I thought my marriage was solid until my MIL invited my husband’s ex to his birthday. Before I could react, my mom set me up with mine. I walked into a disaster I never saw coming—and that was just the beginning.
I always thought Alex and I had the perfect balance in our marriage. We weren’t one of those couples who fought over scattered socks or a coffee cup left on the table.
Our arguments never lasted more than an hour, and even then, they felt more like a warm-up for new jokes.
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I had my own café—a small, cozy place where people could sit with a book, enjoy a homemade dessert, and escape the city’s chaos. Alex sometimes joked that my cappuccinos would bankrupt him, I knew he was proud of me.
Everything was great… until he came home with a strange smile one day.
I was scrolling through my phone when he sat down next to me and, almost proudly, announced:
“You won’t believe who Mom and I ran into today while we were out.”
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By “out,” he meant dragging his mother around to buy things she absolutely didn’t need—a monthly ritual of theirs. A mother-and-son tradition.
Sounds nice, right?
And it would be… if MIL, Cynthia, didn’t turn those shopping trips into a full-scale circus performance, juggling antique trinkets that would later gather dust in her china cabinet.
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But Alex endured it all. Because, well, it was Mom.
“Aliens?” I smiled, pulling myself out of my thoughts about Cynthia.
“Amanda.”
My fingers froze over the screen. I slowly lifted my gaze.
“That Amanda?”
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“Yeah.”
Amanda. His ex. The love of his youth. The girl who once thought she was “the one and only” in his life.
“Where did you run into her?”
“At a café.”
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It was an unpleasant coincidence, but I exhaled. It happens. Just a random encounter.
“And how was the coffee?” I asked, lacing my voice with sarcasm.
“Oh, amazing! Because it was your café.”
“Oh, I’m so glad Amanda liked it. Makes opening it all worthwhile.”
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He nodded, completely missing my point.
“Oh, Mom was thrilled! They hadn’t seen each other in so long. And, well…”
“And what?”
“She invited her to my Birthday party.”
Fantastic. Just what I needed. Why couldn’t life stay the way it is?
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“Oh, your mother is really on fire.”
“Babe, you’re not jealous, are you?”
The tea had already boiled over in my hand.
“Of course not. And what did you say to that?”
“Well… I couldn’t exactly say no. That would’ve been rude.”
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I wanted to scream: And did you think about asking ME?!”
But instead, I silently exhaled, swallowing the mix of emotions brewing inside me.
“Babe, don’t worry so much. It’s just a party. Just a guest.”
Is he really that naive, or is he just pretending?
I had a bad feeling about that. And, as it would turn out later, I was absolutely right.
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***
Alex’s birthday was always an event. Not because he cared much about celebrating. He would have been pleased with a quiet dinner and a slice of cake.
No, the real mastermind behind these annual extravaganzas was Cynthia, his mother.
For her, that was a grand showcase. A carefully curated spectacle. A chance to prove to the world she could throw a party magnificent.
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I tried to prepare myself mentally, but nothing could have truly prepared me for what I saw when I stepped into the backyard.
There she was. Amanda.
She looked even better than I remembered. Moreover, she was seamlessly integrated into the party as if she had never left Alex’s life.
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They were standing side by side in front of a giant birthday cake.
What’s happening?
And then I saw the contest.
Of course, Cynthia had organized some ridiculous, over-the-top game. Alex and Amanda were paired in a “Who Can Eat Their Cake Faster Without Using Their Hands?” challenge.
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I wanted to turn away. But I couldn’t.
Amanda laughed too hard, tilting her head down as Alex tried to beat her to the first bite. The whole thing looked… ridiculously playful.
“Oh, isn’t that adorable?” someone cooed behind me.
I turned my head slowly. It was my mother. Perfect timing.
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“Adorable?” I repeated, barely concealing my irritation.
“Well, they do look very… comfortable together.”
I swallowed my retort.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I ran into someone interesting the other day.”
I didn’t care. I didn’t want to care. But she knew me too well.
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“Who?”
“Nick.”
I turned my head fully toward her.
“You mean my ex?”
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“Oh, don’t look so shocked, sweetheart.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You know, he’s doing exceptionally well these days. Owns his own company. Has some high-profile clients. And…”
“Please tell me you didn’t invite him to this party.”
She laughed. “Of course not! That would be inappropriate.”
I exhaled in relief.
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“But,” she added, too casually, “he’s actually looking for a place to host networking events for his clients. And I thought, you know… your café might be perfect.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying—maybe you should meet with him. Discuss business. Make a smart move for your café.”
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“I don’t need his help.”
“Are you sure? I mean, look at Alex.”
I didn’t want to. But I did. And there it was: Amanda, laughing with my husband, holding a huge black cake I’d ordered for him.
I felt my irritation spike to a dangerous level.
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I turned back to my mother, my voice suddenly much calmer than I felt.
“You know what? Fine. Set up the meeting.”
“Oh, wonderful! I knew you’d come around.”
I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But if Alex wanted to play that game, I’d play it too.
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***
I spent the following day mentally preparing myself for meeting with Nick.
I told myself it was strictly business. I reminded myself that I wasn’t doing this to prove a point.
I assured myself I wasn’t being petty or reacting emotionally to Amanda’s little flirtation circus at Alex’s birthday party.
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At least, that’s what I kept repeating like a mantra as I walked into the restaurant. And then I saw Nick. Smiling. Relaxed. Effortlessly confident in that way that used to drive me crazy years ago.
And suddenly, I wasn’t so sure about my mantra anymore. Damn it.
“Wow,” he said, giving me an appreciative once-over. “You look amazing.”
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“Thanks. You, uh… still dress like a business magazine cover.”
He chuckled.
“Well, you know me. Always selling something.”
I sat across from him, trying to shake off the weird nostalgia and irritation that came with seeing him again.
He poured us both some tea and said, “So. Tell me about your café.”
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I started explaining my vision, how I wanted to make the café a hub for creative entrepreneurs, and how I planned to add live events, poetry readings, networking nights…
“Sounds incredible.”
I stopped mid-sentence. There was a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“What?” I asked.
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“You. You’re still the same. Passionate. Determined. Always thinking big.”
“Well, some things don’t change.”
“Some do.”
I was about to steer the conversation back to strictly professional territory when a familiar voice cut through the restaurant noise like a knife.
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“Wow. Well, isn’t this cozy?”
I turned my head. There, standing just inside the restaurant entrance, were Alex and Amanda. My stomach dropped. Alex’s gaze flickered from me to Nick.
“Oh, what a crazy coincidence!” Amanda said, placing a hand on Alex’s arm. “You two know each other, right?”
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I stood up so fast that my chair nearly toppled over. Apparently enjoying the drama, Nick leaned back in his chair with a relaxed grin.
“Oh, we’re more than familiar.”
“You’re looking good, man,” he told Alex. “Married life must be treating you well.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “It was. Until I walked in and saw my wife on what looked like a date.”
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“Oh, please! If anyone’s on a date here, it’s you two!” I gestured at Amanda.
She clutched her chest.
“Me? Oh, no, no, I’m just supporting Alex. As a friend.”
Alex let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, you’re a real saint, Amanda.”
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Nick clapped his hands together, clearly having the time of his life. “Well, this just got interesting.”
I whipped back around to face him.
“Nick, shut up.”
Amanda huffed. “You don’t need to be so defensive, darling. It’s not like you’re the only one who can enjoy an old friend’s company.”
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Oh. Oh, she did NOT just say that.
Without thinking, I grabbed my glass of orange juice and flung it directly at Amanda’s expensive silk blouse. She gasped, horrified.
Nick let out a loud laugh. Alex picked up his glass of water and threw it straight at Nick. Nick spluttered, soaking wet, and shot to his feet.
“Oh, you wanna play, buddy?” he said, reaching for the sauce bottle on the table.
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“DON’T YOU DARE…” I started.
Too late. Before I could blink, barbecue sauce was flying through the air. The following five seconds were a complete disaster. By the time the chaos settled, the entire restaurant was dead silent.
“I. Am. Leaving,” Amanda declared, storming off in her stained designer dress.
Nick looked down at his soaked clothes, then at me.
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“Well. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured our reunion.”
“You planned this?”
He winked. I groaned. Alex grabbed my hand.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops on us.”
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I didn’t argue. We left the restaurant sticky, soaked, and absolutely done with the night. As we stepped onto the street, I glanced at Alex.
“We just got played, didn’t we?”
“Oh, 100%. And I have an extreme suspicion about who’s behind this.”
“Yeah. Our mothers.”
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And just like that, everything started making sense.
Alex and I exchanged a knowing glance, the kind only two people could understand. A slow grin spread across my face as I wiped a streak of sauce from his cheek.
“We can’t let them get away with this.”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
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We embraced and burst into laughter — sticky, soaked, and victorious. Because no matter what our mothers threw at us — our love wasn’t that easy to break.
At that very moment, our mothers probably enjoyed a peaceful dinner together at our house. Blissfully unaware of the little surprise we had prepared for them.
***
When we got home, our mothers were lounging on the couch, sipping wine, looking very pleased with themselves.
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“Oh, you’re back!” my mom beamed. “How was your evening?”
Alex and I exchanged a knowing look.
“Oh, life-changing,” I said, slipping off my jacket.
“What do you mean?”
Alex sighed heavily. “We’ve made a decision.”
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Both moms leaned forward.
“We’re breaking up,” I announced.
Silence. Cynthia gasped. My mom clutched her chest.
“But wait,” Alex added, raising a hand. “There’s good news, too. We’re having a baby.”
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Cynthia choked on her wine. My mom’s eyes bulged.
“You CAN’T break up if you’re having a baby!”
“Well, you two can co-parent.”
Alex nodded. “Or, you know… foster care.”
The horror on their faces was delicious.
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“You… YOU WOULDN’T.”
“Oh, but you thought meddling in our marriage was fine?”
“We weren’t trying to ruin anything,” my mom muttered. “We just… read that book that said love only lasts three years. And well, your anniversary is coming up, and everything seemed so… calm.”
“So, naturally, you decided to light a match and throw it into our excellent relationship?” Alex asked.
Cynthia sighed, rubbing her temples. “We thought a little jealousy would… reignite the spark.”
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I exchanged a look with Alex, half-amused, half-exasperated.
“Well, congrats. You gave us the messiest week of our lives.”
Alex chuckled. “But we’re still standing. Still together. And stronger than ever.”
“Well, now that we’re done with family drama,” I said, grabbing my coat, “how about we finally go eat? You two dragged us through so much that we never got dinner.”
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They perked up immediately. And as we all headed out together, I threw an arm around Alex.
“Oh, and by the way,” I added, “we’re sending you two on a weekend getaway. Somewhere far. Very far.”
Alex grinned.
“Think of it as a little break… from ruining our lives.”
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I Heard a Young Woman on the Street Singing the Same Song My Daughter Sang Before Going Missing 17 Years Ago, So I Went Closer
I was walking home from work one day, thinking about the bills I had to pay that evening. But as I turned the corner onto the town square street, a familiar melody suddenly reached my ears and stopped me in my tracks.
It was the song I used to sing with my daughter Lily before she disappeared from our lives 17 years ago.
It was a song I’d made up just for her, a little lullaby about a field of flowers and sunlight that would brighten her dreams. No one else would know it. No one.
A man with his daughter | Source: Pexels
But here it was, clear as day, sung by a young woman standing across the square, eyes closed, with a serene smile.
The song reminded me of when our little girl filled our home with warmth and joy. She was the center of our world, and her sudden disappearance left a gaping hole in our lives that never fully healed.
Suddenly, all the worries disappeared from my mind that day, and I felt my legs carrying me forward like I had no control.
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My mind kept saying it was impossible, that it couldn’t be, but my heart pushed me forward.
The woman looked familiar, painfully so. Dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, and looking at her smile made me think I’d seen it a thousand times in old photos and my own memories.
She even had a dimple on her left cheek, just like Cynthia, my wife.
It all seemed too incredible, too much to believe, but there was this pull. A feeling only a parent could know.
Could this be my Lily?
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I felt so nervous as I moved closer. I watched as she finished the song and opened her eyes. She caught me staring but looked away as the crowd clapped for her.
Thank you all for listening! she said with a wide smile. “Have a great day!”
Then, her gaze met mine, and she noticed the strange expression on my face.
“Looks like you didn’t like my performance,” she said, walking over. “Was I that bad?”
“Oh, no, no,” I chuckled. “I, uh, that song is special to me. It’s very special.”
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“Oh, really?” she asked. “It’s super special for me too. You see, it’s one of the few memories from my childhood. I’ve been singing it ever since I can remember. It’s the only thing I have left from back then.”
She looked like she was about to leave, so I blurted out, “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s a long story,” she replied as she glanced at her watch. “Maybe some other time.”
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“Please, I’d like to hear it,” I urged, my heart pounding. “I’ll buy you a coffee and we can talk if you don’t mind.”
She paused, studying me for a second, then nodded. “Well… sure, why not?”
We walked over to the café and settled into a corner booth. The more I looked at her, the more familiar she seemed. Her eyes, her smile, and even her voice felt like home.
It felt like a missing piece of my life had suddenly fallen into place.
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“You have a beautiful voice,” I said, trying to keep my composure.
“Thank you,” she smiled. “I was actually just passing through town for work when I heard that band playing. They were asking if anyone wanted to sing, and well, I just had to.”
“That song… where did you learn it?” I asked.
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She sighed, looking down at her coffee. “I didn’t ‘learn’ it exactly. It’s just… it’s the only thing I remember from my childhood. I used to sing it, or hum it, all the time. My adoptive parents said it was like my own little anthem.”
“Adoptive parents?” I asked, barely keeping my voice steady.
She nodded.
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“Yeah. I was… taken in by a family when I was five. They told me my real parents had died in a car accident. They even showed me photos from the newspaper,” her face softened, eyes misty.
“They were kind to me, gave me toys, and treated me well. But I always missed my real parents. With time, I started to believe my adoptive parents were the only family. But as I grew older, I had this nagging feeling that I was missing something, that maybe they weren’t telling me the whole truth.”
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I could feel my hands shaking.
“And… did you ever find out the truth?” I asked carefully.
“I tried,” she said. “You see, when I got older, my adoptive parents tried to make it official. They wanted to legally adopt me. They told me I should say I wanted to stay with them. So, I did.”
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“But when I turned 18,” she continued. “I started questioning everything. I tried to find my real parents, but I guess I didn’t have enough information. I tried reaching out to anyone who might have known me before, but my records didn’t match any missing children. I had so few details to go on.”
She paused, looking down at her hands. “It’s just this song that I have now. It reminds me of them.”
The pieces were starting to fit.
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A part of me wanted to call for a DNA test right there to confirm what my heart already knew, but a part of me was too terrified to believe it.
“Do you remember anything else about your real parents? Besides this song?” I asked.
“It’s all so blurry. I remember being happy, though, before everything changed. I think my name was Lily?” She laughed nervously. “But I can’t be sure. My adoptive parents called me Suzy, and after a while, that’s all I responded to.
I couldn’t believe her words.
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“M-my daughter,” I stammered. “Her name was Lily too.”
Her head snapped up. “Are you serious?”
I nodded, fighting back tears. “She went missing when she was five, and that was 17 years ago. We never found any answers. But we never stopped hoping. My wife’s name is Cynthia, by the way.”
She gasped, her eyes going wide.
“My… my mom’s name was Cynthia too,” she whispered. “I remember it clearly because she always used to make me say her and my father’s name. Are you… are you John?”
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“Yes,” I held her hand. “I’m John.”
We just sat there for a moment, looking at each other in stunned silence. And then, like a dam breaking, the tears came. We held each other, both crying as years of longing, confusion, and grief flooded over us.
It was as if all the lost years, the endless nights of wondering, finally found their answer.
“Dad?” she whispered, her voice shaking.
“Yes, Lily,” I managed, my voice breaking. “It’s me… it’s us.”
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After a while, I asked Lily if she’d like to meet her mother.
My hands shook as I called a taxi once she agreed to follow me home.
We didn’t talk much during the ride home. I just kept wondering how all this was happening. It was too good to be true.
When we arrived, I asked Lily to wait by the door because I knew Cynthia would need a moment to process everything. However, she knew something was wrong the moment I stepped inside.
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“What happened?” she asked. “Are you alright?”
“Cynthia, there’s something I need to tell you,” I said, touching her shoulders.
Then, I told her everything that happened during the last few hours.
“Oh God, oh God,” she said in tears. “No, no. It can’t be. That’s impossible, John!”
I held her hands and tried to calm her down.
“It’s true, Cynthia. Our Lily’s back,” I smiled.
“Where is she? Where’s our Lily?” she asked.
A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
“She’s here, behind the door,” I replied, my own eyes welling up with tears.
On hearing this, Cynthia sprang from her chair and ran to the door, flinging it open. She started sobbing when she saw our little girl, now all grown up, standing at the door.
“Mom?” Lily asked hesitantly. “Is-is that you?”
“Oh my God… my baby,” Cynthia cried, pulling her into her arms.
They clung to each other, both crying as if they could make up for all the years they’d missed. My heart swelled with joy as I watched them cry.
A man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
After a while, we all sat down together, catching up on the years we’d lost. Lily shared stories of her life and struggles, and we told her how we could never have a child again.
Finally, Cynthia took a deep breath.
“Lily… would you be willing to, uh, confirm, with a DNA test?” She looked apologetic. “It’s just that after all this time, I just need to be sure.”
Lily nodded, smiling softly. “I understand, Mom. I’d like that too.”
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We scheduled a test, and within a week, the results confirmed what we already knew.
Lily was ours, and we were hers.
Our home was soon filled with laughter, tears, and stories of the life we’d missed out on. Lily moved in with us temporarily and each day felt like a small miracle.
I’ll never forget that ordinary evening on my way home from work when an old lullaby reunited a family that had been torn apart. Life has a strange way of bringing back what we thought we’d lost forever.
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Living a quiet life with her son, Jasmine never expected a message from a stranger to shake her world. But when a man named Robert claimed to be her half-brother, she uncovered secrets buried deep in her family’s past.
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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