As Noah and Alice prepare for their upcoming wedding, Noah grows suspicious of the new lavish purchases that Alice has made—items that are above their pay grade. Later, a mysterious man disrupts their wedding. Who is he, and what does he want?
After three years together, Alice and I were finally getting married. Initially, we didn’t care about having a big wedding—we just wanted the day to be a culmination of our love story, a day where we’d stand before our family and friends.
A wedding invitation and RSVP card | Source: Pexels
And yet, despite everything unfolding perfectly, a cloud of unease had settled over me, one that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the recent changes I’d noticed in Alice.
“I just can’t wait for our big day,” Alice gushed over breakfast one morning. “I have a few surprises, but nothing set in stone yet.”
I had no clue what she was talking about, but I figured it would be worth it—Alice was always trying to make things special in her own way.
After three years together, Alice and I were finally getting married. Initially, we didn’t care about having a big wedding—we just wanted the day to be a culmination of our love story, a day where we’d stand before our family and friends.
A wedding invitation and RSVP card | Source: Pexels
And yet, despite everything unfolding perfectly, a cloud of unease had settled over me, one that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the recent changes I’d noticed in Alice.
“I just can’t wait for our big day,” Alice gushed over breakfast one morning. “I have a few surprises, but nothing set in stone yet.”
I had no clue what she was talking about, but I figured it would be worth it—Alice was always trying to make things special in her own way.
A couple eating breakfast in bed | Source: Pexels
But then, in the weeks leading up to our wedding, Alice acquired several expensive accessories—a branded bag, designer shoes, and even a pair of enormous diamond earrings. It all seemed out of reach for us.
We’d always been practical about our finances, understanding our limitations. So, when I saw these designer items, I couldn’t help but question how Alice could afford them.
I asked her about it—I didn’t want to begin a new life with Alice without knowing.
“Are you sure we can afford this?” I asked, holding up the shopping bag, its content a silent accusation.
A pair of bridal shoes and earrings | Source: Pexels
Alice had been gone for most of the day, with her phone set to silent. I didn’t know where she had been, and my mind ran marathons. For a moment, I assumed the worst—that Alice was seeing someone else, someone who had splurged on luxury items.
“I got a bonus at work, Noah,” she said. “I just want to be perfect for our wedding. I want to go all out for this one day in my life.”
Alice smiled at me, a slow and reassuring smile.
I believed her. Of course, I did.
A woman smiling at the camera | Source: Pexels
Her explanation eased my worries, temporarily silencing the nagging voice in my head. And I was grateful because I wouldn’t willingly get married to Alice while nursing these treacherous thoughts.
As the ceremony began, Alice looked radiant, the very image of happiness, yet her eyes occasionally drifted to the hall’s entrance.
We stood there, listening to the priest speak about love and commitment inside and outside of marriage. Alice’s hand, tucked inside mine, grew sweatier as he spoke.
She continued to glance at the entrance the entire time.
“Are you okay?” I murmured to her. “What’s wrong?”
Alice shook her head slightly and smiled ahead at the priest.
A priest holding the bride and groom | Source: Pexels
We went ahead and said our vows, Alice’s eyes still flickering to the door.
Who did she expect to show up? I wondered.
The priest’s voice echoed through the venue once more—a solemn call for any objections to our marriage.
“If anyone here has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Silence reigned, causing me to smile.
But it was shattered within seconds by the dramatic entrance of a man whose presence immediately caused Alice’s face to light up in a way that I hadn’t seen throughout the entire ceremony.
A man wearing a suit | Source: Pexels
Every muscle in my body seized.
“Stop it!” the man boomed. “Stop the ceremony!”
Alice gasped, clasping her hands to her chest.
“I’m so sorry for interrupting the ceremony! I know I’m late, Father,” he said. “But please, let me just walk my little girl down the aisle. I’ve broken all promises to her, but this one, I can’t.”
Our guests murmured, their shock evident. Alice’s mother was on her feet, her hands clutching Alice’s bouquet tightly.
A shocked woman wearing blue | Source: Pexels
“Alice, is that…?” I began, my voice trailing off as the reality of the situation dawned on me.
Of course. Alice had the man’s eyes, and his chin. It was clear.
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s my dad.”
Her father, a man who had been more absent than present in her life, had chosen this moment to fulfill a promise, to be there for his daughter when it mattered the most.
“Shall I carry on?” the priest asked me.
“No, let’s do the walk again,” I smiled.
A bride holding her father’s hand | Source: Pexels
As her father took her arm, guiding her toward me, I saw Alice in a new light. She finally looked like a bride who had been waiting for this day.
She beamed.
We began the ceremony again. This time, Alice laughed through her vows and cried through mine.
Afterward, her father embraced me tightly.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for looking after my girl.”
Later, when Alice and I were in our rented car, being driven off to the airport for our honeymoon, she told me everything.
A bride and groom sitting in a car | Source: Pexels
It turned out that Alice had reached out to her father a few weeks before the wedding. They had been speaking on and off over the years, but when it came down to our wedding—she just wanted him to walk her down the aisle.
“My dad bought me the handbag,” she admitted. “But the shoes and earrings were from my bonus.”
I’m not sure if my father-in-law plans on being a part of our lives, but I do know that I’m grateful he walked Alice down the aisle.
“Maybe he’ll stick around,” she said later when we were sipping on champagne.
Maybe he will.
A person holding a glass of champagne | Source: Pexels
Do you have any similar stories?
The House Was So Cheap I Thought I Won the Lottery, but When I Saw the Basement, I Understood Everything — Story of the Day
was tired of paying rent my whole life and was ready to fulfill my dream of buying my own house. A dream home at an unbeatable price seemed like the ultimate win—until I realized there were reasons for the low price hidden in the basement.
The first time I saw the house, I could hardly believe my luck.
It was like something from a postcard—a charming colonial with white siding and green shutters, tucked away at the end of a quiet, tree-lined street.
Sure, the paint was peeling a little, and the roof could use some work, but it had character. A lived-in charm that felt… welcoming. Almost.
Susan, the real estate agent, was waiting by the front door, her grin as bright as the clipboard of documents she waved in the air.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Perfect day to finalize your dream home, huh?” she said, her tone so chipper it made me wonder if she was trying a little too hard.
I nodded, eager to see inside. The house didn’t disappoint. Room by room, it seemed to reveal more reasons for me to fall in love.
The living room had a fireplace that practically begged for stockings at Christmas, and the hardwood floors creaked just enough to remind you they had a history.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Susan trailed behind me, her heels clicking against the floor as she narrated.
“You won’t find a deal like this anywhere else,” she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“A home like this at this price? Practically unheard of.”
She was right, and I knew it. Still, something felt off—just a whisper of doubt at the back of my mind. It grew louder when we reached the basement door.
Unlike the others, this one had a lock. Not a simple latch, but a solid, heavy-duty lock that didn’t belong in a cozy house like this.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What’s down there?” I asked, pointing at the door.
Susan’s smile faltered, just for a second. She quickly recovered, but the hesitation had been enough.
“Oh, the basement,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss it. “Just your standard storage space. I… uh… misplaced the key. I’ll have it sent over later.”
Her voice wavered, and the way she avoided my gaze made my stomach twist. But I told myself I was overthinking it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
After all, this was my dream house, right? A place where I could start afresh.
I signed the papers, and Susan left in a hurry, her heels clicking faster than before.
By the time I started unloading boxes from my car, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street.
That’s when I noticed her—an older woman standing on the porch of the house next door.
Her face was a map of deep wrinkles, and her thin lips curled into a tight, disapproving line, like she’d just bitten into a lemon.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Hi there!” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m your new neighbor.”
She didn’t answer. She just stared, her eyes narrowing before she turned and disappeared inside her house without a word.
The screen door slammed shut behind her.
I shrugged, telling myself she was probably just one of those grumpy types. Still, her silence gnawed at me.
I spent the rest of the day unpacking, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that lingered.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
By the time I collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the house settling around me like it was testing me, deciding if I belonged.
I woke to a sound that pulled me from the depths of sleep, a sound I couldn’t quite place.
At first, I thought it might’ve been the wind rattling the old windows, but then it came again—soft and eerie, like a child’s giggle.
My heart started pounding, loud and insistent, and I lay still for a moment, straining to hear more. Was I dreaming?
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The giggle came again, clearer this time. High-pitched, carefree, and completely out of place in the stillness of the night.
My throat tightened as fear prickled down my spine. I sat up, scanning the darkened room.
Shadows stretched across the walls, and the only sound was the ticking of the old clock above the mantel. But the giggle was real. I knew it.
Swallowing my nerves, I grabbed the closest thing I could find—a mop leaning against the corner of the room.
My palms were already sweaty, and the handle felt slippery as I gripped it tightly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I crept through the house, the hardwood floors creaking beneath my feet. My breathing was shallow, and every step made my chest tighten further.
The sound grew louder as I approached the basement door. The lock on it glinted faintly in the dim light. I stopped, staring at the door as if it might move on its own.
My stomach churned as I raised the mop, holding it like a weapon. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaking.
Silence. For a moment, I thought maybe the sound had been in my head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Then it came again—a giggle, followed by a soft, whispering hush that sent goosebumps racing up my arms.
I couldn’t bring myself to open the door. Instead, I backed away, grabbing my phone and dialing 911 with trembling fingers.
The dispatcher’s calm voice tried to soothe me, but all I could do was stammer about the noises.
Twenty minutes felt like an eternity before the flashing red and blue lights finally appeared outside.
A single officer stepped out, his posture relaxed, his face unimpressed. “So, what’s going on here?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“There’s someone in the basement,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “I heard laughing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Laughing, huh?” With a sigh, he fetched a crowbar from his car and approached the door.
The sound of the lock snapping open echoed in the quiet house. I held my breath as he disappeared down the stairs, his flashlight casting strange, flickering shadows.
Minutes later, he reappeared, shaking his head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Just cobwebs and dust,” he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Nothing down there.”
“But I heard it!” I protested, heat rising to my face.
He smirked, shrugging.
“You’re not the first. Last few owners said the same thing. If you’re scared, maybe this isn’t the house for you.”
I clenched my fists, my frustration bubbling. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Suit yourself, and good luck with the haunted house.” He left laughing, leaving me standing in the hallway, mop in hand, seething as the sound of his cruiser faded into the night.
The next morning, my phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the quiet stillness of the house.
I picked it up and glanced at the screen. A number I didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Margaret,” a thin, raspy voice said on the other end.
“The previous owner. Just checking in to see how you’re settling in.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her voice immediately put me on edge, like she already knew something I didn’t. I hesitated before replying.
“The house is lovely,” I said cautiously. “But… something strange happened last night.”
There was a pause. I could hear her breathing, soft and uneven. Then she sighed—a long, heavy sound that made my stomach drop.
“You’re not the first, Clara” she admitted finally.
“There’s… a history with that house. Some say it’s haunted. I’ve tried to fix it, but nothing ever helps.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Haunted? The word hung in the air like a fog. My fingers tightened around the phone. “What kind of history?” I asked, my voice firmer than I felt.
She dodged the question.
“If you want out, I’m willing to buy it back,” she said quickly, her tone almost desperate. “Not the full price, but close enough.”
Her offer was tempting. I wouldn’t have to deal with the creepy noises or the weird basement.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But the thought of giving up made my pride bristle. I’d worked hard for this house. I wasn’t about to walk away.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ll figure this out.”
After we hung up, I grabbed a flashlight and headed for the basement. The air was cool and damp, carrying the stale smell of mildew.
I swept the beam of light across the basement. Dusty shelves, old pipes, and cobwebs filled my view.
Then I noticed something strange—scuff marks on the floor near the vent. Faint but deliberate, like something had been moved. My pulse quickened. Something wasn’t adding up.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
That night, I lay in bed, the blankets pulled tightly around me, every muscle tense. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, listening to the silence.
It wasn’t peaceful, though. It felt like the house was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Then, it came. The giggle. That same eerie, childlike sound that sent chills racing down my spine.
I sat up, heart pounding, but this time, it wasn’t just laughter. A faint hissing followed, like air escaping a tire.
My chest tightened as I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs, each step creaking louder than I wanted.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
When I reached the basement door, I froze. A pale mist was creeping out from underneath, curling like ghostly fingers into the hallway.
My breath caught, and I fumbled for my phone, quickly dialing 911.
It wasn’t long before the now-familiar police cruiser pulled up. The same officer stepped out, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
“Again?” he said, shaking his head as he approached.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, another car pulled into the driveway. Margaret stepped out, her face pale and drawn, her movements nervous.
“I heard what’s happening,” she said, avoiding my gaze.
“Let’s all go down together,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady. The officer sighed but nodded, his flashlight already in hand.
Margaret hesitated, but with a glance at me, she reluctantly agreed.
The basement was just as empty as before—dusty shelves, cobwebs, and shadows.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“See? Nothing,” the officer said, his frustration obvious. “You sure you’re not imagining things?”
I wasn’t backing down. “I set up a camera,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s check the footage.”
I pressed play. The video showed Margaret sneaking into the basement.
She unlocked the door, placed a small speaker near the vent, and set up a fog machine before quickly leaving.
The officer’s jaw tightened. “Well, well,” he muttered. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a case.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret’s face flushed red. “I… I was just trying to get the house back!” she stammered. “I didn’t mean any harm!”
The officer snapped handcuffs onto her wrists. “You can explain that to the judge.”
As they led her away, I stood in the doorway of my house, breathing deeply. For the first time, I felt like it was truly mine. I had fought for it, and I had won.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: It was a tough life for Molly. Her main concern was her son, Tommy. The constant changing of schools and towns wasn’t good for him. He started bullying other kids and starting fights. She never imagined that one call to the principal’s office would restore a part of her life she thought was lost.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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