The dimly lit living room that was once filled with a child’s laughter reminded Eleanor over and over again of her profound loss and her inability to move forward. She and her husband, Joseph, lost their daughter Ava to cancer and nothing has been the same ever since. The grief and the pain that settled into Eleanor’s hard was extremely hard to even try to overcome. Eventually, the loss affected her realtionship with Joseph and the two split.
All Eleanor could wish for was to be a mother again.
Five years after Ava’s passing, she decided to adopt a child. Spending hours and hours on adoption sites, Eleanor’s attention was caught by the image of a young girl named Charlotte. This girl’s resemblance to Ava was incredible. They not only had the same hair color, but it seemed to Eleanor that they also shared facial features.
Without hesitating even a bit, Eleanor called Grace Adoption Services.
“Hello, this is Grace Adoption Services. I’m Samantha. How can I assist you today?” a warm voice came on the other end.
“My name is Eleanor. I’m hoping to adopt, and a little girl on your website has caught my attention,” she said, scratching her head.
“We’ll set up an appointment for you to come in and meet us. It’s always best if we do this in person.”
Eleanor was quick to agree. “I’m ready to take that step,” she said. “I want to make a difference in a child’s life.”
On the day of the meeting, Eleanor waited nervously at Samantha’s office.
“It’s wonderful to meet you in person,” Samantha greeted her. “I’ve read your application and can already tell you’d be an amazing parent.”
Eleanor was asked of the reasons she wanted to adopt and plenty of other questions about her background. She was also asked about her partner, with Samantha telling her that two-parent household had greater chances of adopting a child.
Eleanor explained that her relationship with her ex crumbled after the loss of their daughter, but the two were still in contact and trying to mend things between them.
Eleanor then left the agency with high hopes of being able to adopt Charlotte. She was so certain that her wish of becoming a mother again would come true that she even set a child’s room and bought everything Charlotte would need if she becomes her daughter.
What followed was a meeting at the park between Eleanor and Charlotte. Once she laid eyes on her in person, Eleanor was once again struck by the child’s resemblance with late Ava. She bought some coloring books and markers which Charlotte accepted with a quiet “Thank you” as a response.
The day was filled with fun and laughter, and Charlotte even told Eleanor that she would love her to be her mom because she didn’t want to be in the foster care any longer.
In the following weeks, Eleanor and Charlotte developed a stronger bond as Charlotte visited Eleanor’s home, explored her new bedroom, and shared meals with her.
Finally, Eleanor called Joseph. “Ellie,” he greeted warmly. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I have some big news to share. Can we meet tomorrow?” she told him.
The following day, Eleanor explained to Joseph that she wanted to adopt. “I can see this means a lot to you. It’s good to see you so alive again,” he responded. “I can’t let grief consume me,” she said. “We can’t let grief consume us.”
In the days to come, Joseph joined Eleanor and Charlotte to dinners and visited them in the house.
Charlotte was happy in what she hoped would be her forever home. “I’ve never had a mom like you. I don’t want to go back to foster care,” she told Eleanor. “I will be, sweetheart. I’ll be your mom forever.”
Finally, the adoption day arrived and Eleanor invited her closest family and friends to witness the beautiful moment. Joseph was also there.
At the hearing, Eleanor and Charlotte stood hand in hand before the judge as he finalized the adoption. Eleanor’s eyes filled with joyful tears as she looked at Charlotte, realizing they were beginning a new chapter together.
In her new environment, Charlotte flourished, serving as a reminder of the love Eleanor and Joseph once lost and the abundant love they still had to offer.
Being part of their lives, Charlotte brought Eleanor and Joseph closer together, and they rekindled their relationship.
One day, out of the blue, Eleanor received a call from Samantha. Her voice sounded strange and Eleanor heart skipped a beat because she could sense something was wrong.
“Eleanor, Charlotte’s biological mother has contacted me,” the adoption agency owner revealed. “She claimed that Joseph could be Charlotte’s biological father.”
“What? Charlotte could be Ava’s half-sister?” Eleanor whispered.
“We need to confront Joseph about this,” Samantha advised. “If he denies it, a paternity test may be necessary.”
“Why does it matter if she gave the kid up?”
“She said that the affair was quick, but if the biological dad suddenly wants to be in the picture, she may want to challenge the adoption,” Samantha explained. “I just want to be sure nothing can mess with Charlotte’s happiness.”
Eleanor hung up the phone and approached Joseph who was gardening outside. She told him what Samantha told her and asked him if he had had an affair with someone. Joseph confessed that he had a one-night thing with a woman whom he met in a support group for grieving parents he had joined after Ava’s death and their separation.
“It was a terrible mistake,” he confessed.
“You mean to say that you might be Charlotte’s father then if this woman gave her up for adoption?” Eleanor asked in horror.
“I left the group soon after she told me she was pregnant. But she might have given the child up for adoption,” Joseph nodded.
Eleanor, overwhelmed, asked about a paternity test which Joseph agreed without hesitation, “I will. I’ll own up to this all the way.”
While they waited for the results, Eleanor spoke to Samantha constantly. “In most jurisdictions, once an adoption is complete, it is generally irreversible,” her now-friend explained softly. When the results finally came Eleanor had a hard time breathing as they were opening the envelope that could change their lives yet again. She read it slowly, “Joseph is…not Charlotte’s father! Thank God!”
Upon hearing this news, Eleanor saw Charlotte’s resemblance to Ava as a miraculous coincidence and a second chance for her family. Through Charlotte, Ava could forever remain a part of them.
The Mothers of a Couple Turned Thanksgiving Into a Living Hell for Their Newlywed Kids — Story of the Day
Two stubborn mothers arrive at Thanksgiving with their own plans, sparking a rivalry that fills the kitchen with smoke and tension. As surprises unfold, the family faces one unforgettable holiday where tempers flare, loyalties are tested, and a last-minute twist reminds them of what truly matters.
Thick, dark smoke swirled through the house, making it hard to breathe. Kira coughed, struggling to take in air as she pressed her hand over her mouth. Her other hand protectively rested on her pregnant belly, and she glanced at Michael with wide, anxious eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
They moved cautiously toward the kitchen, where the thickest smoke seemed to gather. There, like two children caught in the act, stood Margaret and Rebecca, each looking as startled as the other.
Their faces were smudged with black soot, their eyes wide and guilty, while the oven door hung open, revealing a turkey charred beyond recognition.
“What is going on here?!” Michael yelled, his eyes darting from his mother to his mother-in-law, then to the smoky kitchen around them.
“This old woman—” Rebecca started, pointing an accusing finger at Margaret.
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“Old woman? Look who’s talking!” Margaret interrupted, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms.
Rebecca glared. “If you hadn’t barged in here—”
Margaret shot back, “Barged in? You’re the one who can’t cook!”
Their voices grew louder, words tumbling over each other, turning into a mess of jabs and shouts, each trying to talk over the other. Insults flew back and forth as if they’d forgotten anyone else was there.
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“Please, stop,” Kira whispered, clutching her belly, but they didn’t hear her.
Kira winced, feeling a sharp pain. “Stop! I’m in labor!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Both women froze, their faces stunned. Then, suddenly, the turkey burst into flames in the oven. Margaret and Rebecca shrieked, grabbing towels to fight the fire, while Kira moaned in pain, and Michael stood there, helpless, eyes wide in shock.
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One Week Earlier…
Margaret drove up to her daughter Kira’s house, feeling a spark of excitement. She held a fresh-baked pie on her lap, proud of the surprise she had planned.
Without calling ahead, she parked, stepped out, and walked up the front steps, smiling at the thought of catching them off guard. She knocked firmly, and before long, Michael opened the door, blinking in surprise.
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“Margaret… what are you doing here?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“I decided to surprise you,” Margaret replied cheerfully, holding out a pie. “I thought a little treat might be nice.”
Michael took the pie, glancing back toward the kitchen, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “Thanks, Margaret. Um, come on in.”
Margaret stepped inside, slipping off her coat, and instantly heard voices from the kitchen. She paused, recognizing the tone of Rebecca’s voice. With a raised brow, she followed the sound and found Kira seated, listening as Rebecca talked in her usual, commanding way.
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Rebecca was in mid-sentence, her words calm yet firm. “It’s important to establish good habits early. Babies need a routine, structure.”
Margaret felt a surge of irritation. “Why are you bothering my daughter?”
Rebecca looked over, blinking, and gave a tight smile. “I’m just giving her a little parenting advice.”
Margaret scoffed. “Parenting advice? And what do you know about raising kids?”
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Rebecca’s smile vanished. “Excuse me? Your daughter is married to my son, after all. I think that gives me some right to speak.”
“Oh, well, apologies accepted,” Margaret said with a dry laugh. “Though I recall your son didn’t even know how to wash his own dishes when he started dating Kira. I had to teach him myself!”
“How dare you!” Rebecca snapped.
Michael stepped into the kitchen. “Please, calm down. Let’s keep things peaceful, all right?”
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Kira gave a tired sigh. “There will be a little baby in this house soon,” she said softly. “We want a positive atmosphere here. No fighting.”
Margaret nodded, sitting down at the table. “You’re right, Kira. I want the best for this family. And, well, since we’re all here, even if some people weren’t exactly welcome…” Her gaze shifted pointedly to Rebecca. “Why don’t we talk about Thanksgiving? I’ll make my signature turkey—”
Rebecca cut her off. “Actually, I was going to suggest we celebrate at my place this year.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “We celebrate at my place every year. It’s tradition.”
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Rebecca crossed her arms. “Traditions can change. I’m tired of sneezing from your silly cat.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Better to have a cat than to celebrate in a snake’s den.”
Rebecca’s voice rose. “Who do you think you are?!”
Kira sighed heavily, covering her face with her hands. Michael gently patted her back. “I think we should celebrate here this year,” he offered quickly.
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“What?” Kira blurted, surprised.
“It’ll be fine, Kira. I’ll help you with the cooking,” Michael assured her.
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“It’s better than all this arguing,” Michael replied.
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Kira nodded wearily. “He’s right. My head is pounding.”
Rebecca softened a little. “At least let me help. I can make the turkey.”
Kira sighed. “Fine.”
“But what about my signature turkey?” Margaret asked, hurt.
“Just this once, Mom,” Kira pleaded.
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Margaret paused, then gave in with a nod. “All right. For you, Kira,” she said, though a secret plan was already forming in her mind.
On Thanksgiving morning, Margaret rose early, her mind set on her plan. She was ready, having spent the entire week gathering the perfect ingredients. She packed up her turkey, herbs, spices, and everything needed to create her well-loved recipe.
She carefully tucked everything into a basket and drove over to Kira and Michael’s house. She knew Kira and Michael were out, so there was no time to waste.
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She reached their front door, taking out the spare key Kira had given her, meant only for emergencies. But today, Margaret felt this was important enough.
As she stepped inside, she paused, listening. A muffled noise drifted from the kitchen—pots clanging, cabinets closing. Margaret froze, her mind racing. Kira and Michael’s car wasn’t outside, so it wasn’t them.
Her eyes darted around, and she spotted an umbrella by the door. She grabbed it firmly and walked toward the kitchen, her heart pounding. She raised the umbrella as she peeked inside.
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There, bent over the counter, was Rebecca, elbows deep in turkey preparations. Margaret stopped short, barely holding back from swinging the umbrella.
“Are you completely insane?!” Rebecca shouted.
Margaret glared back. “I thought you were a burglar! What are you even doing here?”
Rebecca crossed her arms. “Kira gave me permission to cook here. But what are you doing here?”
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Margaret calmly set her basket on the counter. “I’m here to make my turkey.”
Rebecca scowled. “That wasn’t the deal.”
Margaret smirked. “What’s wrong? Afraid mine will taste better?”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “We’ll just have to see about that!”
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The kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of clanking pots and muttered complaints as Margaret and Rebecca worked side by side, each determined to make the best turkey.
They bumped elbows, snatched spices from each other’s reach, and exchanged pointed glares. Margaret sprinkled her herbs, pretending not to notice when Rebecca nudged her arm slightly, causing salt to spill. Rebecca hummed loudly, ignoring Margaret’s muttering about “rookie mistakes.”
Finally, Margaret finished her turkey, carefully placing it in the oven with a triumphant grin. She noticed the irritation in Rebecca’s eyes but ignored it, brushing her hands off as she headed to the living room to relax.
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After a while, a strange, burnt smell filled the air. Alarmed, Margaret rushed back to the kitchen, finding Rebecca desperately waving a towel, trying to fan away thick smoke billowing from the oven.
“What did you do?!” Margaret shouted, glaring at Rebecca.
Rebecca crossed her arms. “I didn’t do anything! Maybe you don’t know how to cook.”
Margaret stormed over to the oven, eyeing the controls. She noticed the temperature had been changed. “You did this! You’re trying to ruin my turkey!”
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Rebecca leaned in with a smirk. “I didn’t touch it. If it’s ruined, it’s your own fault!”
Margaret pulled open the oven door, only to be hit by a wave of thick, black smoke that poured out into the kitchen. She coughed and squinted, trying to see through the haze.
There, in the center of the oven, was her turkey—charred to a solid black lump. It looked nothing like the golden masterpiece she’d imagined.
Moments later, Michael and Kira walked through the door, both stopping short at the smoky mess. Instantly, Margaret and Rebecca began shouting, each blaming the other.
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But suddenly, Kira doubled over, clutching her belly. “Michael… it’s time!” she gasped, gripping his hand.
As Michael guided Kira to the car, Margaret watched, her heart pounding with worry for her daughter.
“Take a cab,” Michael said firmly. “I don’t want either of you stressing Kira out with more arguments.” With that, he helped Kira into the car, then got in and drove off without waiting for their reply.
Margaret huffed. “Well, we can take my car.”
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Rebecca nodded, looking tired herself. “Fine, let’s go.”
When they arrived at the hospital, the nurse informed them that only Michael was allowed in the room with Kira. Margaret and Rebecca found two chairs in the hallway and sat down, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. They fidgeted, glanced around, and avoided each other’s eyes.
Finally, Margaret cleared her throat. “I think we need a truce,” she said quietly. “We almost ruined Thanksgiving, and if Kira hadn’t gone into labor… well, we would have ruined it for her.”
Rebecca nodded slowly, her face softening. “I agree. I don’t want my granddaughter thinking her grandma’s a nutcase.” She paused, then looked at Margaret directly. “So, peace?”
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Margaret nodded, extending her hand. “Peace,” she repeated.
Rebecca took her hand, giving it a firm shake.
Just then, Michael stepped out, smiling. “You can see your granddaughter now,” he said, motioning for them to come in.
Both women leapt up, hurrying to the room. Inside, Kira lay on the hospital bed, smiling, with a tiny bundle cradled in her arms.
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Rebecca leaned over, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s beautiful,” she said softly.
Margaret nodded, reaching out to touch the baby’s tiny hand. “And she looks like both of you,” she added with a smile.
A nurse walked in, carrying a tray. “Dinner for the new mom,” she announced, setting it on the bedside table. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, we went with a holiday-themed meal.” The tray held slices of turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green peas.
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Margaret chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new Thanksgiving tradition.”
“No way!” Kira exclaimed with a laugh. “I am not going through this every year!”
Everyone burst out laughing, and though it wasn’t the Thanksgiving they’d planned, it was the one they truly needed.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When Rick returns to his small hometown after his grandmother’s passing, he inherits her old bookstore—a place full of memories from his childhood. But as he starts cleaning, he uncovers hidden secrets about his grandmother’s life that change everything. Read the full story here.
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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