, then opened the door a bit wider. The inside of the van was neat but obviously lived-in, adorned with a makeshift bed, a small cooler, and clothes neatly folded in plastic bins.
A van interior | Source: Pexels
“I’m Albina,” she finally said. “This is Kelly.”
The baby looked up at me with huge, dark eyes that were all too familiar. I’d seen those same scared, uncertain eyes in the mirror 13 years ago.
“How long have you been living here?”
“About a month. I move around…. and try not to stay in one place too long.”
The spring breeze picked up, and she shivered. That did it for me.
“Come with me,” I said. “It’s too cold for the baby out here.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. Just for tonight. No strings, no calls to anyone. Just a warm place to sleep and maybe a decent meal.”
A mother holding her baby | Source: Pexels
Albina looked at me like I was offering her the moon. “Why would you help us?”
I thought about giving her some line about being a good neighbor, but something in her eyes demanded honesty.
“Because thirteen years ago, I was you. And someone helped me.”
***
My kitchen felt too bright after the darkness outside. Albina sat rigidly on the couch, Kelly dozing against her shoulder as I warmed up leftover chicken soup.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, nodding toward the baby.
Albina’s face softened. “She’s everything.”
“How old?”
“Seven months next week.”
An emotional mother holding her baby close | Source: Pexels
I placed a bowl of soup in front of her. She hesitated, then shifted Kelly to one arm and picked up the spoon with her free hand. She ate like someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days.
“Where’s her dad?”
Albina’s jaw tightened. “Gone. The second I told him I was pregnant.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Mine too.”
Her eyes met mine, surprised. “You have kids?”
“Twin girls. Thirteen now.” I smiled slightly. “They’re sleeping upstairs. Phoebe and Chloe.”
“Alone? Just you?”
“Just me. Always has been.”
A depressed woman | Source: Pexels
Albina looked down at her soup. “I don’t know how you did it with two children.”
“Barely,” I admitted. “We were homeless for a while. Living in my car until it got repossessed. Then shelters. Crashing on acquaintances’ couches. It was… rough.”
“That’s where I’m headed,” she whispered. “I had to leave my apartment last month when I couldn’t pay the rent. Dad left me this van when he died last year. It’s all I have left.”
She gestured to a small sewing kit on the table. “I make baby clothes. Sell them at the flea market on weekends. It’s not much, but…”
“But it’s something,” I finished for her.
A vintage sewing kit on the table | Source: Pexels
“I’m scared they’ll take her,” Albina said, her voice cracking as tears welled up in her eyes. “If anyone official finds out we’re living in a van… they’ll say I can’t provide for her.”
I reached across the table on impulse and squeezed her hand. “It’s not gonna happen. Not on my watch.”
Sometime after midnight, my twins discovered our guests.
“Mom?” Phoebe stood in the kitchen doorway, looking confused. “There’s a baby in the guest room.”
Albina had finally fallen asleep, Kelly tucked beside her on the bed.
I sighed. “Come here, you two. We need to talk.”
Twin sisters holding hands and standing in the hallway | Source: Pexels
The girls sat across from me at the kitchen table, still half-asleep but curious.
“That’s Albina and Kelly,” I explained. “They needed a place to stay tonight.”
“Why?” Chloe asked.
I took a deep breath. “Because they’ve been living in that van across the street.”
Their eyes widened.
“Living there?” Phoebe echoed. “Like… actually living?”
“Yes. Just like we lived in our old car for a while after your dad left.”
The twins exchanged looks. We didn’t talk about those days often.
Two little girls sitting in a car trunk | Source: Freepik
“You never told us it was that bad,” Chloe said, her eyes downcast.
“You were babies. You don’t remember. And I’ve tried very hard to forget.”
“What happens to them now?” Phoebe interrupted.
I looked at these amazing young ladies I’d somehow raised despite everything and felt a certainty settle over me.
“Do you remember Ms. Iris?”
They both nodded. Ms. Iris was practically family and the kind older woman who’d given me my first real chance.
“She found me crying outside the diner where she worked. Two babies, no home, no hope. And you know what she did? She hired me on the spot. Let us stay in her spare room. Watched you two while I took night classes.”
An older woman standing outside a store | Source: Pexels
I looked toward the guest room where Albina and Kelly slept. “Someone did that for us once. Maybe it’s our turn now.”
The next morning, I called in sick for the first time in three years.
“You sure about this?” Albina asked, bouncing Kelly on her hip as I made pancakes. The twins had already left for school, surprisingly excited about our new guests.
“About pancakes? Definitely. About you staying here? Very much.”
“You don’t even know me.”
I flipped a pancake. “I know enough. I know you’re a good mom. I can see it.”
A woman making pancakes | Source: Pexels
Albina’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m trying so hard.”
“That’s all any of us can do.” I set a plate in front of her. “Now eat. Then show me these baby clothes you make.”
Her designs were beautiful and simple but unique. Delicate embroidery on onesies, handmade bonnets, tiny cardigans… all made with obvious care despite her limited resources.
“Albina, these are amazing,” I said, examining a tiny dress. “You should be selling these online, not just at flea markets.”
A woman with folded baby clothes | Source: Pexels
She shrugged. “Online? I don’t even know where to start.”
I smiled. “Lucky for you, e-commerce marketing is literally my job.”
***
It’s been four years since that night. Four years since I heard a baby crying and found my past sitting in a minivan across the street.
Kelly often runs through my living room now, a whirlwind of curls and laughter at four years old. “Auntie Cathy! Look what I drew!”
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” I’d tell her, taking the colorful scribble.
A little girl flaunting her drawing | Source: Freepik
One day, Albina visited with a laptop under her arm. “Guess who just got an order from that boutique in Vancouver?”
“No way! That’s international shipping now!” I high-fived her.
“Albina’s Little Blessings” has grown from a desperate mother’s side hustle into a thriving business. Albina’s handmade children’s clothes now ship nationwide, and she has three part-time employees helping with production.
They moved into their own apartment two years ago, though Kelly still has regular sleepovers with her “aunties” Phoebe and Chloe when they’re home from school.
Sometimes I look at Albina and can hardly believe she’s the same frightened young woman I found in that van.
A woman sewing clothes | Source: Pexels
“You saved us,” she told me once.
But that’s not quite right. What I did was simple: I recognized myself in her story and refused to walk away. I broke the cycle that might have trapped another young mother in the same desperation I once knew.
That minivan is long gone now. Albina sold it last year and used the money to expand her business. But sometimes when I can’t sleep, I still find myself looking out my window at that empty spot across the street… the spot where everything changed.
A woman looking out the window | Source: Pexels
Not every cry in the night needs to go unanswered. Not every struggle needs to be faced alone. Sometimes, the kindness of a stranger is all it takes to rewrite a story.
And sometimes, the people we help end up helping us heal parts of ourselves we didn’t even know were still broken.
Lending a helping hand | Source: Pexels
5 Unforgettable Tales of the Worst Bridezillas
What makes a bride turn into a bridezilla? Is it the nervousness and anxious thoughts that make brides lose their cool, or do they get angry because of other things?
Every woman wants her wedding day to be perfect, but when that stress gets intense, the brides either flip out or, let’s be real, their true colors start to show. Here are stories from five folks on Reddit who’ve witnessed some of the most jaw-dropping bridezilla moments.
Comments have been edited for clarity and grammar.
1. My Best Friend’s Wedding
u/ajlawford: I had a silent bridezilla. She was my best friend of 15 years and didn’t ask for much during the wedding planning as there were only two months between the engagement and the wedding day.
There was no bachelorette party, dress shopping, gift exchanges, or in-person meetups. We lived two hours away, but she didn’t want my input.
A woman talking to another woman | Source: Shutterstock
She wanted me to buy a dress, look pretty, and attend her wedding. I thought, “OK, whatever you want. You’re my best friend, and I’m excited you are getting married.”
She didn’t even let me help with her hair and makeup on the wedding day. Instead, she just asked me to focus on my hair and makeup. She didn’t trust me to do it well enough because I had short hair. Okay, fine. It’s your day, whatever.
Everything went well until the bride got her sister to call me. During the two-hour-long call, the bride’s sister criticized my every move throughout the wedding, saying that I should never have accepted to be a bridesmaid if I didn’t want to participate.
She also reviewed my Facebook profile to note what I had spent my money on (for example, I posted about joining a bowling league for fun). She said I should have spent that money on the wedding.
An angry woman talking on her phone | Source: Shutterstock
The wedding was two days after Christmas, and her family didn’t even celebrate Christmas that year because of the wedding.
Meanwhile, I was criticized for not spending more time with her, even though I traveled three hours by train the day after Christmas to hang with her the night before her wedding.
Apparently, I should have stayed the night of the wedding to hang with the other two bridesmaids, but I opted to drive home with my boyfriend as I needed to work.
Initially, the bride said she would pay for my makeup on the wedding day, but she changed her mind two weeks before the event.
She asked me to drive for two hours and buy an expensive makeup brand. Despite knowing I was broke after Christmas shopping, I accepted her wish and purchased the makeup. However, she still thought I had an attitude about this.
Two women arguing | Source: Shutterstock
I was also criticized for not giving a gift, although the bride said, “Being a bridesmaid was gift enough.”
After these events, the bride stopped talking to me and blocked me on Facebook. After months of being mistreated, I finally cut my best friend and her sister out of my life.
The last time I saw either of them was the wedding day, which was five years ago. I never even got to see the wedding photos. It’s so sad to see long-term friendships ending over nothing.
She should have told me about her expectations instead of expecting me to guess them and then judge me for not meeting her demands. She also should have talked to me directly instead of involving her sister.
2. She Was Mean as Hell
u/sojadedblond: A friend took out a $7500 loan for her wedding. Okay, that was not too bad. It was workable and sounded pretty reasonable. Then, she asked her fiancé to take out a $25,000 loan. (She forced him by saying she’d leave him if he didn’t.)
A woman arguing with a man | Source: Shutterstock
He had much better credit and got the loan. Then, my friend begged his parents to pay for their honeymoon while they had no idea she had asked their son to take out a loan.
They thought her parents were paying for a modest outside wedding at a local garden, and she repeatedly lied to them until a few weeks before the wedding. She kept threatening to leave her fiancé if he didn’t do things as she wanted them done.
Anyway, his parents were so happy to pay for a cruise (a nice Alaskan cruise) for their honeymoon, but that wasn’t enough for her.
She then lied to her parents, saying that his parents were only giving them $250 for the honeymoon. Her parents were shocked as they were paying for the wedding and reception and thought the groom’s family would at least pay for some of the honeymoon.
Two champagne glasses | Source: Unsplash
They encouraged her to get a better job (she worked 20 hours a week as a receptionist at a nail salon) or to at least go full-time at her current job, but she flat-out refused, saying she had so much to do in planning for the wedding/honeymoon, etc. She was an absolute nightmare.
She and I hadn’t talked since high school (we weren’t very close, more like acquaintances), and she had gotten my number from a mutual friend to call and ask if I’d sing at her wedding.
During that phone call, she told me about everything that happened. She added that she wanted her fiancé to take off two and a half weeks instead of the nine days he’d already taken.
When she asked me what she should do about the honeymoon, I told her she was being a little unreasonable and very demanding with people.
I said it gently and kindly. I wasn’t just like, “Wow, you’re being the worst person ever right now, and your fiancé is really stupid to marry you for a lifetime.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock
I said, “It seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on everyone around you to do things your way and only your way. This is Evan’s wedding, too. Maybe ask him what he’d like. Planning this together instead of you alone can be much more fun. You guys will be together for a lifetime, so putting this much stress on everyone, yourself included, just makes things so much harder than they have to be.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “Uh, okay, I deserve this wedding, and Evan will give me what I want. I don’t want you to sing at the wedding. You’re so mean for telling me I don’t deserve a beautiful wedding!”
When I tried to explain that I thought she could have a gorgeous wedding, just with less stress and anxiety, she said, “You’re just like everyone else. You don’t want me to be happy! My dad keeps telling me to get a better job, and Evan fought to get the loan, and you saying this makes me want to give up!”
After that, she burst into hysterical tears and hung up. It was bizarre. She was like that in high school: very dramatic, mean, and selfish. However, I don’t remember her being that crazy and delusional. They got divorced 14 months after the wedding.
3. The Bridezilla Tried to Scam the Bridesmaids
u/ShamedShamingShamer: Several years ago, a friend asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. There were six bridesmaids and one maid of honor (MOH).
Women sitting together | Source: Shutterstock
The bride had picked out her dress already, one for the MOH and one each for the bridesmaids. The dresses were lovely but a bit expensive at $400 each.
Two bridesmaids, including me, were still in college, and the rest had graduated. Since I was still studying, my budget was super tight.
Once the bride picked the dresses for us, she asked the MOH to coordinate with us for the fittings. The MOH told us she would pay for our dresses using her credit card because she wanted Air Miles. She asked us to pay her directly and said we could repay her in installments if needed (I definitely needed to). We all agreed.
All the bridesmaids picked their dresses together, but I couldn’t join them because of my exams. As a result, I decided to go myself the following week.
The MOH said she would pay for mine on the group trip but to call her if there were any issues with the dress. She said she would handle it.
Wedding dresses hanging in a shop | Source: Pexels
When I tried the dress at the shop, it looked perfect, and I was happy. The shop owner went to attend to another client while I was changing back into my clothes, but she confirmed that we were all set.
As I was walking out of the door, a shop employee yelled, “Hey! That will be $200!” I was stunned and totally mortified. I apologized and explained how I thought the MOH had paid for it the weekend before.
The shop owner immediately rushed towards us, diffusing the situation by confirming that the MOH had already paid for the dress. When I turned to leave the store, I realized the shop owner had said $200 and not $400.
Long story short, the dress was only for $200. When I confronted the MOH about it, she spilled the beans.
A shocked woman | Source: Shutterstock
Apparently, the bride and MOH plotted together to charge us double to help pay for the bride’s dress. I let the rest of the bridesmaids know, and four of us dropped out of the wedding immediately.
4. The Last-Minute Floral Fiasco
u/Haceldama: I am a florist, and we once had a bridezilla visit our shop. The bride came with her mother at 9 a.m.
They wanted to order a bridal bouquet, a mother-of-the-bride Cattleya orchid corsage, a boutonniere for the groom, and six smaller ones for the groomsmen.
The wedding was scheduled for noon, and they gave us only three hours to fulfill their order. They wanted everything ready by the time they were done with their makeup appointment at the beauty parlor a few doors down.
A flower shop | Source: Pexels
The bride was flipping through the FTD sample book and pointing out the style and flowers she wanted. She wanted to order garden roses with long sweeping trails of stephanotis and variegated ivy, all three of which would require at least a week’s advanced order with our suppliers.
The bride was shocked when we told her we didn’t always carry extremely expensive and highly perishable flowers. My boss told them that since they didn’t place an order beforehand, they would be limited to what we had in stock and simple styles that could be assembled quickly.
The bride and her mom kept pointing at the book and arguing that we should have those specific flowers in stock. My boss eventually took the book off the desk and tossed it behind the counter.
The bride vacillated between tears and petulant whining that we would ruin her big day. My boss, who disliked brides in general, told her she had ruined her day by not ordering flowers before her wedding day.
A sad bride sitting in a room | Source: Shutterstock
The mom tried chewing out my boss for lacking customer service skills. My boss told her she was welcome to go down the street to another florist and ask their flower department to make their order with whatever they had in stock.
The mom said she’d do just that and reassured the bride that she’d have her flowers done by the time her appointment was over. Both women stormed out.
I figured that was that, but my boss told me and the other girl to start on six simple dendrobium orchid bouts. Meanwhile, she threw together a ribbon-wrapped bridal bouquet with white roses nearly past their prime.
Twenty minutes later, the bride’s mother slunk back in and meekly asked if we could still assemble what they needed. We did. We also charged her a huge rush fee.
5. The Bridezilla Meets Karma
u/[deleted]: My friend called me one day and asked me to be her maid of honor. At first, I was thrilled. But then things took a bizarre turn.
Two women smiling at each other | Source: Pexels
She started oddly, asking me to dye my hair blonde, then demanded $1000 for her bachelorette. I was shocked but things worsened when she insisted I lose 10 pounds. I was taken aback by her demand.
Fuming, I thought about teaching her a lesson. But before I could do anything, karma intervened.
A week after our heated conversation, just a day before her wedding, she called me in a panic. “WHAT DID YOU DO??? I just got a call from my bank!” she said.
It turned out that her bank had frozen her account due to suspicious activity. In her pre-wedding frenzy, she had made so many extravagant purchases that the bank suspected fraud.
A bride screaming at her phone | Source: Shutterstock
One of my exes had his account frozen once and she needed advice as to what I’d done to help my ex-boyfriend. I worked as a banker back then. I refused to help her and hung up.
Have you ever seen a bride throw tantrums and get too demanding with her family and friends? Share your experience with us in the comments section.
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