When Mischa’s trusted family friend violates her deepest secret, she must choose between protecting someone she once knew well or standing up for herself. In a world where betrayal wears a familiar face, Mischa learns that forgiveness doesn’t erase consequences… and some stories must be told on your own terms, no matter the cost.
When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Not my friends. Not my family. I just wanted to keep it between my boyfriend, my doctor, and myself.
I was 20. Still figuring out who I was. Still making peace with the fact that adulthood doesn’t come with a manual. A baby? Goodness me. It felt both terrifying and beautiful. Like standing at the edge of a cliff with your arms open.
A pensive young woman | Source: Midjourney
So, I made an appointment at one of the best OB-GYN offices in town. It was clean, professional, and discreet. It was exactly what I needed.
Or so I thought.
When I walked into the waiting room, my heart stopped for a second.
Behind the reception desk, flipping through paperwork like it was any normal Tuesday, stood Monica, an old friend of my mom’s.
The interior of an OB/GYN office | Source: Midjourney
I froze in the doorway, my heart lodging somewhere between my ribs and my throat. I did remember her from when we were younger though. Monica used to basically live in our home. Visiting all the time. I hadn’t seen her in years but I knew they still texted occasionally. Christmas cards. Birthday wishes. The occasional “we must catch up” lunch that never actually happened.
The air in the waiting room felt too sharp, like breathing in tacks. I told myself not to panic. Monica wasn’t just a receptionist anymore, she was a medical assistant now. She’d know better… she had to.
Right?
A medical professional looking at a clipboard | Source: Midjourney
Confidentiality was everything in healthcare.
Surely, she would be professional.
Surely.
I filled out the clipboard with shaking hands, feeling her eyes flicker toward me and then away, polite but not oblivious. Every fibre of my body screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
A young woman sitting in a doctor’s room | Source: Midjourney
I went through the appointment trying to block it all out, the tension in my shoulders, the tight ache under my skin.
Instead, I focused on the doctor’s kind voice. The cold gel smeared across my belly. The faint, miraculous thud-thud of a heartbeat emerging from the static. Tiny. Fragile. Real.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as the grainy shape appeared on the monitor.
A life. A beginning.
A doctor standing in her office | Source: Midjourney
Something so impossibly mine that it made my chest hurt with a strange, wild kind of love. I clutched the ultrasound photo on the drive home, holding it against my chest like a fragile secret, emotions swirling too fast to name.
And when I opened the front door, my mom was already there.
Beaming. Congratulating me loudly. Throwing her arms around me like it was Christmas morning, her voice bubbling with excitement I couldn’t match.
“You’re going to be such a good mom, Mischa! I’m so happy for you! My baby is having a baby!” she gushed, squeezing me tighter.
A smiling woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
The room tilted sideways, the walls pressing in.
I hadn’t said anything yet.
I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to tell her today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I hadn’t even had time to process the reality myself, let alone share it.
A pensive young woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
My mom kept talking, oblivious to the way my hands hung limply at my sides. She floated between baby names, crib shopping, nursery colors… all the while I stood frozen, the blood draining from my face, my heartbeat hammering somewhere near my throat.
Somewhere between “maybe Emma if it’s a girl?” and “I have the old bassinet in the garage,” I found my voice.
It came out thin and brittle.
A baby bassinet in a garage | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” I interrupted, swallowing hard. “How… how did you know?”
She blinked at me, confused, almost amused.
“Darling, Monica texted me, of course!”
A smiling woman in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Just like that.
Casual. Cheerful. Oblivious.
Monica had reached out and ripped away my most personal moment before I even made it home.
I mumbled something about needing the bathroom and stumbled down the hall, locking the door behind me.
The cold tiles pressed against my bare feet. I sank onto the closed toilet lid, pressing my trembling hands into my forehead, willing the spinning in my head to stop.
A young woman standing in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
A deep, hollow ache ballooned inside my chest, swallowing everything else.
It wasn’t just gossip. It wasn’t just excitement. It was a violation. It was my life and someone else had decided that they had the right to announce it for me.
Every fear I’d carefully tucked away, judgment, pressure, losing control of my own story… came roaring up at once, crashing through the thin walls I’d tried so hard to build around myself.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t ready to shout my pregnancy from the rooftops.
I wasn’t ready for advice, for sidelong glances, for whispers behind my back about “the poor young girl who ruined her life.” I wasn’t ready for anyone else’s hands in my future, tugging at it, twisting it.
It was mine. And now it wasn’t.
An upset and stressed young woman | Source: Midjourney
The knowledge sat like a stone in my stomach, heavy and cold. I wanted to scream.
I wanted to march back to that OB office and demand Monica’s badge, her job, her dignity. To burn everything down just so someone, anyone, would understand what had been taken from me.
But my mom, still smiling a little too brightly, still hoping everything could be smoothed over, begged me not to.
A pensive woman sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
“She meant well, Mischa,” she said softly, wringing her hands and looking at the freshly baked scones on the table. “Please, baby… just talk to her first. Give her a chance? Yes?”
Meant well. Meant well?
It was funny how people used that phrase like it erased damage.
I wasn’t feeling merciful. Not even a little. But I was feeling strategic.
A plate of scones with cream and jam | Source: Midjourney
Anger could scorch the earth, sure. But sometimes, patience could break it open.
If Monica didn’t realize what she’d done to me, she would do it to someone else. Someone younger, maybe? Someone still living under their parents’ roof, someone who could be hurt worse.
Someone without a safe place to land.
I couldn’t let that happen. No way!
A young woman sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
So, we set a trap.
The next day, my younger sister, Allie, texted Monica, pretending she needed advice about medical school applications. Monica agreed immediately, thrilled at the idea of “mentoring” a future healthcare worker.
I could almost hear her preening through the text messages, already imagining herself as a wise sage, guiding another generation.
A phone on a table | Source: Pexels
That evening, Monica waltzed into our kitchen like she owned the place. Her hair was sprayed into a stiff helmet, her perfume so thick it clung to the air like syrup.
She kissed my mom on the cheek, patted Allie’s shoulder, and smiled at me like nothing had ever happened.
“I hope you made your roast chicken, Madeline!” she said to my mother. “I remember how much I loved it the first time I ever tasted it. Wow.”
Food on a table | Source: Pexels
My mom smiled and nodded.
“Of course, Mon,” she said. “Roast potatoes and the works.”
We made small talk, the kind that scratched at my skin. College classes. SAT scores. Internships, blah blah blah. I let her settle in, watching her posture relax as she sipped on hibiscus tea, her guard dropping quickly.
When the moment felt right, I leaned across the table, keeping my smile sugary sweet.
A cup of tea on a table | Source: Unsplash
“So… what’s the policy about patient confidentiality, Monica?” I asked, tilting my head just slightly.
Monica chuckled, waving a manicured hand dismissively.
“Oh, it’s super strict,” she said. “You can never share patient information. It’s a total disaster if you slip up. You can lose your job, your license… everything. It’s not worth it, really.”
A close up of a woman | Source: Pexels
I nodded, slowly, deliberately. Letting the silence stretch just long enough for discomfort to creep in.
“So technically,” I said lightly. “You weren’t supposed to tell my mom about my pregnancy, right? According to what you’ve just explained, I mean. Right, Mon?”
Her smile froze.
You could almost hear the gears grinding in her head as the realization hit.
A woman hidden by her hair | Source: Unsplash
Across the table, Allie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands pulling at the hem of her sweater. She had been uneasy since Mom and I told her she was going to be an aunt.
“Well…” Monica stammered, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “That’s different, Mischa! Your mom’s my friend. It’s not like I told a stranger!”
I kept my expression as neutral as possible, my hands calmly folded on the table.
A close up of a blonde woman | Source: Pexels
“Oh,” I said, my voice feather-soft. “So there are exceptions, then?”
Monica’s face darkened. Her shoulders tensed, the mask slipping fast.
“I did you a favor!” she snapped. Her voice was shrill now, slicing through the kitchen’s heavy air. “You were scared. I could see it in your face. I helped you! You had that same haunted look that young women have when they don’t know how to tell their families… you should be grateful.”
An upset young woman | Source: Pexels
The kitchen seemed to shrink around us, the tension vibrating in my bones.
Allie sat frozen across the table, wide-eyed, the color draining from her face.
I pushed back my chair slowly, the scrape of the legs against the floor loud and deliberate.
“You didn’t help me,” I said quietly, my voice steady and cold. “You stole a moment that wasn’t yours to take. You stole a precious moment from me.”
An uncomfortable teenage girl | Source: Pexels
Monica’s hands shook visibly. She opened her mouth as if to protest again but no words came out.
She saw it then. She’d already lost.
She left quickly after that, muttering something about not being hungry. Something about “good luck” over her shoulder. The door slammed harder than necessary.
I stood there in the quiet kitchen, my hands trembling, my heart racing but feeling a little steadier inside.
A pensive woman | Source: Pexels
I had given her a chance to recognize her mistake.
She didn’t. She doubled down. She would do it again.
“Girls, let’s have dinner,” my mother said quietly. “You need to eat, Mischa. Your body needs good sustenance for the baby.”
A plate of food | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop open. The “Submit” button glowing at the bottom of the complaint form.
My finger hovered over the mouse for a long moment, heart thudding slow and heavy in my chest. I wasn’t cruel. I truly wasn’t.
I didn’t blast Monica on social media. I didn’t rant or call her names. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family. I simply stated the facts.
A laptop on a table | Source: Unsplash
Monica had breached patient confidentiality. She had shared private, sensitive medical information without consent. While my case hadn’t ended in tragedy, another patient might not be so lucky.
A soft breeze drifted through the open window, stirring the papers on the table, brushing my skin like a nudge forward.
I took a deep breath and clicked submit.
A close up of a young woman | Source: Unsplash
At the OB’s office, the manager listened carefully, her face grave and still.
Later, I learned that Monica had previously completed, and signed, a mandatory confidentiality training, explicitly reaffirming that she understood the rules she had broken.
They took it seriously. Very seriously.
A few days later, Monica was placed under internal investigation and suspended while the clinic decided her fate.
A person holding a clipboard with a contract | Source: Pexels
At dinner one evening, my mom twisted her fork through her mashed potatoes, her voice barely above a whisper.
“She’s losing everything, Mischa. Her job. Her reputation. She called me earlier today.”
I stared down at my own plate, the food untouched and cold, feeling both heavier and lighter at once.
“I didn’t do that,” I said quietly. “Monica did.”
A bowl of mashed potatoes | Source: Pexels
There’s a difference between being kind and being a doormat. There’s a difference between forgiveness and allowing someone to hurt others just because they didn’t hurt you badly enough.
Forgiveness doesn’t erase consequences.
It just means that you don’t let their actions define your future.
Weeks passed.
A young woman leaning against a wall | Source: Unsplash
The early spring sun grew warmer, wrapping the afternoons in gold. My belly grew. My excitement grew. And so did my confidence.
I told people about my pregnancy on my own terms, in my own words, in my own time. Not because someone stole the story from me. But because I chose to share it.
The first time I posted my ultrasound photo online, I hesitated, staring at the screen, my thumb trembling slightly over the button.
An ultrasound | Source: Pexels
Tiny fingers. A curled-up nose. A future that was still mine to shape.
I smiled.
Not everyone deserves access to every part of your story. Especially the parts you’re still writing.
A person holding an ultrasound | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
When Mia honors her late mother at a family dinner, her stepmother’s cruel outburst ignites a truth long buried. Forced to choose between silence and self-respect, Mia walks away and writes a letter that could shatter everything. This is a raw, unforgettable story about grief, memory, and what it takes to reclaim your voice.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Bride Doesn’t Want Her Dad in Wheelchair to Walk Her Down the Aisle until She Sees Him on TV — Story of the Day
A woman doesn’t want her father to walk her down the aisle because she is embarrassed by his wheelchair. However, when she sees him on TV a few days before the wedding, she regrets her decision and changes her mind.
When Lisa Terrell’s mother died when she was just two years old, her father, Edward, took up her care. Caroline Terrell had died in a terrible hurricane that hit their town years ago, demolishing their home and leaving Edward in a wheelchair due to a severe injury.
Nonetheless, nothing could stop Edward from raising Lisa with love and giving her the finest of everything. He was a well-known journalist and began working remotely following his injury to provide for them.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
However, most people in Lisa’s life were unaware she had a father until he paid her a surprise visit at her school one day.
Lisa had always told her friends that her father was too busy to spend time with her, which is why he never attended school functions or parent meetings. However, the reality was that the invitations never made it to Edward since Lisa was embarrassed by him and didn’t want her friends to see him.
She adored him as a youngster, but as she grew up, the image of her father in a wheelchair mortified her and wrecked her relationship with him.
She was confused as she looked at the television and noticed her father sitting alongside the host.
Still, Edward never reneged on his duties. He was always there for his daughter and saved enough money to send her to a top university.
On the other hand, Lisa did not want him by his side. In fact, when she met her boyfriend, Harrison, at university, and they decided to marry after graduation, she didn’t want Edward to be there for the wedding.
As a result, she freaked out when Harrison asked her to invite Edward to dinner at his parents’ place. His parents were wealthy and of the upper crust. What would they think if they saw an elderly man in their home in a wheelchair? Lisa was ashamed by the very thought of it.
However, based on Harrison’s enthusiasm in inviting Edward to dinner, Lisa realized she didn’t have an out this time. So she had to fake a grin and say she’d ask Edward if he was free.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
When Lisa told Edward about the invitation to dinner, he was more than just free. He was overjoyed for Lisa for finding someone who adored her.
On the night of the dinner, he dressed nicely in a suit and Harrison’s family received him warmly. The young man’s parents were impressed that Edward had reared a daughter on his own. Besides, Edward had a wonderful sense of humor, and everyone had a great time at the dinner. Everyone except Lisa, whose cheeks were flushed crimson with shame the entire time since the man in a wheelchair was her father…
A few weeks before the wedding, Lisa made up her mind. She confronted Edward one night over dinner and notified him that he would not be on the wedding guest list.
“Dad, I wanted to talk to you about the wedding,” she began, glancing at her plate and moving her fork around the spaghetti.
“Yes? What exactly is it, honey?” Edward inquired. “Is there something bugging you about the wedding, the expenses? If that’s the case, I have some bonds that we could use. After all, I did keep it for you…”
“No, dad! It’s just that,” Lisa paused for a moment, “Harrison and I intend to hold the wedding here in New York, but the problem is that we’re having it at one of the city’s largest hotels, and… I just thought it would be best if you didn’t attend the event. You know, there would be way too many guests!”
Edward’s smile vanished as he stared at Lisa, speechless. “I – I don’t understand…What’s the problem?”
Lisa sighed and fixed her gaze on him. “Look, Dad, it’s just that… The guests will be exclusive, and they’re all businessmen and high-class people. Imagine a man in a wheelchair walking his daughter down the aisle in front of them… I don’t know…It’s just weird.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“A man in a wheelchair is weird?” Edward’s eyes welled up. He couldn’t believe Lisa was indirectly cutting him off the wedding guest list. But he grasped the cue and forced a grin, hiding his tears from her.
“Is that it? Oh, you’re right! After all, this old age is catching up with me,” he said, faking a laugh. “I may not be able to handle such a large gathering. It’s ok – it’s ok!”
“Thanks for understanding, dad,” Lisa said bluntly and went away to her room. Before dissing Edward, she didn’t think twice about all the years of love and care he’d given her, but eventually, she regretted it.
A few days later, she was watching a show titled “American Heroes” on TV when the emcee announced Edward’s name. She was confused as she looked at the television and noticed her father sitting alongside the host.
Soon after, the camera focused on a screen that displayed images of Edward in a wheelchair and the hurricane that had hit their town years before. He turned out to be one of the brave journalists who had managed to save his family and help his neighbors throughout the disaster.
Edward had a solemn expression as he narrated the whole story of how he’d managed to help people, especially his family.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“I will never forget that day. It was terrible… we lost practically everything,” he explained. “My wife died in the accident, and my daughter was just two years old at the time. As the debris surrounding us fell, I noticed my daughter standing right there…underneath that spot where it was falling.
“I went to save her and took her into my arms, but as I ran, a large section of the ceiling cracked and crashed on my back, causing a spine injury that prevented me from walking again.”
Lisa’s jaw sank to the floor, and her tears welled up when she heard that. “Dad saved me?” she was shocked.
“It was hard for me,” Edward continued. “But you know, you can’t really avoid your fate. So I gathered courage, knowing I just couldn’t give up in life, especially because I know I had a daughter who was now reliant on her father.”
Lisa was utterly embarrassed about herself at this point. She cried after Edward’s interview, cursing herself for being a terrible daughter, and decided to make it up to him.
So on her wedding day, she did walk down the aisle with Edward, but before the wedding ceremony began, she needed to tell the guests something VERY important…
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
As she took the microphone near the altar, she approached Edward, who was sitting among the guests, fell on her knees, and hugged him. “I know this is one of the most important days of my life, and I’ve been waiting for it for so long!” she cried, holding his hands in hers. “But none of this would have been possible if my father had not been by my side.”
“Ever since mom passed away, I never saw dad saying even once how hard it was for him to raise me alone. He did have hard days, but he never showed me the slightest hint of it. But what did I do? I was about to remove him from the wedding list because I was embarrassed about him being in a wheelchair. Yes, that’s right!”
“If only I had known that dad is in a wheelchair because he injured his back while saving me, I’d have never ever done that. I have been horrible to the man who loves me the most!”
“So I’d like to apologize to him in front of everyone today. I apologize for being the worst daughter to you, dad,” she said, facing him. “You can hate me for the rest of my life. I am sorry.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Edward wasn’t expecting Lisa to own her mistake publicly. He was surprised but at the same time overcome with emotions at seeing his daughter realize her error, so he forgave her.
“Oh, come here,” he cried, embracing her. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he said. “But if you recognize them and work to fix them, you should be forgiven.”
Everyone was moved to tears and applauded the heartwarming reunion.
What can we learn from this story?
- Love and respect your parents because they go above and beyond for you. Liza realized this when she heard her father’s story on TV and apologized to him for being rude.
- Everyone makes mistakes, and if they realize it, they should be forgiven. Edward forgave her daughter when he saw she felt guilty for what she’d done.
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