Emily
I was heading home from yet another failed date, and to make matters worse, I was stuck on the bus because my date had picked me up from home, and, of course, my phone decided to die right when I needed it most.
No way to call a cab or escape. I sat there, fuming, muttering every insult I could think of under my breath. Honestly, at this point, I was starting to accept the bitter truth—I might never find my significant other.
At 34, love always felt like something that happened to other people, not me.
As I stared out the window, already planning to adopt a dog from the shelter and just give up on dating altogether, a drunk man stumbled onto the bus. My heart sank as he swayed toward me. Not today. Please. I quickly moved to another seat, still cursing the universe for making my bad day even worse.
I ended up behind two women—one with fiery red hair, the other wearing a ridiculous grandma-style hat. They were about my age, chatting in low but sharp tones. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when your day is already a mess, overhearing other people’s drama almost feels like free entertainment.
Except this wasn’t entertainment.
“I’m so tired of her,” Redhead snapped. “Why does his daughter have to live with us? She ruins everything.”
Grandma-Hat tilted her head. “Why not just send her to her mother?”
Redhead sighed dramatically. “Her mom’s in the hospital. I think… in a coma.”
“How old is the girl?”
“Nine. And honestly, she’s in the way. Jim is MY boyfriend. I want him to myself. That kid ruins everything.”
I froze. Who talks about a child like that?
But Redhead wasn’t finished. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “I have a plan. I’ll make Jim think she stole from him. Then he’ll have no choice but to send her away.”
Grandma-Hat blinked. “And where would she go?”
Redhead shrugged, indifferent. “Not my problem. As long as she’s gone, Jim is mine.”
My stomach twisted. I wasn’t usually the type to intervene in other people’s business—but this? This was cruel. And if that little girl had been on the bus, I swear I would’ve taken her hand and run.
So when Redhead got off, I followed her.
She walked to a cozy little house with a neat garden. A man—handsome, tired-looking—opened the door. He smiled as she kissed him deeply. He had no idea.
I stood frozen on the sidewalk. Was I insane for considering knocking on a stranger’s door? Maybe. But I couldn’t walk away.
Jim
Carla came home unusually cheerful that evening, even offering to make Michelle’s favorite dinner. I wanted to believe she was warming up to my daughter, but deep down, I knew better.
When a knock sounded at the door, I assumed it was nothing. But the woman standing there was different—nervous, determined.
“Are you Jim?” she asked.
“Yes…”
“My name’s Emily. I overheard your girlfriend and her friend on the bus. She’s planning to frame your daughter for theft so you’ll send her away.”
I almost laughed—it sounded absurd. But then Emily mentioned the hat. Sandra. Carla’s coworker.
“Look,” I said firmly, “I’d never kick Michelle out. Goodnight.” I started to close the door.
“Just trust me!” she called. Her eyes were pleading.
And then, that night, the nightmare unfolded exactly as she’d said.
The safe was emptied. Carla insisted I check Michelle’s room. And there it was—cash and jewelry hidden in her dollhouse.
Carla folded her arms, smug. “We can’t keep her here, Jim. She has to go.”
The words sliced me in half. But in that moment, Emily’s warning echoed louder than Carla’s lies.
Emily
When Jim showed up at my door, I almost panicked. What had I done? But then he said the words that made my blood boil.
“She actually framed Michelle.”
I nearly shouted in triumph. “I knew it!”
Jim ran a hand through his hair. “Now she wants me to send Michelle to a boarding school. She had brochures ready.”
“What a witch,” I blurted out. Then, embarrassed, I added, “Sorry. She’s your girlfriend.”
Jim gave me a tired smile. “Not for long.”
That’s when I told him my plan. It was bold, maybe even reckless—but it might just expose Carla for who she really was.
Jim
The next evening, I told Carla I’d sent Michelle away. I watched as a smile flickered across her lips before she covered it with feigned sympathy.
Finally, she said smoothly, “Now we can have our happy life. Just the two of us.”
I nodded, then dropped the bait. “But how could Michelle know the safe code?”
Carla waved it off. “She must’ve seen you enter it.”
Minutes later, as Emily predicted, Carla was on the phone with Sandra, gloating. “He fell for it! That brat is gone for good.”
That was the last straw.
“You have one hour to pack and leave,” I said, stepping into the kitchen.
Carla’s face drained of color. “Jim, wait, you don’t understand—”
“One hour,” I repeated, and walked out.
Emily
While Jim confronted Carla, I stayed with Michelle. She was bright, perceptive, and so much stronger than her years.
“Dad, Emily is really cool,” Michelle whispered later, tugging at his sleeve. “You should ask her on a date.”
I flushed, suddenly feeling like a teenager.
Jim met my eyes, smiling softly. “What do you say?”
I looked at Michelle, then back at him. “Do you like amusement parks?” I asked.
Michelle’s face lit up. “Yes!!”
We all laughed, and for the first time in years, I felt something I’d almost given up on—hope.
