My Future MIL Gave Me 10 Rules for Being the Perfect DIL, So I Followed Them in a Way She’d Never Forget — Story of the Day

My future MIL gave me a list of 10 rules to become the “perfect” wife for her son. I smiled, nodded… and decided to follow every one of them. Just not the way she expected.

I’d always been an ordinary woman with ordinary needs. Nothing extravagant. I wanted to work, have a few hobbies, maybe travel a bit, and one day build a family.

I didn’t equate life with grand happiness — I simply lived it and appreciated what I had.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Until I met Dylan.

My friends used to talk about him like he’d stepped straight out of a luxury shower gel commercial.

“He supports everyone, no matter what!”

“His suits are always spotless.”

“And he never forgets to open the door for a lady. Never!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

I used to smile politely, not quite believing men like that existed outside romcoms. But the first time Dylan took my hand in his — I got it.

Dylan made my life feel cinematic. Almost too good to be true. I found myself blooming next to him, dreaming bigger, smiling more. I even started cooking with joy.

We moved in together pretty quickly, and strangely, domestic life didn’t ruin the magic. If anything, it strengthened it. The toothbrush next to mine and the grocery runs were small rituals that made me fall harder.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Everything felt… easy. The perfection of it didn’t scare me. It reminded me how simple love could be when two people were honest.

That evening, we were having dinner at our favorite trattoria. But Dylan seemed… different. Fidgety.

“You okay?” I asked, smiling softly when we finally went outside.

He nodded and suddenly… he knelt. In the middle of the street. With a proposal ring in a tiny box.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“I knew it from the moment you said pesto was overrated,” he began. “That’s when I realized… I want to wake up next to you, even on the days you’re mad at me for forgetting to bring home oat milk. You’re my heart. Will you be my wife?”

Something in my chest melted completely.

“Yes… Of course, yes.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

He slipped the ring onto my finger. The tables around us erupted in applause. It was perfect.

Right up until the following day, when Dylan said,

“I think it’s time you meet my mom. You’re going to adore her…”

And that’s when I felt the tiniest tremor in our fairytale. The kind that makes you wonder… if the perfect story is about to take a turn.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

We didn’t wait long to plan the trip. Dylan was too excited to tell his mom the news. So the very next morning — it was Saturday — we packed an overnight bag and hit the road to his parents’ place in the countryside.

Dylan hummed along to some 80s playlist as he drove, while I tried to decide if I was overdressed.

“Just wait till you try her lemon tart. Mom’s a legend in the kitchen. And she’s so excited to meet you.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I laughed, nervously. “Sounds… charming?”

“She’s amazing. You’ll see.”

In half an hour, the front door flew open before we even knocked.

“Diiiiilan!” a sing-song voice echoed, and there she was. Elen.

The woman wore head-to-toe baby pink — a satin blouse with a bow the size of a toddler and matching trousers.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“And you must be the darling girl!” she squealed, pulling me into a hug.

Elen smelled of roses and baby powder. I sneezed quietly into her shoulder. As soon as she inhaled the soft trail of my perfume, she gave a tiny cough.

“Oh my,” she said with a polite little wince. “Is that… jasmine?”

I nodded, already regretting it.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Lovely… if one can tolerate it. Tee-hee!”

Great… Two seconds into our first hug and we already have a mutual allergy to each other’s taste in perfume. Coincidence? Unlikely.

“Look at those cheeks! You are real!” Elen giggled, giving Dylan’s arm a little slap. “She’s prettier than your last girlfriend.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Mom…” Dylan chuckled, clearly charmed.

We walked through the garden toward the house, and for a moment I let myself admire the rose bushes until my eyes landed on something… unexpected.

A small bronze statue, oddly placed between two ceramic bunnies. Elen noticed. Of course, she did.

“That’s my little Cupid,” she said proudly.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

The poor thing had a chipped wing, a dented face, and an overall expression.

“I found it in a darling little antique shop upstate,” she went on. “Of course, it arrived scratched. But he has character.”

Her voice wavered just enough to give her away — she adored the odd little creature.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

We walked in. The house was a shrine to florals. Floral curtains, floral sofa cushions, even a porcelain tissue box shaped like a bouquet.

Over tea (served in rose-patterned cups, naturally), Elen asked me questions so sweetly I almost didn’t notice the blades hiding behind them.

“So, do you actually work, or is it more of a hobby?”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Uh… well, I have a full-time job in marketing,” I said, trying to smile. “It’s…”

“She’s really talented,” Dylan cut in proudly.

Each time, she ended with a sharp little laugh, like a kitten pawing you after unsheathing its claws.

“Tee-hee!”

Dylan, bless him, looked enchanted.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Isn’t she just the cutest?” he whispered to me later. “She’s always been so warm.”

Warm. Like a scented candle right before it gives you a headache.

After dinner, Dylan stepped out to the garage with his father to check on some old stereo system. Elen and I were left alone. She stood. Smoothed her pink blouse.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Now that it’s just us girls. I think it’s time we had a little honest talk, don’t you?”

I froze, my spoon halfway to the crème brûlée.

“You’re going to marry my son. So it’s only fair that I tell you exactly what’s expected of you as a future perfect daughter-in-law.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

She reached into a drawer. And pulled out a pink sheet of paper with little roses printed along the edges.

“These are just a few small expectations,” she said sweetly. “I find it helps if we’re all on the same page.”

She placed it in front of me. Across the top, in pink script, I read:

“10 Rules for the Ideal Future Daughter-in-Law.”

At that moment I realized — I might be holding the contract to my horror movie.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

It was Sunday afternoon. My friends and I were curled up on the couch in my apartment with two open pizza boxes and three untouched oat milk lattes that had gone cold ages ago.

I didn’t need caffeine. I had rage.

“Start from the beginning,” Emma said. “I want to picture the whole pastel nightmare.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

I took a breath and stared into the middle distance, letting the horror replay.

“Okay. So we get there, and she’s dressed like a life-sized cupcake. Baby pink from head to toe. She hugs me, coughs at my jasmine perfume, and… And…”

Sasha snorted. “I knew it. I knew she’d be a tee-hee monster.”

“And the house? Floral vomit. Everywhere. The tissue box had roses.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Emma leaned in.

“Did she bring out the list immediately?”

I held up a finger. “Not yet. First, she asked if I actually work or if it’s just, you know, a hobby.”

“No!” Sasha gasped. “She did not.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Oh, she did. And then,” I continued, voice rising, “she pulls out a list.”

Emma’s jaw dropped.

“What kind of medieval sorcery is that?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“She reached into a drawer like it was a magic hat — and pulled out my personal horror scroll. Pink. Floral. Smug.”

I reached into my bag and tossed the folded sheet on the table.

“I couldn’t sleep that night. I read it so many times, it’s burned into my brain.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

My friends leaned over to read. I watched their faces twist with each line. Here’s what it said:

1. Lose 10 pounds before the wedding. No exceptions.

2. Agree with your mother-in-law. Always.

3. Get a proper job. Hobbies are not working

4. Handle all housework. Without complaining.

5. Clean my house every weekend. Bathrooms included.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

6. I will choose the baby’s name. No discussion.

7. Cut contact with all men except your husband. Even at work.

8. Give me a key to your home. I need full access.

9. Keep your phone’s location on at all times.

10. Do not argue with me. I am always right.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Emma leaned back slowly.

“That woman is two pearls away from full-blown dictatorship.”

Sasha looked at me.

“So… what did you do? Did you tell Dylan?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“No. I didn’t want to crush him. Not yet. But I knew I had to wake him up from the syrupy-pink fog Elen’s got him in.”

“You didn’t…”

“Oh, I did. I decided to follow the rules. Every single one. With my own interpretation.”

“You’re going to play her game?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Exactly. I start next weekend. With item number five.”

Sasha grabbed it and read aloud.

“Clean my house every weekend. Bathrooms included.”

“Oh, I’m going,” I said, already feeling that fire in my chest. “But the cleaning won’t be quite what she expects.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

It was Saturday morning. Sun shining, birds chirping, my revenge plan locked and loaded. I had Dylan’s spare key from Elen’s house.

I arrived at 10 a.m. in full cleaning mode. Rubber gloves. A tote bag filled with goodies. A fresh can of ultra-strong jasmine air freshener. And a single red sock.

Let the games begin.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Step one: Laundry. I found her perfectly folded white sheets — Egyptian cotton, monogrammed — and casually tossed them into the washer with the red sock I’d brought for this very mission. The cycle began. I grinned.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Step two: Scent domination. I sprayed jasmine air freshener in every corner of every room.

Two spritzes in the bathroom.

Three in the hallway.

One on the welcome mat — because first impressions matter.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Step three: The rearrangement. I moved her ceramic angel collection from the fireplace mantel to the kitchen counter. The TV remote went into the wardrobe. Her favorite slippers? Her “FAMILY IS FOREVER” wooden sign? Hung upside down.

And then came the Cupid. That little bronze nightmare glared at me from the garden, as if daring me.

I wrapped him gently in a towel and carried him to…I’ll tell you later.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

By noon, the house was spotless. But it no longer screamed “Elen.” It screamed “new management.”

I closed the door behind me and practically skipped home.

***

The next morning, just as I was tying my sneakers to head out, someone started pounding on my door. I opened it.

Elen stood there, wild-eyed, hair slightly askew, holding a pink bedsheet like it was a crime scene photo.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“You turned my entire house into a scented circus!” she yelled. “Everything smells like cheap perfume! My shirts are pink! And where is my Cupid?!”

I blinked innocently.

“Oh, good morning. I think you are fond of pink.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t ‘good morning’ me! I want everything back the way it was! Now!”

“Oh… sorry. Can’t.”

She stared at me.

“I’m late for the gym,” I said casually, tying my shoelace tighter. “Punct number one on your list, remember? Lose ten pounds before the wedding.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“And the statue?” she hissed.

“Oh, I thought It’s trash. So I hired guys to get it out.”

“How dare you?!”

Just then, Dylan appeared behind me, rubbing his eyes.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Mom? Why are you yelling?”

“Ask her!” Elen said, spinning toward him. “She sabotaged my home! She poisoned the air! And she… she threw out Cupid!”

Dylan blinked. “Cupid?”

“My statue! My precious little bronze guardian!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Cupid’s not gone. He’s just… enjoying a quiet retirement in the garage. I thought he deserved a break from all that pollen. I just followed the rules,” I said sweetly, pulling the crumpled pink paper from my bag and handing it to Dylan.

His eyes moved line by line.

“Mom… what is this?”

“A helpful guide! To support her! To prepare her for a life with you!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“With me or with you?”

I grabbed my gym bag and smiled.

“Anyway, I really have to run. Zumba waits for no one.”

Elen’s nostrils flared. I looked over my shoulder with one last, sugar-sweet nod.

“Don’t worry. I’m taking your list very seriously. You might want to start your own.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Just before I reached the door, Dylan turned to his mother.

“Mom, we really need to talk. And this time, I need you to listen.”

I stepped outside, letting the door click softly behind me, and left my future MIL standing face to face with her sin, the man I loved, finally ready to draw his own lines.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I was working a night shift, exhausted but grateful—until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw my husband in the back seat… with another woman. I stayed silent, already planning his downfall.

YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I SURPRISED MY LONG-DISTANCE BOYFRIEND—IT WAS A TOTAL DISASTER

After my husband left me, I found it hard to start over at 41. Feeling lonely and ready to find love again, I decided to join a dating site. There, I met a charming man named Juan. Hoping for a fresh start, I decided to surprise him by traveling to Mexico. But it turned out to be a huge mistake.

My name is Lily, and I’m 41 years old. After twenty years of marriage, my husband left me, and I was lost. Since I had married young, I didn’t have much experience with dating or making new friends.

I felt isolated and rarely went out. Finding love at my age seemed almost impossible. So, I took a chance and went on a dating site, hoping to change my life.

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In my desperation, I signed up for a dating site and began talking to a charming man from Mexico named Juan. He was so confident and charming that I could hardly believe he was real. Our online conversations soon turned into something more serious.

As our connection grew, Juan started inviting me to visit him in Mexico. I was nervous at first. What if he wasn’t who he appeared to be? What if this was just another path to disappointment?

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But the loneliness of my daily routine made me want to take a chance. I decided to surprise Juan by arriving in Mexico without telling him.

I packed for a few weeks, bought my plane tickets, and set off on my journey. I was extremely nervous, unsure if he would be the same person in real life as he was online. But I needed to try; it felt like my last shot at finding happiness.

As I boarded the plane, my heart raced with excitement and anxiety. The flight seemed endless as I kept thinking about Juan. Would he be as charming in person? Would he be happy to see me? I tried to calm myself, reminding myself that this was a chance for a fresh start.

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Reaching Juan was harder than I expected because he lived in a small town far from the airport. The trip was long and exhausting. After landing, I had to find a taxi to get me to his town.

The taxi driver kept shouting, “Where!? Where!?” because he didn’t understand me. My frustration grew, so I quickly pulled out my phone and showed him the address.

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“See? Right here, I need you to take me to this town. How much?” I asked the driver.

“Good, good, let’s go!” he replied, finally understanding.

Traveling had always been a challenge for me, and I often struggled to communicate and had bad luck. But this time, I felt hopeful and determined. The drive was long and seemed endless, taking me through narrow, unfamiliar roads. I watched as the city’s hustle and bustle gave way to the quieter, rural landscapes.

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The further we drove, the more anxious I became. I couldn’t shake the worry that I might be making a huge mistake. But I pushed those thoughts aside, reminding myself that I was here to take a chance on happiness.

Finally, the taxi pulled up to a small apartment building. I paid the driver and stepped out, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As I walked toward the building, I saw Juan just entering his apartment.

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“Juan! Surprise!” I called out as I rushed toward him, eager to see his reaction.

At first, he looked startled, and I felt a pang of worry that maybe he wasn’t pleased to see me. But then, his face lit up with a smile, and my heart eased with relief.

“Oh, it’s you! I wasn’t expecting you! Why didn’t you text me about your visit?” Juan asked, looking surprised.

“I’m sorry, I thought you would be happy to see me, Juan. You look even better in person!” I replied, trying to keep things positive.

“Yeah! You too… Lucy…” he said, pausing for a moment.

“It’s Lily,” I corrected him, feeling a twinge of disappointment. He couldn’t even remember my name—maybe that should have been my first clue.

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“Lily! Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry, sometimes American names can be confusing to me,” Juan said, trying to smooth over his mistake.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he was still handsome, and his accent was charming.

He invited me into his apartment, and we settled in to talk. The conversation was easy and enjoyable. We laughed and shared stories, feeling as if we’d known each other for years.

As the evening went on, we opened a bottle of wine. With each sip, my nerves began to melt away. Juan was charming and attentive, and I found myself enjoying his company more than I had expected.

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Juan nodded in understanding. “Of course, Lily. I’m glad you’re here. You can use the guest room.”

He showed me to the guest room, which was cozy and inviting. I thanked him and settled in, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about what the next day would bring. As I drifted off to sleep, I hoped that this leap of faith would lead to something wonderful.

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I looked around, trying to piece together what had happened. The realization hit me hard: I had been robbed. My heart raced as panic set in. How did I end up outside? I struggled to remember the details of the previous night, but it was all a blur.

I stumbled to my feet, trying to gather my thoughts. I had no idea where Juan was or how to reach him. I needed to find help, but my only option was to walk to the nearest public place.

As I wandered, I saw a small café and went inside, hoping to use their phone to contact the police or anyone who could assist me. My clothes were disheveled, and I must have looked a mess. The barista noticed my distress and offered me a seat.

“Are you okay, miss?” she asked gently.

“I… I’ve been robbed,” I managed to say, feeling tears well up. “I need to call someone.”

She handed me the phone, and I dialed the local police, giving them my location and explaining what had happened. They assured me they would send someone to help.

Sitting there, waiting for assistance, I felt a mix of shame, fear, and disappointment. I had come all this way, hoping for a fresh start, only to end up in such a dire situation.

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Desperation took over as I watched people move past, their lives seemingly unaffected by my plight. I felt isolated and overwhelmed, with no way to break through the barrier of language and cultural differences.

Finally, a kind-hearted woman noticed my distress. She approached me with a concerned look and spoke to me in broken English.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

I nodded, trying to keep my composure. “I’ve been robbed. I don’t know what to do.”

She quickly grasped the severity of the situation and took out her phone, calling the police for me. While we waited, she offered me a warm drink from the café, which helped soothe my nerves.

The police arrived soon after, and I tried my best to explain what had happened. They were patient and sympathetic, taking down the details and promising to help me.

As they worked on getting me the assistance I needed, I felt a flicker of relief. Though the situation was dire, the kindness of a stranger made me realize that there was still hope, even in the darkest moments.

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The man nodded sympathetically and offered me a comforting smile. “I can help. My name is Carlos. I work at the restaurant nearby. Let’s get you inside where it’s safe and call the police.”

He led me to the restaurant, which was a small, cozy place with a warm atmosphere. Inside, he made me comfortable at a table and brought me a cup of coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was a small gesture of kindness that meant a lot.

Carlos used the restaurant’s phone to contact the police and explained the situation. He also offered to help me reach the embassy or consulate for additional support. As he spoke on the phone, he reassured me that everything would be okay.

While waiting for the police, Carlos and I chatted a bit. He was kind and understanding, and his presence helped ease some of my anxiety. When the authorities arrived, they took my statement and began investigating, with Carlos translating where necessary.

Thanks to Carlos’s help, I finally felt like I wasn’t entirely alone in this unfamiliar place. His kindness was a lifeline in my moment of crisis, showing me that even in difficult situations, there are people willing to extend a helping hand.

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When I emerged from the restroom, Miguel had set up a small table with a warm meal. He gestured for me to sit, and I did, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. The food was simple but delicious – a comforting bowl of soup and some fresh bread.

As I ate, Miguel sat across from me, keeping a watchful eye. He spoke to me softly, his English broken but sincere. “You okay now?” he asked.

I nodded, taking another bite. “Yes, thank you. I feel a lot better. I can’t believe how kind you’ve been.”

Miguel smiled, though his eyes still showed concern. “You need help. I help. Don’t worry. We find your things.”

After I finished eating, Miguel made a call to the local authorities and to my embassy, explaining my situation and asking for assistance. He kept me informed and reassured me that things would get better.

With Miguel’s support, I started to feel a sense of stability. Although I was still shaken, his help made me feel like there was a way out of this nightmare. For the first time since waking up on the street, I felt a glimmer of hope that everything would be okay.

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As I ate, I noticed that Miguel’s kindness was more than just about providing food. His genuine concern made me feel a little safer. The warm meal and hot coffee were comforting, and each bite seemed to help me regain a bit of my strength.

After finishing, Miguel handed me his phone, allowing me to call the local authorities and my embassy. I was still shaken but felt more hopeful with each passing minute.

Miguel sat nearby, ready to help in any way he could. With his support, I managed to contact the necessary services and start working on getting my belongings back and making arrangements to return home.

His simple act of kindness turned a terrifying situation into one where I felt I could start to recover and rebuild.

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As I finished eating, I reflected on everything that had led me to this point. Juan, who had seemed so charming and perfect online, turned out to be a far cry from what I had hoped for. It was a hard pill to swallow, realizing he wasn’t who he seemed to be.

Despite the pain, Miguel’s unexpected kindness was a bright spot in an otherwise dark situation. His help reminded me that even when things go wrong, there are still good people out there who can make a difference. It gave me hope that maybe, someday, I would find what I was looking for and that not everyone would let me down.

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When I looked out into the hall, I was shocked to see Juan in the distance. He was with another woman, laughing and chatting as if nothing had ever happened between us.

My heart pounded with a mix of anger and betrayal. How could he just move on so easily after what he had done to me? The sight of him enjoying himself with someone new was a painful reminder of how deeply he had hurt me.

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Miguel studied the drawing and then glanced back at Juan, who was still with the new woman. Understanding began to dawn on him. He nodded and then motioned for me to wait.

“I’ll help,” Miguel said, his voice calm but determined. He walked out of the restaurant, approaching Juan with a serious expression.

I watched from the doorway, my heart racing. I saw Miguel talk to Juan, and Juan’s face changed from laughter to shock. Miguel pointed in my direction, and Juan’s gaze met mine. The confrontation was intense, but I could see that Juan was visibly uncomfortable.

Miguel returned to me and said, “Juan says he didn’t take anything. But we need to call police. I help you.”

With Miguel’s help, I managed to use his phone to call the police. As I waited, I felt a mix of relief and anxiety. I hoped that justice would be served and that I could finally find some resolution to this distressing situation.

Miguel’s eyes widened as I approached, the phone clutched tightly in my hand. He looked at me with a mix of surprise and concern.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice trembling. I handed the phone to him, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “Can you call the police now?”

Miguel nodded, quickly taking out his phone and dialing the number. He spoke in Spanish, explaining the situation as best as he could. I waited anxiously, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Juan didn’t notice what had happened.

Once Miguel finished the call, he looked at me reassuringly. “Police come soon,” he said. “We… stay here, okay?”

I nodded, grateful for his help. “Thank you so much, Miguel. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Miguel gave me a comforting smile and patted my shoulder. “No problem. We help.”

As we waited for the police, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—relief, anger, and gratitude. Despite the chaos, I was thankful for Miguel’s kindness and support.

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Miguel’s kindness truly made a difference in Lily’s challenging situation, showing that even in tough times, there are people who genuinely care and help. His support provided Lily with the strength and hope she needed to face her difficulties. If you’ve been moved by this story, share it with your friends—it might inspire them and bring a smile to their day.

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