Before Disembarking Plane, Pilot Notices Last Passenger inside Who Is a Carbon Copy of Him – Story of the Day

Before disembarking the plane he had just landed, Captain Edward Blair noticed a lone man on the plane who refused to leave. Upon looking clearly, he realized the man was his carbon copy.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is Captain Edward Blair speaking. We have just landed at the Chicago Midway International Airport. We hope you enjoyed your flight with us, and we wish to see you on one of your future flights,” the captain spoke from the cockpit after successfully landing the aircraft.

After parking the plane, the captain and his first officer followed protocol by waiting for all passengers to disembark before leaving the cockpit. When it was their turn to leave, he opened the cockpit door and saw the flight purser talking to a man who refused to leave the plane.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Everything good here?” Edward asked, approaching them.

The flight purser nodded. “I’ll give you guys some time,” she smiled before walking towards the back of the plane.

Edward was confused about why she wanted to leave him alone with the passenger until he realized what she meant. There stood a man who looked exactly like him. Before he could say anything, the man spoke.

“Do you want to see mom?” he asked.

“I can’t believe my eyes. Is it you, Adam? Did mom ever come back? She’s alive and well?” Edward replied, so many thoughts suddenly rushing to his head.

Adam was Edward’s twin brother, whom he hadn’t seen in decades. Edward left the orphanage when he was eight, and they were now 32 years old.

“I asked you a question first. Do you want to see your mom?” Adam asked again with an impatient tone.

Edward nodded, and Adam stepped out of the plane. Edward followed behind and the two of them got into a taxi heading towards the city.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

On the way, Adam was silent the entire time. Meanwhile, Edward couldn’t help but try and explain himself with tears in his eyes.

“When she left us at the orphanage, I really didn’t think she’d ever come back. I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I understood that she couldn’t feed us because dad left, but I thought she left us because a part of her wanted to leave us too. I didn’t think she’d ever come back, Adam,” he explained.

“So instead, you agreed to be adopted by a wealthy family. You chose them over ME! I begged you for days not to leave me in that place, but you chose to live a life of comfort over your own blood. She came back a year after you left, and she couldn’t forgive herself for losing you,” Adam answered back.

“Up until today, she blames herself for not having enough to keep you. Don’t get me wrong – I hate you. In fact, I hate you as much as I hate our father. I stopped looking for you years ago, but when I heard your name on that plane, I remembered mom and her wish to see you,” he added with gritted teeth.

After a couple of minutes, the taxi came to a stop. Adam got out and stormed towards an old house that surprised Edward. He realized that his brother and mother lived in poverty.

Although Adam had a long-time girlfriend, he could not ask her to marry him because he spent most of his time working and caring for his sick mother. He’s always wanted to settle down and start a family, but he felt indebted to his mom and wanted to make sure she lived the rest of her life comfortably.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

As they entered the house, Edward immediately saw his mother, Annie, in a wheelchair, sitting in their living room. When she saw both her sons in the same room, she sobbed and could not calm down.

“Oh my god, it’s you, Edward. Adam, you and your brother are both here. You’re back,” she sobbed, bringing her wheelchair closer to her sons.

“He’s not back, mom. He just came to see you, but he’ll be back in his mansion when the night ends,” Adam said passively while pouring a glass of water for his mom to calm down.

Edward didn’t hesitate to walk toward his mom, hug her and beg for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, mom. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said you’d come back for us. I wish you could forgive me,” he cried.

“I don’t blame you, son. I don’t blame you at all. I am sorry for not being able to give you and Adam a good life from the beginning. I wish I could, but it was so difficult for me to find work. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so glad that you’re here,” his mother replied, stroking his hair as they embraced.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Would you like to stay the night? We have a lot to catch up on. I’d love for you to spend more time with us,” she asked him.

“I’m sorry, mom, but I have to go home tonight. I got a job in France, so my adoptive parents and I will be moving. The flight back home to Chicago was my last one here. I think it was meant to be that Adam was in the flight, as I got to see you,” he explained.

After hearing that his son was moving to Europe, Annie was heartbroken. “You’re leaving?” she said weakly. “I wish we could have found each other sooner… I’m sad that our time together was so short.”

“I’m sorry, mom. I will visit you as much as I can. I am sure I’ll have flights to the US,” Edward said, apologizing once more.

“Stop getting her hopes up. She doesn’t deserve to be heartbroken at her age. Get out!” Adam retorted, realizing that his brother simply just wanted to see their mother but not build a connection with her.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

A couple of days after their encounter, Adam noticed a transportation service arrive in the house across from theirs, and men started loading furniture inside, along with appliances.

“Mom, it seems someone bought the house right in front of ours. We’ll have new neighbors soon,” he told her.

Annie was delighted, as she had always wanted neighbors. She enjoyed baking and was looking to share her creations with other people.

However, they were surprised when the man who followed shortly after, driving a luxury vehicle, turned out to be Edward. Adam and Annie opened their front door to confront him. “What are you doing here?” Adam asked his brother.

“I spoke to my wife about what happened the other day, and we both realized that our home wasn’t in France, but here. I turned down the job offer from the French airline and told my adoptive parents I wanted to relocate somewhere in Chicago instead. They understood and promised they’d keep in touch while they enjoyed their retirement in Europe,” Edward explained.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“I am sorry that I never got a chance to look for you, mom. I know I’ve made many mistakes in the past, but I hope you give me a chance to prove to you that I am not a bad person and that I genuinely want to spend time with you. I want to reconnect with you too, Adam. We are brothers. I love you both, and I will prove just how much if you’d let me,” he added.

Annie could not believe it, and she began to cry. Edward introduced his wife Emma and young daughter Alex to Annie and Adam, warming their hearts. While Annie caught up with Alex and Emma, Adam and Edward had a good talk.

“I know you don’t trust me at all, Adam, but please give me this chance to prove to you that I have good intentions for you and mom,” he begged.

“I’m willing to let go of my past issues for mom’s sake. She looks happy, and that’s all that matters to me,” Adam admitted.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

The brothers caught up with one another, and Edward found out that Adam had a long-time girlfriend he wanted to marry. He volunteered to take care of their mother in the house next door while Adam worked on his own personal relationship.

Edward had Adam’s house repaired, and the renovations made it look good as new. Adam began to work on his personal life while Edward and his family cared for Annie next door. The family would get together every night for a good meal and conversation.

What can we learn from this story?

  • People meant to be in your life will always find their way back to you. Adam didn’t know that Edward was on his flight back to Chicago that day. Their chance encounter brought Edward back to the company of his mother and brother, whom he had not seen for years.
  • It’s never too late to start over. Adam was angry at his brother Edward for abandoning him, but they were able to set aside their differences for the sake of their mom. They ended up rebuilding their relationships with one another, leading them to become a stronger and happier family.

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At My Grandma’s Funeral, I Saw My Mom Hiding a Package in the Coffin — I Quietly Took It & Was Stunned When I Looked Inside

At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother discreetly slip a mysterious package into the coffin. When I took it later out of curiosity, I didn’t expect it would unravel heartbreaking secrets that would haunt me forever.

They say grief comes in waves, but for me, it strikes like missing stairs in the dark. My grandmother Catherine wasn’t just family; she was my best friend, my universe. She made me feel like the most precious thing in the world, enveloping me in hugs that felt like coming home. Standing beside her coffin last week, I felt untethered, like learning to breathe with only half a lung.

An older woman in a coffin | Source: Midjourney

An older woman in a coffin | Source: Midjourney

The funeral home’s soft lighting cast gentle shadows across Grandma’s peaceful face. Her silver hair was arranged just the way she always wore it, and someone had put her favorite pearl necklace around her neck.

My fingers traced the smooth wood of the casket as memories flooded back. Just last month, we’d been sitting in her kitchen, sharing tea and laughter while she taught me her secret sugar cookie recipe.

“Emerald, honey, she’s watching over you now, you know,” Mrs. Anderson, our next-door neighbor, placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. “Your grandmother never stopped talking about her precious grandchild.”

A grieving young woman | Source: Midjourney

A grieving young woman | Source: Midjourney

I wiped away a stray tear. “Remember how she used to make those incredible apple pies? The whole neighborhood would know it was Sunday just from the smell.”

“Oh, those pies! She’d send you over with slices for us, proud as could be. ‘Emerald helped with this one,’ she’d always say. ‘She has the perfect touch with the cinnamon.’”

“I tried making one last week,” I admitted, my voice catching. “It wasn’t the same. I picked up the phone to ask her what I’d done wrong, and then… the heart attack… the ambulance arrived and—”

“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson pulled me into a tight hug. “She knew how much you loved her. That’s what matters. And look at all these people here… she touched so many lives.”

An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney

An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney

The funeral home was indeed crowded, filled with friends and neighbors sharing stories in hushed voices. I spotted my mother, Victoria, standing off to the side, checking her phone. She hadn’t shed a tear all day.

As Mrs. Anderson and I were talking, I saw my mother approach the casket. She glanced around furtively before leaning over it, her manicured hand slipping something inside. It looked like a small package.

When she straightened, her eyes darted around the room before she walked away, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

A mature woman at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman at a funeral | Source: Midjourney

“Did you see that?” I whispered, my heart suddenly racing.

“See what, dear?”

“My mom just…” I hesitated, watching my mother disappear into the ladies’ room. “Nothing. Just the grief playing tricks, I guess.”

But the unease settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Mom and Grandma had barely spoken in years. And there was no way my grandma would have asked for something to be put in her casket without my knowledge.

Something felt off.

A grieving woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

A grieving woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney

Evening shadows lengthened across the funeral home’s windows as the last mourners filtered out. The scent of lilies and roses hung heavy in the air, mixing with the lingering perfume of departed guests.

My mother had left an hour ago, claiming a migraine, but her earlier behavior kept nagging at me like a splinter under my skin.

“Ms. Emerald?” The funeral director, Mr. Peters, appeared at my elbow. His kind face reminded me of my grandfather, who we’d lost five years ago. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you. Mr. Peters.”

An older man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

An older man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

I waited until his footsteps faded before approaching Grandma’s casket again. The room felt different now. Heavier, filled with unspoken words and hidden truths.

In the quiet space, my heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. I leaned closer, examining every detail of Grandma’s peaceful face.

There, barely visible beneath the fold of her favorite blue dress — the one she’d worn to my college graduation — was the corner of something wrapped in blue cloth.

I wrestled with guilt, torn between loyalty to my mom and the need to honor Grandma’s wishes. But my duty to protect Grandma’s legacy outweighed it.

My hands trembled as I carefully reached in, extracted the package, and slipped it into my purse.

A woman holding a brown leather purse | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a brown leather purse | Source: Midjourney

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, touching her cold hand one last time. Her wedding ring caught the light, a final sparkle of the warmth she’d always carried.

“But something’s not right here. You taught me to trust my instincts, remember? You always said the truth matters more than comfort.”

Back home, I sat in Grandma’s old reading chair, the one she’d insisted I take when she moved to the smaller apartment last year. The package sat in my lap, wrapped in a familiar blue handkerchief.

I recognized the delicate “C” embroidered in the corner. I’d watched Grandma stitch it decades ago while she told me stories about her childhood.

A woman holding a small blue package | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a small blue package | Source: Midjourney

“What secrets are you keeping, Mom?” I murmured, carefully untying the worn twine. My stomach churned at the sight that followed.

Inside were letters, dozens of them, each bearing my mother’s name in Grandma’s distinctive handwriting. The paper was yellowed at the edges, some creased from frequent handling.

A stunned woman holding a stack of old letters | Source: Midjourney

A stunned woman holding a stack of old letters | Source: Midjourney

The first letter was dated three years ago. The paper was crisp, as if it had been read many times:

“Victoria,

I know what you did.

Did you think I wouldn’t notice the missing money? That I wouldn’t check my accounts? Month after month, I watched small amounts disappear. At first, I told myself there must be some mistake. That my own daughter wouldn’t steal from me. But we both know the truth, don’t we?

Your gambling has to stop. You’re destroying yourself and this family. I’ve tried to help you, to understand, but you keep lying to my face while taking more. Remember last Christmas when you swore you’d changed? When you cried and promised to get help? A week later, another $5,000 was gone.

I’m not writing this to shame you. I’m writing because it breaks my heart to watch you spiral like this.

Please, Victoria. Let me help you… really help you this time.

Mom”

A shocked woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

My hands shook as I read letter after letter. Each one revealed more of the story I’d never known, painting a picture of betrayal that made my stomach turn.

The dates spread across years, the tone shifting from concern to anger to resignation.

One letter mentioned a family dinner where Mom had sworn she was done gambling.

I remembered that night — she’d seemed so sincere, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Grandma. Now I wondered if those tears had been real or just another performance.

A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney

A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney

The final letter from Grandma made me catch my breath:

“Victoria,

You’ve made your choices. I’ve made mine. Everything I own will go to Emerald — the only person who’s shown me real love, not just used me as a personal bank. You may think you’ve gotten away with it all, but I promise you haven’t. The truth always comes to light.

Remember when Emerald was little, and you accused me of playing favorites? You said I loved her more than I loved you. The truth is, I loved you both differently but equally. The difference was that she loved me back without conditions, without wanting anything in return.

I still love you. I’ll always love you. But I cannot trust you.

Mom”

A surprised woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

A surprised woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

My hands were shaking as I unfolded the last letter. This one was from my mother to Grandma, dated just two days ago, after Grandma’s death. The handwriting was sharp, angry strokes across the page:

“Mom,

Fine. You win. I admit it. I took the money. I needed it. You never understood what it’s like to feel that rush, that need. But guess what? Your clever little plan won’t work. Emerald adores me. She’ll give me whatever I ask for. Including her inheritance. Because she loves me. So in the end, I still win.

Maybe now you can stop trying to control everyone from beyond the grave. Goodbye.

Victoria”

A teary-eyed woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney

A teary-eyed woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney

Sleep eluded me that night. I paced my apartment, memories shifting and realigning with this new reality.

The Christmas gifts that always seemed too expensive. The times Mom had asked to “borrow” my credit card for emergencies. All those casual conversations about Grandma’s finances, disguised as daughter’s concern.

“Have you talked to Mom about getting power of attorney?” she’d asked one day. “You know how forgetful she’s getting.”

“She seems fine to me,” I’d replied.

“Just thinking ahead, sweetie. We need to protect her assets.”

My mother, driven solely by greed, had betrayed my grandmother and now, me.

A teary-eyed woman standing near the window | Source: Midjourney

A teary-eyed woman standing near the window | Source: Midjourney

By morning, my eyes were burning but my mind was clear. I called her, keeping my voice steady:

“Mom? Can we meet for coffee? There’s something important I need to give you.”

“What is it, sweetie?” Her voice dripped with honey-sweet concern. “Are you okay? You sound tired.”

“I’m fine. It’s about Grandma. She left a package for you. Said I should give it to you ‘when the time was right.’”

A mature woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

“Oh!” The eagerness in her voice made me wince. “Of course, darling. Where should we meet?”

“The coffee shop on Mill Street? The quiet one?”

“Perfect. You’re such a thoughtful daughter, Emerald. So different from how I was with my mother.”

The irony of her words was a dagger to my heart. “See you at two, Mom.” I then hung up.

A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney

The bell above the door chimed as my mother entered the coffee shop that afternoon, her eyes immediately finding my purse on the table.

She was wearing her favorite red blazer — the one she always wore to important meetings.

She sat down, reaching for my hand across the worn wooden surface. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. This has all been so hard on you, hasn’t it? You and your grandmother were so close.”

I just nodded and placed a wrapped bundle on the table. Inside were blank pages with just two letters on top — Grandma’s “I know what you did” one, and one I’d written myself.

A mature woman holding a small gift-wrapped package | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman holding a small gift-wrapped package | Source: Midjourney

“What’s this?” she asked, her perfectly manicured nails breaking the seal on the first envelope. I watched as the color completely drained from her face when she opened the second one, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly that it crumpled at the edges.

My letter was simple:

“Mom,

I have the rest of the letters. If you ever try to manipulate me or come after what Grandma left me, everyone will know the truth. All of it.

Emerald”

A mature woman gaping in shock while holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman gaping in shock while holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

“Emerald, honey, I—”

I rose before she could finish, watching years of deception dissolve in her tears. “I love you, Mom. But that doesn’t mean you can manipulate me. You lost my trust. Forever.”

With that, I turned around and stormed out, leaving her alone with the weight of her lies and the ghost of Grandma’s truth. I realized some lies can’t stay buried forever, no matter how hard you try.

A young woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney

A young woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney

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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