At 37, I thought I could finally date in peace until my Mom crashed dinner with a list of rules… and somehow ended up on a date with my boyfriend.
I always knew I had a mom. But sometimes, it felt like my mom was my whole life. I was 37, but that didn’t stop her from asking me every single day:
“Are you wearing warm socks?” or “Are you sure he looked at you with respect and not… interest?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I worked in a museum, adored art history, lived in my own apartment, had a bank account, and had two degrees… Yet every time I saw “Mom calling” on my phone, I instinctively straightened my posture.
She controlled everything. From when I should go to bed to what color I painted my nails.
Once, I ordered salmon delivery, and 20 minutes later, she called.
“I saw him go into your house. Was that him?”
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“Mom, are you spying on my house?”
“I just sat in the car nearby. In case of suspicious movement.”
She had binoculars. And a notebook. She called it “just in case.”
As a child, it was cute. At 20, it got annoying. By 30, I began to question our “normal.”
At 37, I met Theo.
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For the first time in my life, I didn’t tell her right away.
It was my first grown-up secret. And, of course, it lasted exactly three days. Until Mom ruined everything.
But I’ll tell you that in a moment.
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***
I was preparing for my dinner with Theo. I baked a pie I found online, not from Mom’s sacred recipe book.
Even if it came out a bit burnt and the chicken was a little dry — those were my mistakes. My life.
I could already imagine my mother’s face if she saw the meal — a guaranteed explosion. I smiled quietly to myself while checking the candles.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
A week earlier, she declared, “I want to meet him. In person. At my house. At the table. With my questions.”
“Mom, let me be an adult for once. I’ll decide when to introduce you.”
She backed off for once. It felt odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Big mistake.
That night, Theo came over for the first time. He brought tulips, non-alcoholic wine (knowing I was tired after work), and a cake from the bakery I always visit during lunch.
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“I just wanted to get everything right,” he smiled, setting the plates.
“Theo, with you, it always feels right.”
Something warm and calm bloomed in my chest. We talked for hours. Laughed. Dreamed.
“Imagine… a little house by an old lighthouse,” he said.
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“And in the basement — an archive of old love letters.”
“You’d preserve them, and I’d write new ones.”
Candles were burning low. Music hummed softly. He touched my hand.
“I thought after all the heartbreaks, nothing would ever happen again. And then you came along…”
And at that exact moment…
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“ACHOO!”
From the closet. We froze.
“You’re not alone?” Theo shot me a look.
I got up. Opened the closet.
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“Mooom?!”
She sat in the dark. With a headlamp. And a thermos.
“What… what are you doing?!”
“Oh, hi! I was just checking if you’re storing things in your closet without lavender,” she mumbled, not even trying to sound convincing.
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“You broke into my apartment?!”
“I was just making sure. Listening. Evaluating. I didn’t interfere!”
Theo, somehow, still managed to smile politely.
“Good evening. I’m Theo. Very nice to meet you.”
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“Theo. Short. Like most male patients,” Mom said, sitting on the couch. “Sit. Let’s get to know each other.”
I wanted to run. But Theo sat down. Bravely.
And the interrogation began.
“Do you have a job?”
“Yes. I teach literature…”
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“Do you work 9 to 5?”
“Flexible hours.”
“So, no structure. Got it. Do you drink alcohol?”
“A glass of wine, sometimes…”
“Sometimes means regularly.”
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“Mom…”
“Quiet, Eliza. I’m asking.”
Then she turned back to him again, “How many women before my daughter?”
“I… excuse me?”
“Are you deaf?”
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“No, I just think that’s a bit…”
“You should always think. Before approaching a woman with serious intentions.”
Theo looked at me. As if to ask, “Is this a joke?”
I tried to say with my eyes, “No. This is my life.”
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Mom stood up. “Now, a test.”
“What?” we both said.
“Wipe the table. With a sponge. No streaks. If there’s even one mark — you’re not for her.”
“Mom, enough!”
I was desperate and angry. But to my greatest surprise…
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Theo stood up, went to the kitchen, found the sponge… and wiped. It was perfect. She checked the surface and ran her finger across.
“Hmm. Survived. For now.”
Then, Mom dramatically handed Theo a paper. He smiled while skimming it, then slowly, he frowned before handing it to me.
“I think I should go. I’ll call you.”
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He left. Just like that. I finally looked down at the letters she wrote in thick black marker.
RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGTER
1. Have a job.
2. Understand I don’t like you.
3. I am EVERYWHERE.
4. You make HER cry — I make YOU cry.
5. Be home 30 min early.
6. SHE is my PRINCESS. Not your conquest.
7. I don’t mind going to jail.
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Daugter. With a typo. That said it all.
“Mom, it’s time for you to go.”
“Oh, sweetie, if he leaves at the first sign of trouble, is he even a man?”
“He didn’t leave me. He said he’d call.”
“Same thing.”
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“Maybe he just didn’t enjoy being around you?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“You crossed the line, Mom! Please, leave. I want to be alone.”
Mom’s words echoed in my head.
Has Theo really left… forever?
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***
Three days passed. No texts. No calls. I caved and sent him a short message:
“I’m sorry for how everything went. You didn’t deserve that.”
Seen. No reply.
And then — a knock at the door. I opened it, my heart racing. It was him and he was there with flowers.
“Come on. I’ve planned a date… for you and your Mom.”
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I blinked. “What?”
“Just trust me.”
We picked up my Mom. She barely got in the car before starting her usual commentary.
“Where are we going? I have to defrost the freezer!”
“Surprise,” Theo smiled.
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The first stop? His lecture.
Mom and I sat in the back. Theo stood in front of a class full of students, talking about love in literature.
“To be with someone doesn’t always feel poetic. But it’s always worth it.”
“Oh, I might fall asleep here,” Mom whispered.
“Mom. Shhh.”
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“If he’s trying to seduce us both with lectures — he failed.”
I gave her a look. But I held on. I knew this wasn’t all Theo had planned.
Next stop — a boat ride. On the lake, with a plaid blanket, strawberries, and tea in a thermos. (Yes, the exact tea Mom liked. He remembered.)
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“Yet another romantic coma,” Mom muttered, but this time, she was chuckling.
As we floated, Theo turned to her gently.
“So, Barbara. What are your hobbies?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Hobbies? Suspicion. Avoiding scams. Crosswords when I can’t sleep.”
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“I bet you’re good at them.”
“I once found three typos in The New York Times. Sent them a letter. And you didn’t find one.”
“You planted that typo?”
“Of course, sweetie — it was a test for your Theo.”
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“A test? For spelling? Mom, he’s a university professor!”
“No, more like a test for politeness,” she smirked. “He passed.”
Then she leaned to move closer to the edge… and slipped.
SPLASH.
She fell right into the water. I gasped. Then, she laughed so hard I nearly joined her.
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“YOU LAUGHING? I COULD DROWN!”
Theo jumped in without hesitation. Swam straight to her, helped her out, and wrapped her in a blanket. Soaked, shivering, furious — but secretly touched. Back on land, she was about to stomp away.
“I need to go home. I’m done.”
Theo calmly said, “There’s a sports store nearby. Time for a wardrobe refresh.”
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He disappeared. Came back ten minutes later with two matching athletic outfits. One for me. One for Mom. She held hers suspiciously.
“How did you guess my size?”
“Easy. You’re built perfectly for a Medium. Athletic and classic.”
She smiled. Barely. Quietly. But I saw it. She loved attention.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
We changed. And then — the climbing wall.
“Last challenge, I promise,” Theo grinned. “Climbing wall. One climbs, the other keeps the rope. Trust exercise.”
“Oh no. I’m 60!”
“Exactly. Perfect age for adventure.”
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To my absolute shock, Mom went first. Halfway up, she shouted:
“THEO! IF I FALL — I’M HAUNTING YOU!”
She didn’t fall. She reached the top. And when she came down, her eyes were gleaming.
“Okay, professor. Not bad.”
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“To end the day,” Theo said, “I’d like to make you both dinner. My place.”
Mom looked at me. “I have no choice. I need to see where this man lives. Maybe I’ll discover his secret lair.”
***
Theo’s house was beautiful. Clean. Warm. It smelled like citrus and cedar. I’d never been there before. And I was stunned.
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“Did you buy this on a teacher’s salary or rob a bank?” Mom asked, peeking into the kitchen.
“Started saving in high school. Plus I teach online courses on the side. Hard work pays off.”
“Well, look at you,” she muttered. Then, louder, “Does the fridge clean itself, or are you just this weird?”
Theo just laughed.
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We sat on the terrace. Theo grilled steaks nearby while the sun dipped low. Mom leaned back. Actually relaxed.
“You know… he’s not so bad, honey.”
“Really? Wow. Mom, you’re on fire today.”
“I was too distrustful. Because your father left. And I didn’t want you to get burned like I did.”
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“But Mom, it’s my life. I need to make my own mistakes. Walk my own path.”
“Theo is wonderful. It’s obvious he loves you. I mean, he jumped in a lake to save his future mother-in-law.”
We both laughed.
“And he could’ve dropped me on that climbing wall. But he didn’t. That’s some nerve control.”
Theo joined us, carrying two plates.
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“Hungry?”
“Always,” Mom said.
“Even for this? Because I have one more course.”
Theo knelt on one knee.
“Eliza, these past three months have been the best of my life. You’ve brought color back into everything. And your mom… we’re friends now.”
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“Almost,” Mom added.
“Not even the rule list could scare me away. I want to share my home, my life… all of it. And yes, even see your mom — but no more than twice a week.”
He laughed. I gasped.
“Will you marry me?”
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I blinked. Heart racing.
“Sweetheart,” Mom nudged me. “I’d have said yes already.”
“YES. Of course — yes!”
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***
Mom changed.
She started Pilates, bought her first floral swimsuit, and we no longer lived in a co-dependent loop. We were separate but always family.
Finally, our coffee dates felt like chats between old friends.
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She told me about her fitness class. I told her how Theo’d forgotten to take out the trash and called it a “creative delay.”
I finally became myself. And I think — she also did.
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Girl Claims She Sees Late Mom at School Every Day, Dad Shocked Upon Discovering the Truth — Story of the Day
Michael, a single father, was left with his 8-year-old daughter after his wife died in a car accident. He thought he was managing well and that his daughter was coping with her mother’s death. But one day, she approached him and said she saw her mom at school every day.
Michael mourned the loss of his wife, Simone, every day. Just a few months ago, she had died in a car accident, but her body was never found because she had fallen into a river.
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This left Michael alone with his 8-year-old daughter, Hannah. Determined to stay strong for her, Michael moved to another city to escape the painful memories that filled their old town. He knew Hannah had already lost her mother; he couldn’t let her lose him, too.
Hannah slowly adapted to her new school and even seemed happy. Michael, on the other hand, had to learn to be both a father and a mother.
He taught himself how to style Hannah’s hair, woke up early every morning to make her breakfast and pack her lunch, and even learned some ballet moves to practice with her at home.
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Simone had enrolled Hannah in ballet, believing she would be a great ballerina one day. Michael kept that dream alive, and it kept a part of Simone alive in her.
Today, Michael had finished work early and decided to pick up Hannah from school, a rare treat since she usually took the bus. He waited in the car outside the school, excitement bubbling inside him.
Soon, Hannah ran out of the school. Michael honked the horn to get her attention, and she waved cheerfully, sprinting toward the car. She hopped in, throwing her backpack onto the back seat.
“Hi, Dad!” Hannah said with a big smile as she got into the car.
“Hi, sweetheart. How was school today?” Michael asked, starting to drive.
“It was good. Everyone praised me for my math. All the work we did yesterday really helped,” Hannah replied proudly.
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Hannah’s smile faded. “But Mom still ignores me,” she said sadly.
Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He hit the brakes harder than he meant to. “What do you mean, Hannah? Do you talk to her?” he asked, his voice full of worry.
“Yes, every day,” Hannah said. “But she pretends she doesn’t know me.”
Michael sighed and started driving again, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. “Hannah, your mom is in a better place now. It’s far away, and she can’t respond to you. But she hears everything you say and loves you very much.”
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Hannah looked confused. “What do you mean? She’s not far away. She’s at school. I see her every day,” she insisted.
Michael glanced at her, puzzled. “What? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Hannah groaned in frustration. “Dad, what’s not to understand? Mom cleans our school every morning when I get there. But when I talk to her, she says she doesn’t know me. I think she’s mad because I want to quit ballet,” she said.
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“You want to quit ballet?” Michael asked, surprised.
Yes. I don’t like it anymore. Mom wanted me to do ballet, but now she doesn’t even talk to me,” Hannah said.
“Hannah, you’re not quitting ballet,” Michael said firmly.
“I will!” Hannah shot back, her voice rising.
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“No!” Michael shouted louder than he intended. Hannah’s eyes widened in fear. He took a deep breath and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, but you’re not quitting ballet. We’re not discussing this.”
“But…” Hannah started to say.
Michael cut her off. “It’s not up for discussion. Now let’s go to school, and you show me your mom.”
“She’s not there now. She only comes in the mornings,” Hannah replied.
“Then tomorrow, I’ll go to school with you, and you can show me,” Michael said, determined to understand what was going on.
“Okay, you’ll see I’m telling the truth. You don’t believe me now,” Hannah said quietly.
Michael sighed, his heart aching for his daughter.
For the rest of the day, Michael couldn’t find peace. His mind kept racing with thoughts of Hannah seeing visions of Simone. He had thought Hannah was coping well with her mother’s death.
She had been calm and cheerful since their move to the new city. But now, it seemed he was wrong.
The next day, Michael took Hannah to school and went inside with her. All morning, Hannah kept repeating that she wasn’t lying and that he would soon see for himself.
“Where is she?” Michael asked as they walked through the school corridors, his eyes scanning the halls.
“I don’t know. We need to find her,” Hannah replied, looking around anxiously.
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They walked further, passing classrooms and offices. Suddenly, Hannah shouted, “There! Mom!” She pointed at a cleaner standing with her back to them. Michael froze, his heart pounding.
From behind, the woman did look like Simone. Hannah ran up to her and gently tugged on her sleeve. Michael approached slowly, his mind racing.
When the woman turned around, Michael realized it wasn’t Simone. The resemblance had been uncanny from behind, but up close, it was clear she was a stranger.
“Oh, you’re not my mom,” Hannah said. She stepped back, her shoulders slumping.
“Unfortunately not, sweetie,” the woman replied kindly, giving Hannah a gentle smile.
After apologizing to the woman, Michael took Hannah’s hand and led her aside. “Hannah, this isn’t your mom. I know it’s hard to lose her, but your mom is in a better place now and is always watching over you,” he said softly.
“I know this isn’t Mom! I’m not blind,” Hannah said, her eyes filling with tears. “But she was here. I swear, I saw her.”
“Okay,” Michael sighed heavily, feeling the weight of her words.For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You don’t believe me!” Hannah shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. “Mom always believed me!” She turned and ran away from Michael.“Hannah!” he called after her, but she kept running, her small figure disappearing down the hall.
Michael returned to his car, feeling a deep sense of guilt. He knew Hannah and Simone had a special bond. He realized he could never replace her mother, but he would try his best to be there for his daughter.
Michael took time off work and scheduled an appointment with a psychologist for Hannah that very day after school. He picked her up and explained, “We’re going to see a lady you can talk to about anything. She’s here to help.”
Hannah crossed her arms and frowned, still angry with Michael. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” she muttered.
“I know you’re upset, but this might help,” Michael said gently as they drove to the psychologist’s office.
When they arrived, the psychologist greeted them warmly. “Hi, Hannah. I’m Dr. Stevens. Would you like to come with me?” she asked with a kind smile.
Hannah glanced at Michael, then reluctantly followed Dr. Stevens.
After an hour, Dr. Stevens came out to talk to Michael. She looked thoughtful and serious.
“How did it go?” Michael asked, his voice filled with concern.
Dr. Stevens smiled reassuringly. “I don’t see any signs of psychological issues. I don’t think she’s lying. Hannah genuinely believes she sees her mother at school.”
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Michael frowned. “But that’s impossible. Her mother is dead.”
“I understand,” Dr. Stevens said, nodding. “But everyone grieves in their own way. Hannah might not be ready to let go of her mother. She could be seeing her in others.”
“What should I do?” Michael asked, feeling lost.
“Support her. Believe her,” Dr. Stevens advised. “She’s not lying to you. This is her reality right now.”
Michael nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay, thank you.”
He picked up Hannah, and they headed home. On the way, he glanced at her, noticing she seemed a bit calmer, less angry. He hoped this was a step in the right direction.
The next day, Michael took Hannah to school again. As they arrived, her teacher approached his car. “I have some of Hannah’s drawings to show you,” the teacher said.
Michael got out of the car, curious. “Sure, let’s see them,” he replied, following the teacher.
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The teacher handed him a stack of drawings. Michael flipped through them, astonished. “These are amazing. I didn’t know Hannah could draw like this,” he said, feeling a swell of pride.
“She has real talent,” the teacher agreed.
Michael thanked the teacher and continued to look at the drawings as he walked into the hallway. He was so absorbed that he almost didn’t notice what was in front of him.
When he looked up, his heart nearly stopped. Standing there was Simone. Michael felt like he had forgotten how to breathe; his heart raced, and he couldn’t move.
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Just then, Hannah ran out of her classroom, her face lighting up when she saw the woman.
“Mom!” Hannah shouted, running towards the woman who looked exactly like her late mother. She turned to Michael with a triumphant smile. “I told you I was telling the truth.”
Michael stood frozen, his mind reeling. “Uh-huh,” he mumbled, unable to form any other words.
The teacher called Hannah back, and she reluctantly returned to her classroom. Michael, still in shock, slowly approached the woman. “Simone?” he asked, his voice shaking.
The woman looked at him, clearly confused. “Excuse me?” she said.
“Simone, is it really you?” Michael asked again, his heart pounding.
“I’m sorry, sir, but my name is Evelyn,” the woman replied firmly.
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“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Evelyn said, still looking puzzled
How is this possible? How did you end up here?” Michael asked.
“Sir, I really don’t understand what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my life. I think you must be mistaking me for someone else. I need to get back to work,” Evelyn said, turning to leave.
“You have a tattoo on your shoulder!” Michael shouted, desperate. Evelyn stopped in her tracks, frozen. “A chrysanthemum,” he added.
Evelyn turned around slowly, her eyes wide with surprise. “How do you know that?”
“You got it when Hannah was born. Hannah Chrysanthemum, that’s the name of the flower on your shoulder. You joked that even if Hannah grew up and forgot about you, the flower would always be with you,” Michael explained.
“Listen, this is very strange, and it’s scaring me,” she said, her eyes darting around nervously.
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“I also wanted to get that tattoo but was too scared. You were always braver than me,” Michael said.
“How do you know what tattoo I have? Have you been following me? First, that strange girl calls me her mother, and now you. I’m going to go crazy,” Evelyn said, her voice rising with fear.
“Please, let me explain everything. Will you have coffee with me?” Michael asked, his eyes pleading.
“I need to finish my work,” Evelyn replied, still looking wary.
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“I’ll wait for you outside,” Michael said, hoping she would agree.
Michael went outside and leaned against his car, his mind racing. He couldn’t believe this was real. After some time, Simone came out of the school and hesitantly approached him.
“Ready to go?” Michael asked softly.
Simone nodded, and they got into the car, driving to the nearest café. They ordered coffee. Black. Michael smiled, remembering how Simone always hated coffee with sugar or cream.
When their order arrived, Michael took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. We were married, and we have a daughter named Hannah.”
Simone looked confused but listened intently. “I don’t remember any of that,” she said softly. “Fishermen found me on the riverbank. They let me live with them, but I couldn’t remember anything about my life, not even my name. I chose the name Evelyn, but I don’t know why.”
Michael’s eyes softened. “We wanted to name our next daughter Evelyn,” he explained.
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Simone’s eyes widened. “Really?”
Michael nodded. “Yes. Hannah and I would love for you to come home with us. You don’t have to decide now, but think about it.”Simone looked down at her coffee. “Okay, I’ll come with you. But I still don’t remember anything.”
Michael smiled gently. “That’s alright. We can figure it out together.”Simone had been living with Michael and Hannah for a week. Hannah was very happy and constantly reminded Michael that she had been right.
Simone was also trying to adjust to her new life. Although she still couldn’t remember anything from before, she was trying her best to fit in.
Michael decided they should sleep in separate rooms for now. He wanted Simone to feel comfortable and not pressured.
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Today, after breakfast, Simone was finishing her coffee at the table while Michael washed the dishes. Hannah approached Simone with a serious look on her face.
“Mom, will you be mad at me if I quit ballet?” Hannah asked.
“Why would I be mad at you?” she asked, glancing at Michael, who stopped washing dishes to listen.
“You liked watching me dance. You wanted me to be a ballerina,” Hannah said quietly.
Simone smiled gently. “And what do you want to do?” she asked.
Hannah’s face lit up. “I want to draw!”
“Then you should draw,” Simone said. She turned to Michael. “Do you think we could enroll her in an art school?”
Michael smiled warmly. “Yes, definitely,” he replied.
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“Yay!” Hannah shouted. She hugged Simone tightly, then ran to Michael and hugged him before dashing off to her room.
Simone watched her go, then cautiously approached Michael, holding her coffee cup. “Let me wash this,” she offered.
Michael took the cup from her hands. “It’s okay, I’ll wash it,” he said with a smile. Simone smiled back but didn’t move away. She continued to stand there, watching him.
“Is everything okay?” Michael asked, noticing her hesitation.
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“Yes,” Simone said softly. “I think I remembered something.”
Michael turned to face her. “What did you remember?”
“We were standing by the sea, and a dog ran up to us. It first knocked me over and then knocked down an arch we were standing under,” Simone said.
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Michael laughed. “Yes, that was our wedding. The dog was Toby, my childhood pet. He adored you and couldn’t contain his excitement. That was your favorite story from our wedding.”
Simone smiled. “I think it will still be my favorite story when I remember everything,” she said.
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Michael smiled back, and Simone tentatively hugged him. Michael hugged her back, trying not to splash her with water and soap. He felt warmth and hope flood through him.
Just a few weeks ago, he couldn’t have imagined feeling this happy again. As he held her, he realized how much he had missed this closeness.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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