I was tired of my family’s endless questions about my love life, so I had a wild plan. I found and brought a homeless man as my pretend fiancé to the holiday dinner. Everything seemed perfect until my mother’s reaction revealed a shocking connection between them.
I sat in my car, staring at the park entrance, dreading the upcoming weekend with my family. Every holiday visit was the same: my mom’s subtle looks, my dad’s hopeful smiles, and the never-ending barrage of questions.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
When are you getting married? Have you met someone?
It was exhausting, and the thought of another round of it was more than I could handle.
Suddenly, my eyes fell on a man sitting alone on a bench, huddled in a tattered coat. He looked worn out like life had handed him more than his share of troubles. His sad eyes and the deep lines on his face still made him look like a handsome man. That’s when it hit me. Crazy idea!
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Could he be my fiancé for the weekend?” I muttered to myself.
It was insane, but it could work. Anything to keep my family off my back. I got out of the car and walked over to him. He looked up, and we stared at each other.
“Hey,” I started, feeling awkward. “I know this is going to sound strange, but… would you be willing to pretend to be my fiancé? Just for a weekend. In return, I can offer you a warm place to stay, new clothes, and a nice meal.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze lingered on mine as if he were trying to understand why someone like me would make such an offer. Then, to my surprise, he nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
I was shocked at how easily he agreed. No questions. No hesitation. That made me a little nervous. But at that point, I didn’t care.
“Great,” I said. “Let’s get you ready for the weekend.”
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***
After we got back home, I handed the stranger some clothes that belonged to my ex. His things were still in my closet, and honestly, I couldn’t think of a better use for them.
“Here, these should fit you,” I said, offering a clean shirt and jeans. “You can take a shower if you’d like. I’ll make us some dinner.”
“Well, thanks,” he said with a small smile. “A shower sounds amazing.”
As he headed into the bathroom, I kept myself busy chopping vegetables and trying to ignore the nervousness building up inside me.
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Sharing my home with a stranger… Mia, what are you doing? You still don’t know his name!
When the stranger emerged from the bathroom, I heard the door creak and turned around. He stood there, a towel slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp, and to my surprise, he looked completely different.
“Well, that’s the best shower I’ve had in years,” he joked.
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The awkwardness I’d felt earlier seemed to vanish in an instant.
“Glad to hear it. I hope the dinner will be just as good.”
He glanced at the table, eyeing the plates I’d set out. “Smells incredible. I am Christopher, by the way.” He smiled at me, sitting down at the table.
Feeling a bit shy, I only replied, “Mia.”
As we sat down to eat, he took the first bite and nodded. “It’s perfect. Haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a long time.”
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We ate in comfortable silence for a bit, and then the conversation started flowing naturally.
“So,” I said, breaking the quiet. “Any favorite movies or books?”
He thought for a moment before answering. “I always loved old westerns. And books? Probably The Old Man and the Sea. Simple, but there’s something about it.”
“Really? Hemingway? I wouldn’t have guessed,” I said, a little surprised. “I thought you’d go for something darker.”
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He chuckled. “You’re not wrong, but sometimes, simple stories hit the hardest.”
“I get that.”
We spent the rest of the evening talking about random topics that made us laugh. He had a dry sense of humor that caught me off guard, and by the end of dinner, I felt surprisingly comfortable around him.
Late in the evening, I went back into the kitchen to grab a glass of water before bed. I noticed the dishes had already been washed and stacked neatly by the sink.
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“Did you… do the dishes?” I asked Christopher, peeking around the corner.
“Seemed like the least I could do.”
I smiled, genuinely touched by the gesture. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“Good night, Christopher.”
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***
The next day, everything moved quickly. We had one day left before the weekend with my family, and there was still so much to do.
First, we went to the hair salon. As the stylist worked, Christopher sat quietly, letting the transformation happen. I watched in amazement as his shaggy hair was trimmed into something neat and polished.
“This feels weird,” he muttered, looking at himself in the mirror.
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“Good weird or bad weird?” I teased.
“Definitely good,” he said with a smirk.
By the time we hit the shops to pick out new clothes, he was starting to look like a completely different person.
***
The holiday dinner started well enough. My parents were delighted to see Christopher, and I could almost feel my mother’s pride as she glanced at me, finally quieting her usual questions about my personal life.
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Christopher played his part perfectly—polite, attentive, and even charming when he spoke. I began to relax, thinking that maybe my crazy plan had worked.
“Christopher, right?” my mother asked, smiling brightly. “You look so familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before? On TV, maybe?”
She laughed lightly as if she had just made a harmless joke.
Christopher politely shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Maybe I just have one of those faces.”
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My father chuckled, clearly amused by my mother’s playful banter. “Well, if you’re on TV, I’ll have to start watching more closely.”
“So, Christopher,” Mom continued, “what did you do before you met Mia? Business, right?”
Christopher paused, glancing at my mother a bit too long before answering.
“Yes, business,” he said quietly, but there was something in his tone that felt different. “But everything changed for me about five years ago.”
My heart skipped a beat.
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Wait… This isn’t part of the plan.
I shot him a quick look, hoping he’d catch on, but he continued. “There was an accident. A car accident. It… changed my life completely.”
This definitely isn’t something we talked about.
My mother’s face went pale, her fingers clenched the tablecloth, knuckles turning white. Her expression darkened as if she had just pieced something together.
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“A car accident?” she echoed. Her words had sucked the warmth out of the room. “That’s… unfortunate.”
My father glanced at her. “Olivia, are you okay?”
But she wasn’t listening to him. “Not everyone walks away from accidents unscathed, do they?”
Christopher didn’t flinch, quietly sipping his wine.
“He’s not the kind of man you need,” Mom said bluntly, her voice trembling with anger.
I was taken aback. My father’s eyes widened in shock, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth.
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Christopher calmly set his glass down. “Excuse me. I’ll step outside for a moment.”
As he left, I turned to my mother. “What was that about? He didn’t do anything wrong!”
“There’s something you need to know, Mia. Five years ago, I was in a car accident,” she began, her voice lowering as though she were afraid someone else might hear.
“It was late at night, outside the city. There were no witnesses. The man I hit… was Christopher.”
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My heart dropped. “What?”
“Your Christopher,” she said bitterly, “was under the influence that night. I demanded he get tested, but he refused. No one saw what happened, so I chose not to take him to court. But Mia, you need to understand… He’s dangerous. You can’t trust him.”
Christopher? Under the influence?
Finally, I broke the silence. “I need to talk to him.”
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***
Christopher was leaning against the fence, staring off into the night. His expression was calm, but I could see the sadness in his eyes.
“Christopher,” I called softly.
He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “My last name is Hartman. Yes, I was in that accident. I was on sedatives that night—prescribed for my anxiety after my wife died. I was driving carefully.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, simple ring.
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“You’re the first woman I’ve met since my wife’s death that I’ve wanted to leave something with. This was hers. Thank you for dinner, Mia. It was… more than I deserved.”
He handed me the ring, then nodded slightly before walking away.
“Wait,” I whispered, but the words got lost in the cold night air.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the ring in my hand. When I walked back inside, my mother was waiting.
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“You didn’t tell me the whole truth, did you?” I demanded.
She sighed. “No. I didn’t. I was driving too fast that night. I… I was scared, Mia.”
“Is he worth chasing?”
The look in her eyes said it all. Yes. But it was already too late.
***
I couldn’t stop thinking about Christopher. His story, the accident, the weight he carried. It haunted me.
I placed an ad in the local paper, something simple but direct:
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“Christopher Hartman, if you see this, please meet me at the restaurant where we last had dinner. I eat there every evening. Mia.”
I felt a little foolish, not knowing if he’d ever read it or if he even wanted to see me again. But I had to try. There was too much left unsaid.
***
The day after placing the ad, I arrived at the restaurant early. As the minutes ticked by, doubt started creeping in.
Maybe he didn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t want to.
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But then, just as I was about to give up, the door opened. Christopher stepped in, scanning the room until they landed on me. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he walked over.
“I saw your ad,” he said, sitting down across from me.
We locked eyes for a moment before I spoke. “There’s so much I need to tell you. I found out about your past… about the accident… My mother finally admitted she was at fault, too. And…. she took your money!”
“I didn’t want to blame anyone. After my wife died… nothing mattered.”
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We sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be,” he said, his voice soft. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but still… I want to help. My mother wants to make things right. She’s returning what she took from you.”
We spent the rest of the evening talking. It wasn’t about pretending anymore. It was real. By the end of the night, I realized something. I had fallen in love with Christopher. And the best part? He felt the same.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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I Took in a Beggar with a Baby Because She Reminded Me of My Late Daughter – What She Did in My Home Shocked Me to the Core
At 75, my life was filled with silence and memories until I met Julia, a young mother with a baby, sitting alone by the roadside. What started as a simple act of kindness soon unraveled a story of desperation, betrayal, and an unexpected bond.
At 75, my life had grown quiet. The days seemed longer, each one blending into the next. I spent most of my time thinking about the past. My daughter, Gianna, had died three years ago, and not a day went by that I didn’t think of her.
An elderly woman drinking tea | Source: Pexels
My son, Sebastian, lived in another city. He was busy with work and his own family. He called from time to time, but his visits were rare. I missed him, but I understood. Life has a way of pulling us all in different directions.
My life passed quietly as I shopped for groceries and attended my weekly book club meetings.
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One afternoon, after picking up groceries, I saw her. A young woman was sitting by the side of the road, holding a baby wrapped in a thin, worn blanket. Her head was bowed, her face hidden, but something about her caught my attention.
Maybe it was her eyes when she finally looked up—filled with exhaustion and sadness—or maybe it was the way she held the baby so protectively. She reminded me of Gianna.
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I couldn’t just walk past her.
“Do you need help, dear?” I asked softly as I approached her.
She looked up at me, startled. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Nonsense,” I said. “You and the baby need a warm place. Come with me.”
A smiling elderly woman | Source: Pexels
She hesitated for a moment, but then slowly nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered again.
We walked back to my house in silence. The baby, a little boy, stirred in her arms, and she tightened her hold on him. I led them inside, offering her a seat on the couch while I warmed some tea. The house had been cold for so long, but now it felt different. It felt alive.
A sleeping baby | Source: Pexels
“What’s your name, dear?” I asked as I handed her a steaming cup.
“Julia,” she said, her voice still soft. “And this is Adam.”
I smiled at the baby, who blinked up at me with big, curious eyes. “He’s a handsome little boy,” I said, trying to make her feel comfortable.
“Thank you,” Julia said, a small smile playing on her lips for the first time. “He’s all I have.”
A woman with a baby in her arms | Source: Pexels
In the days that followed, Julia stayed with me. She found a job at a local grocery store, and I took care of Adam while she worked. He was a joy to have around. His little giggles and the pitter-patter of his feet brought a new energy to the house, one I hadn’t felt in years. It was as if life had returned.
“Thank you for letting us stay here,” Julia said one night after she put Adam to bed. She sat across from me at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea.
Smiling woman | Source: Pexels
“It’s been good for me,” I replied honestly. “The house was too quiet before you came.”
“I don’t know what we would’ve done without you,” she said, her eyes filled with gratitude.
As the weeks passed, we grew closer. Julia told me a little about her past. She mentioned her five-year-old daughter, Aurora, who was in a charity hospital.
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“She’s… not well,” Julia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we don’t talk about it much.” There was a sadness in her eyes whenever she spoke of Aurora, but I didn’t push. I figured she’d open up when she was ready.
Then, one afternoon, everything changed.
A smiling, thoughtful woman | Source: Pexels
Adam and I came home from my book club earlier than usual. Even though Adam usually slept through our little gatherings, today he kept crying and nothing could calm him down.
The house was quiet—too quiet. Julia was supposed to be at work, and Adam was with me, so I didn’t expect anything to be out of the ordinary. But when I walked into my bedroom with Adam in my arms, I froze.
Julia was standing by my dresser, pulling open the drawers. My jewelry, loose bills, even my mother’s old brooch were scattered on the floor.
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“Julia?” I gasped, my heart sinking.
She spun around, her face pale. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly. “I can explain,” she stammered, dropping everything she had in her hands.
“Why?” I whispered, unable to move, unable to believe what I was seeing.
“I didn’t mean to steal,” Julia cried, her hands shaking. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do. Aurora’s surgery… I can’t afford it, and I can’t lose her. I’ve already lost so much.”
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Her words hung in the air. I could hear the fear and the hopelessness, and despite my anger, I felt my heart soften. I understood her pain. The thought of her losing her child, just like I had lost mine, was unbearable. How could I turn away from her, knowing that kind of sorrow?
I knelt down beside her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Julia, I know you’re scared. I can’t imagine the fear you must be feeling right now, but you should have told me. I could’ve helped.”
A sad elderly woman | Source: Pexels
She looked up, her tear-streaked face full of remorse. “I was ashamed. You’ve done so much for me already, and I didn’t want to ask for more.”
“We’ll figure this out together,” I said softly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Julia wiped her tears, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re… you’re not angry?”
“I am,” I admitted. “But I understand why you did what you did. And I forgive you.”
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She stared at me for a moment, then threw her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder. “Thank you… thank you so much.”
That night, I lay in bed thinking. There was no way I could let Julia face this alone. Aurora needed that surgery, and if we worked together, maybe we could make it happen. The next morning, I woke up determined. I wasn’t just going to help Julia; I was going to rally the town.
A confident, elderly woman | Source: Pexels
I hadn’t been involved in the community for years, but in my younger days, I had been known for organizing events. I reached for the phone and started calling people. First, my old friends, then former students and neighbors.
Word spread quickly. Everyone remembered me from when I taught at the local school, and when I explained Julia’s situation, people were eager to help.
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“I’ve got some extra things I can donate for an auction,” one of my former students, Maria, said. “We could hold it at the community center.”
“I’ll bake pies for the fundraiser,” said Mrs. Ellison from down the street. “People always love my apple pies.”
“We could put on a community play,” suggested David, an old friend who worked with the local theater group. “Maybe sell tickets to raise more money.”
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On the day of the fundraiser, the community center was buzzing with activity. I watched in awe as people from all walks of life came together to help Julia and Aurora. The auction went better than expected, with people bidding generously on everything from homemade quilts to antique vases.
The bake sale was a hit, too—Mrs. Ellison’s pies sold out in less than an hour.
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When the play began, I saw Julia sitting in the front row, her eyes filled with tears of gratitude. She glanced at me from across the room, mouthing the words, “Thank you.”
I smiled, my heart swelling with pride. This wasn’t just about raising money—it was about bringing the community together, reminding me that I still had a place in this world. We raised every penny needed for Aurora’s surgery.
A smiling elderly woman | Source: Pexels
The day of the surgery was nerve-wracking. I sat with Julia in the hospital, holding her hand as we waited. “She’s going to be okay,” I whispered, more for myself than for her. In that moment, I thought of Gianna, of the long nights I’d spent at her bedside. The waiting, the praying. I squeezed Julia’s hand tighter.
Hours passed, and finally, the doctor came out with a smile. “The surgery was a success,” he said. “Aurora’s going to be fine.”
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Julia collapsed into my arms, sobbing with relief. “Thank you… I don’t know how to ever repay you.”
“You don’t need to repay me,” I said, brushing her hair away from her tear-streaked face. “You’ve already given me so much. You’ve brought life back into my home.”
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After the surgery, Julia and the children came back to my house. The place was no longer quiet and empty. Adam’s laughter echoed through the halls, and Aurora’s sweet voice filled the air. Toys were scattered across the living room, and the once-silent rooms were now full of life and love.
One evening, as we sat together at the dinner table, I looked at Julia, Aurora, and Adam, feeling something I hadn’t felt in years—contentment.
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“Stay,” I said suddenly. Julia looked at me, surprised. “Stay here. You and the kids. This house needs noise. It needs life. You’ve become like family.”
Julia’s eyes filled with tears again. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
A smiling woman signing a heart with her hands | Source: Unsplash
And just like that, the house wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of laughter, love, and the warmth of a new family bound not by blood, but by something much stronger.
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.
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