A pregnant mother of three needs to sell her stroller to feed her three children after she was abandoned by her husband.Anne Sargent sat on her kitchen floor and cried. It was past midnight, and it was the only time she could allow herself to show her pain — when her three children were asleep upstairs.Anne felt the baby move and placed a tender hand on her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to her unborn child. “I’m doing my best, but it’s just not good enough…” Just two months ago, Anne had been a radially happy wife and mother, confidently expecting the birth of her fourth child, and confident in her place in the world and her husband’s love. That woman was gone.Anne was expecting her fourth child when her husband walked out.| Source: Unsplash Derek had come home one night and told her he was leaving, just like that. “But why?” asked Anne. “I don’t understand, I thought we were happy!”“YOU were happy!” Derek cried. “YOU,not me! All you did was have babies and fuss over them, now there’s one more on the way!” “But you WANTED children!” Anne protested. “You were happy every time I was pregnant…”A family is built on understanding and mutual respect. Happy?” screamed Derek. “Happy that you gave all your love and attention to the kids? All I was to you was a paycheck! Well, that’s OVER!” So three months after Anne announced her fourth pregnancy, Derek was gone. Anne immediately went out and found herself a part-time job at a local grocery store.All you did was have babies and fuss over them!” | Source: Unsplash The owner would have been willing to give her a full-time job, but for that, Anne would have needed to pay a sitter for her three boys and that would have consumed most of her salary,so she carefully stretched her salary. But even with the child support check Derek sent, it just wasn’t enough. Anne started selling some antique china she’d inherited from her grandmother and that paid for the utilities for a few months. Then she sold a silver brush-and-mirror set she’d had since she was a little girl, and that paid for groceries. Little by little, as her belly grew, Anne sold her treasures to keep her family safe and fed. Then one day, there was nothing left to sell except bric-a-brac. Anything of greater value was gone. Anne looked at the old stroller she’d brought up from the cellar. It had been hers when she was a baby and had been used by each of her children in turn. It was very old, probably from the sixties,but it was in mint condition.Anne was devastated by Derek’s attitude. | Source: Unsplash She ran her hand over the roses painted on the side and bit back her tears. She needed it for the new baby, but she needed the money even more.She thought about getting a good price for it down at the flea market. Vintage items were always popular… And so she took the stroller to the flea market, and one of the dealers gave her $50 for it. Not much at all, but every cent helped.Anne walked away, sure she’d never see the stroller again, but she was wrong. Two days later, she opened the front door and saw the stroller on the porch! There was an envelope inside and Anne opened it and read: “Please call me.” The message was followed by a phone number. Anne called the number ad a woman answered her. “Hello?” Anne said. “Are you the person who left the stroller? How did you know who it belonged to and where I live?”Anne got a part-time job as a teller. s Derek told me,” the woman on the other side said. “I’m Grace Robbs. I think we should meet.” An hour later, Grace was sitting on Anne’s sofa sipping tea. She was a pretty woman, six or seven years younger than Anne, and she looked very unhappy. Her pale skin was blotched and her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying. “How do you know Derek,” Anne asked, even though in her heart she already knew the answer. “I was his girlfriend,” Grace said. “Was?” asked Anne. “You broke up?”What Anne earned just wasn’t enough. | Source: Unsplash “Today, as a matter of fact,” Grace said and started crying. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know about you or the children, or the baby… I found out I was pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell him…” t“So I went to the flea market with a friend and saw this darling stroller and I bought it. I put it in the middle of the lounge and tied balloons to it with a message: ‘Hello Dad!’” “But he wasn’t happy like I thought he’d be. He started screaming and asking where II got the stroller and if his stupid wife had given it to me. He asked if it was a joke.” He told me to take it right back, that he didn’t want to know about your baby. So I told him: ‘It’s for OUR baby.’ and that’s when he went crazy.” “He accused me of wanting to trap him and said he already had three brats with you and one more on the way, and he didn’t want my baby. He told me to get out and come to you.”Anne sold her beautiful vintage stroller in the flea market. | Source: Unsplash He said: ‘Might as well have all the breeding cows under the same roof.’ I’m so sorry, I didn’t know about you, I guess I didn’t know him at all!” Anne got up and put her arm around the crying girl. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.” “He’s kicked me out,” Grace said quietly. “I have no family here and nowhere to go. I have a job, but with the rents in this city, I can’t afford to live alone, and who is going to want a pregnant roommate?” “I will!” Anne said firmly. “I need a tenant because what I earn isn’t enough, and I can’t work full-time because I can’t afford a babysitter for after school.” “But…” Grace’s face lit up. “I work online! I can take care of the kids after school. I love kids!”Anne and Grace comforted each other. | Source: Unsplash Advertisement “So I can take a full-time job?” asked Anne, delighted. “The owner of the grocery store wants me to manage it for him. With your help, I can! And you don’t have to worry about stuff for the baby. After three kids I have enough for an army.” Grace smiled through her tears. “And we have the stroller too…” she pointed out. “Are you sure? It’s Derek’s baby…” “No,” Anne shook her head. “It’s YOUR baby, and my children’s sibling, that is all that matters.” The two women settled into a new life together, and when Anne’s baby was born, Grace was there. When it was Grace’s turn four months later, Anne held her hand. They became a real family and raised their five children together.Anne and Grace raised their children together. | Source: Unsplash Advertisement As for Derek, he had several failed relationships and eventually came knocking on Anne’s door. He was shocked when he saw Grace there and asked to speak to Anne. “What do you want, Derek?” Anne asked. “I miss you, babe…” Derek said. Anne stared at him for a long moment then said, “Sorry, so not interested!” And she closed the door in his face.
My SIL Thought She Could Control My Kids at Her Halloween Party — Here’s What Happened
When my rich sister-in-law saw us in matching Superman costumes at her fancy Halloween party, she kicked my family out to “avoid confusion.” What she didn’t realize was that her mean move would lead to an unforgettable revenge in her fancy neighborhood.
I’m not usually a petty person, but sometimes life gives you chances for revenge that are too good to ignore.
Looking back, I should have guessed something was off when my mother-in-law’s eyes lit up at our Superman costumes in the store that day.
“Oh, how creative,” she said, smiling as brightly as her recent Botox treatment would allow. “The boys must be thrilled.”
She touched the fabric of Jake’s cape with her perfectly manicured nails, her nose wrinkling a little. “Though maybe something more… sophisticated would suit Isla’s Halloween party better?”
I barely held back a sigh. This was typical Brenda, always finding something to criticize about Dan and me.
When we started dating, I didn’t know my husband Dan came from a wealthy family. He chose to open an auto repair shop instead of joining the family finance firm, which made him the black sheep.
His family didn’t approve of me at first. Honestly, I didn’t approve of them either, with their snobby attitudes and complicated social rules. But I learned to deal with it after Dan and I got married.
“The boys picked the costumes themselves,” I told Brenda that day, straightening my back. “And they are so excited about it. The kids’ happiness is what matters, right?”
“Mmm,” she hummed, her usual look of disappointment crossing her face. “Well, I suppose that’s… sweet.”
I forced a smile. “It is. You should have seen how excited Tommy was when he suggested it.”
It was my oldest boy’s idea to dress as a Superman family. He burst into the kitchen after school, backpack bouncing against his shoulders, eyes bright with excitement.
Dan walked in just then, grease still on his cheek from working on a car. “That’s actually perfect, buddy. What do you think, Marcia?”
“Can we, Mom? Please?” Jake chimed in, bouncing on his toes. “We could be the strongest family ever!”
I agreed right away. The boys’ excitement was contagious, and we really needed some family fun after months of dealing with snide comments about our “quaint” lifestyle and Dan’s job.
Just last week, Isla had commented at dinner about how brave I was to shop at regular stores instead of her favorite boutiques.
And you know what Dan’s father said when he opened his fourth location? “At least you’re consistent in your choices, son.”
So, yes, we were craving a little joy.
On the night of Isla’s Halloween party, the boys were practically bouncing with excitement, their red capes fluttering in the fall breeze. Professionally carved pumpkins lined the driveway, each one probably costing more than our whole Halloween budget.
“Look at all the decorations!” Jake gasped, pointing at the elaborate display. “They even have fog machines!”
“And look at those skeletons at the guesthouse!” Tommy added, eyes wide at the fancy landscaping.
That’s when I saw Isla at the top of the marble steps in a matching but clearly designer Superwoman costume. Her husband Roger wore a movie-quality Superman suit, and their son was dressed the same way.
Their costumes caught the light beautifully, and Isla’s cape seemed to float perfectly as she walked down to meet us.
My stomach dropped. I could feel Dan tense beside me.
“Oh my,” Isla’s voice dripped with false sweetness as we approached. “What an unfortunate coincidence.” She fixed her perfect hair, the diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkling. “Though I must say, the resemblance between our costumes is rather… loose.”
“Isla—” Dan started, his jaw tight.
“You see,” she cut him off, waving her hand at the guests behind her, “we simply can’t have two Superman families at the party. It would confuse everyone.”
Her perfect red lips curved into a sly smile. “You’ll either need to go home and change, wear something from our spare clothes, or…” She waved dismissively. “Leave.”
Roger stood behind her, trying to hide his smirk behind a champagne glass. Their son, Maxwell, looked at my boys with that same superior expression I often saw on Isla’s face.
I felt Tommy’s small hand slip into mine, shaking slightly. Jake pressed against Dan’s leg, his earlier excitement fading fast. That’s when something in me snapped.
Eight years of subtle insults, watching my husband’s success being ignored, and seeing my kids’ joy dimmed by their aunt’s need to be superior all came together in that moment.
“Actually,” I said, squeezing Tommy’s hand and filling my voice with enthusiasm, “we’re going on an adventure instead. Right, boys?”
“But Mom—” Jake started, his lip quivering.
“Trust me,” I said over my shoulder.
“This will be way better than a stuffy party. How does the Halloween festival downtown sound? I heard they have a bouncy house shaped like a haunted castle.”
Dan caught my eye, and I saw the same fire in him that I felt. He wrapped his arm around Jake’s shoulders. “Your mom’s right. Who wants to hit the festival? I bet they have better candy than Aunt Isla’s fancy party.”
“Really?” Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Can we get our faces painted?”
“Absolutely,” Dan grinned. “We can get whatever you want.”
The festival turned out to be amazing. We played games, got our faces painted like superheroes, and took a ton of photos. Tommy won a giant stuffed bat at the ring toss, and Jake managed to bob for three apples in a row.
Dan treated us all to hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and we watched a local theater group perform spooky skits.
“This is way better than Aunt Isla’s party,” Jake declared, chocolate smeared across his chin. “Way, way better.”
The next day, my phone rang.
It was Julia, who catered Isla’s party. We had become friends over the years, bonding over our shared status as “outsiders” in the Preston social scene.
“Marcia, you won’t believe what I overheard,” she said, her voice full of anger. “Isla was bragging about the whole thing. She bought those costumes just to kick you out!”
“What?” I gripped the phone tighter, sinking onto the couch.
“She told Roger, and I quote, ‘Finally, I put that brat and her little brats in their place.’ And he laughed! Called you guys a ‘discount superhero act.’” Julia paused, disgust clear in her tone. “There’s more.”
I sighed. “Tell me.”
“Isla called you a circus act and said, ‘At least now everyone knows where they stand in this family.’”
Everything clicked into place.
My mother-in-law’s reaction to our costumes, the whole setup, and the humiliation had been a planned attack on my family, using my kids’ joy against us.
“Thanks, Julia,” I said quietly, my mind racing with ideas. “I appreciate you telling me. Isla is not getting away with this.”
Two days later, I stood in front of the billboard I had rented across from Isla’s estate. Our family photo from the festival shone down on the street, showing us in our “discount” costumes, faces painted and full of joy.
The best part was the text above it: “The Real Super Family: No Villains Allowed.”
The town gossip spread fast. Texts and calls flooded in, some subtle, others openly delighted about Isla’s costume scheme backfiring. Memes started circulating on social media.
Even Roger’s mother called it “deliciously fitting” at her weekly bridge club. The local coffee shop began serving a “Super Family Special” of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.
That evening, Dan found me in the kitchen, looking at my phone as another supportive message came through. This one was from his father’s secretary.
“You know,” he said, grinning with a sparkle in his eyes, “I’ve never been prouder to be married to a superhero.”
I leaned back against him, watching Tommy and Jake play superheroes in the backyard through the window. “Someone had to stand up to the villains.”
“Mom! Dad!” Tommy called from outside. “Come play with us! I’m Superman, and Jake’s Spider-Man now!”
“That’s not how it works!” Jake protested. “We can’t mix superhero worlds.”
“We can in our family,” Tommy declared. “We make our own rules!”
We joined our boys in the yard, capes flying, our laughter ringing off the fence.
At that moment, I realized something important: Isla might have fancy costumes and a big house, but we had a family that was truly super, not just playing dress-up.
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