When Christopher’s parents learned about his dreams of joining a fashion internship, they were dead set against his decision. They tried to persuade him otherwise and eventually kicked him out, not knowing the tables would be turned years later.
Christopher’s mother, beamed as she checked the college acceptance letters that had arrived for her son. Besides Dartmouth and Georgetown, Christopher had also made it to Stanford.
She couldn’t help but call out to her husband excitedly, and the parents rushed upstairs to their son’s room to make the big announcement. “Son! You got into Stanford! You did it!” his mother exclaimed.
“My boy! A Stanford man! I’m so proud of you!” his stoic father smiled as he hugged him tightly.
“Wait, guys!” Christopher tried to interject, but they weren’t listening. He should’ve guessed something was wrong when his parents, who weren’t the most affectionate or emotional people in the world, just barged into his room with smiles.
“Let’s call your grandparents! They’ll be so happy! Oh! And let’s plan a party!” Christopher’s mother went on as she joined her husband and son.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Stop, Mom!” Christopher snapped. “Please stop!”
“What’s wrong, son?” his mother frowned, pulling away.
“You’re wrong!” Christopher screamed, pulling away from his father. “I’M NOT GOING TO STANFORD!”
“But son, Stanford is our family legacy. All men have to go there,” his father added while his mother nodded in agreement.
“Guys, stop! Stop acting like I’m not here! I’m not going to Stanford or any of those stupid schools! Alright?”
“Chris!” his mother warned.
“No, Mom, let me speak. I tried to tell you, but you shut me down,” Christopher continued, reaching for the papers on his bed. “This…I’m going to New York. I got a fashion internship.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard face drained of blood, and his wife’s eyes bulged out in horror. “Fashion?! You must be out of your mind, boy!” h
“Dad, c’mon, you sell clothes! You should understand me!” Christopher tried explaining his dreams to them, but his parents turned a deaf ear to him.
“Well, I don’t make clothes, son! Or worse, design them! I own the business. I’m not going to spend my money on your stupid dream! You just proved we were failures as parents! You gotta leave! You’re worthless to me!” he said and walked away.
Christopher looked at his mother and held her hands. “Mom, it’s my dream. I need your help to convince Dad!” he pleaded with her.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
But his mother pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Our dream for you was Stanford, son. Sorry, but you need to leave this house.”
Those words stung Christopher, and he could hear his mother’s cry from his bedroom. But he was not going to give up on his dreams. So he packed his bags, called his friend Johnny, and left.
Christopher had decided that he would fly to New York with Johnny once he graduated high school. And that’s what he did.
Johnny’s parents took him in after he was kicked out of his home. And a couple of months later, after the boys graduated high school, they flew to New York.
Johnny was attending NYU while working at his uncle’s brokerage firm, and Christopher received a small stipend for his fashion internship but worked nights at a 24-hour market to pay the rest of his bills.
Christopher hadn’t heard from his parents since the day they kicked him out. In fact, they didn’t even come to his graduation or to see him off at the airport.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Things got tough for him ever since he had left home, and it was only after arriving in New York that he realized the path to his dreams was not going to be all roses.
There was a final project for his internship, a chance to show a small line to big design houses, but the materials and fabrics were costly, and Christopher realized he couldn’t afford his vision. So he called his father to ask for help.
“What do you want?” Richard angrily asked, answering the phone. The man didn’t even bother asking his son how he was doing.
“Hey, Dad,” Christopher said timidly. “I need your help. Actually, there’s a big opportunity coming up for me.”
“On what? To choose different kinds of pink?” his father said sarcastically.
“No, it’s not that,” Christopher explained that he would get a job instantly if they liked his project at the internship, and they would also fund his future education.
But Richard’s tone remained stiff. “So why are you telling me this?” he sneered, and Christopher could imagine his father rolling his eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I need some money,” Christopher said, getting to the point. He was embarrassed but didn’t have a choice. “And it won’t be a handout. I’ll pay you back. The thing is, I can’t miss this chance. It might set me up for life.”
“Well, you’re an adult now, and you make your own choices. Deal with it. You should have gone to Stanford,” his father said heartlessly and hung up.
Christopher hadn’t cried months ago when his parents kicked him out, but he couldn’t contain his emotions any longer. He buried his face in the table before him and sobbed so heavily that Johnny came in.
“Hey, man, it’s OK,” he consoled Christopher and grabbed a chair. It took a few minutes for Christopher to calm down and narrate what had just happened.
“Why don’t you borrow some money from me?” Johnny suggested, but Christopher refused. He already owed their flat’s deposit to him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Is there any chance you could take a break? Like when you defer a class?” Johnny suggested. He noticed Christopher looked unsure. “Look, you could ask them, and hey, I have a spot at my uncle’s firm. You could take that job, make enough money, and finish your internship.”
Christopher never wanted to work in an office. He had aspired to become a fashion designer. But then Johnny explained to him that if he performed well at the job, his uncle’s firm would pay for his school.
Christopher was always good with numbers, and the money was tight, so he accepted the offer. “I think that’ll work,” he nodded nervously.
“Cheer up, dude! You’ll be back in fashion in no time,” Johnny encouraged him, and Christopher nodded, telling himself that he would make his own money. He didn’t need his dad’s help.
Ten years later, things changed. Richard couldn’t bring himself to look at the papers piled on his desk. He had to make a decision on whether to file for Chapter 13 or sell his company.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard could try to start over, but he didn’t want another defeat. He failed miserably as a father when Christopher refused to join Stanford to pursue fashion.
“I’m going to toss a coin! Let destiny pick,” the older man thought and nodded, hurling away the papers on his desk in frustration. Right then, his secretary barged into his office.
“Richard, I found something!” she said and placed a document on his desk, pointing her finger at a name in the papers.
Richard’s eyes widened in shock. “Is this…But that’s impossible,” he muttered, reading more. Richard couldn’t believe his son’s name was included in the buyer profiles.
“I made some calls and confirmed it, sir. It might be a sign from the universe,” she said. “He has a stellar reputation. He worked for a brokerage firm and climbed the ladder quicker than most people. He also bought other struggling businesses and expanded in clothes, accessories, and much more. I think it’s worth trying.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Richard smiled and even let out a chuckle. His son was a real businessman, not a failed designer surviving on ramen in a dirty studio apartment. He decided he would sell the company to his son.
A few days later, Richard walked into his company’s conference room wearing a wide grin on his face. He confidently shook hands with everyone and smiled at his son.
Christopher sat surrounded by his lawyers. The negotiations had already taken place, and all that was left was signing papers. After that, the company would officially be his.
“Don’t be so serious, son. Your mother is outside. Let’s celebrate after we wrap this up,” Richard told his son, but Christopher didn’t accept the invitation.
His parents had refused to help when he needed it the most. It was Johnny who helped him get the job at the brokerage firm, and Christopher was so good that he quickly climbed to the top. But Christopher couldn’t return to fashion or the internship.
After Johnny moved out, Christopher had to keep working hard to afford living expenses, and his dreams of becoming a fashion designer disappeared. But when a deal with a clothes company came up, he saw a chance and took it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
The company grew so much that Christopher expanded it. And he also offered scholarships and internship programs to fashion students, healing his past wounds and somewhat fulfilling his dreams.
“Mrs. Pattison,” Christopher called his father’s secretary after signing the papers, ignoring his father. “Richard should leave the building. And yes, this applies to his wife too.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Richard jumped to his feet in anger.
“Please be quick, or I’ll be forced to call security,” he told Mrs. Pattison, looking his father in the eyes. “I have no interest in going to dinner with you two! But yes, I do want to know one thing…Am I worthy enough now?”
Richard’s eyes were red in anger, but he nodded and walked away, escorted by security guards.
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My Wife and I Went to an Orphanage to Adopt a Child and Found a Girl Who Is a Carbon Copy of Our Daughter
When my wife and I visited an orphanage to adopt, we never expected to meet a little girl who looked exactly like our daughter at home. The shock deepened when we discovered the unimaginable truth.
“Emily, are you ready? My mom will watch Sophia, so we have the whole day.” I tied my shoes as my wife came down the stairs. She looked nervous, brushing invisible wrinkles off her blouse.
A woman fastening her zipper | Source: Pexels
“I think so, David,” she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I just… I hope we’re doing the right thing. What if the child doesn’t connect with us?”
I walked over and held her hands. “We’ve talked about this for months. You’ve read every book. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Besides, no child could resist your pancakes.”
Emily chuckled, her cheeks flushing pink. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
A smiling man talking to his wife | Source: Pexels
Sophia, my five-year-old daughter from my first marriage, poked her head out of the living room. “Can I have pancakes tomorrow, Mommy?”
Emily’s face softened. “Of course, sweetheart.” She smiled, but there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes. I knew she loved Sophia like her own, but I also knew she wanted another child who would call her “Mommy” from the start.
A smiling woman in a dress | Source: Midjourney
As we drove to the shelter, the air in the car was thick with anticipation. Emily stared out the window, twisting her wedding ring.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m just scared,” she admitted. “What if we can’t find a child who feels like… ours?”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “We will. It’s like you always say—love finds a way.”
A nervous woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
When we arrived, the shelter director greeted us warmly. Mrs. Graham was an older woman with silver hair and kind eyes. “Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Emily nodded, a small, polite smile on her face. “Thank you, Mrs. Graham. We’re excited and… a little nervous.”
“That’s natural,” Mrs. Graham said reassuringly. “Why don’t we start with a quick chat in my office?”
A smiling woman in her office | Source: Pexels
In her cozy office, surrounded by photos of happy families, we explained what we were looking for in a child. “We’re open to any background,” I said. “We just want to feel a connection.”
Mrs. Graham nodded. “I understand. Let me show you the playroom. The kids are all unique, and I think you’ll feel that connection when it’s right.”
A smiling woman wearing a black sweater | Source: Pexels
The playroom was alive with laughter. Children were running, drawing, and playing games. Emily’s face lit up as she saw a little boy building a tower of blocks.
“Hi there!” she said, crouching beside him. “That’s a tall tower. What’s your name?”
The boy grinned. “Eli. Don’t knock it over!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Emily said with a laugh.
A woman playing with a boy | Source: Midjourney
I found myself chatting with a girl drawing on a chalkboard. “What are you making?”
“A unicorn,” she said confidently. “You’re big. Are you a dad?”
“I am,” I said. “Do you like dads?”
“They’re okay,” she said with a shrug.
Emily caught my eye across the room, her expression a mix of joy and confusion. I knew she was feeling the same thing I was. How could we possibly choose anyone?
A puzzled man | Source: Freepik
I felt a tiny tap on my shoulder and turned around. Standing there was a little girl, maybe five years old, with big, curious eyes.
“Are you my new dad?” she asked, her voice soft but confident.
My heart stopped. She looked just like Sophia—same honey-brown hair, same round cheeks, same deep dimples when she smiled.
“Uh, I…” My voice caught in my throat.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
The girl tilted her head, studying me with an expression of innocent expectation, like she already knew the answer. Then, as if to confirm something in her mind, she reached out her hand.
That’s when I saw it—a small, crescent-shaped birthmark on her wrist. My heart raced. Sophia had that exact same birthmark in the same spot.
A young girl in a playroom | Source: Midjourney
“Emily,” I whispered, turning to my wife who had been standing a few feet away. She was gripping the edge of a table for support, her face pale. “Look at her wrist.”
Emily stepped closer, her eyes wide. “David… she—she’s…”
The little girl smiled shyly. “Do you like puzzles?” she asked, holding up a piece. “I’m really good at them.”
A girl showing a man a puzzle | Source: Midjourney
I knelt down, my knees barely holding me as my mind spun. “What’s your name?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling.
“Angel,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “The lady here said it suits me.”
Angel. My chest tightened. That name. It hit me like a lightning bolt. Angel was the name my ex-wife, Lisa, had wanted if we ever had another daughter.
A shocked man holding his head | Source: Freepik
I stood up quickly, my mind reeling. Memories from years ago came flooding back. Four years earlier, Lisa had shown up at my house, nervous and fidgeting.
“David, I need to tell you something,” she’d said, her voice shaking. “When we divorced, I was pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you. I gave birth to a little girl… she’s yours. I—I can’t take care of her. Will you?”
A sad woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
That’s how Sophia came into my life. But twins? Lisa had never mentioned twins.
“David?” Emily’s voice brought me back to the present.
I looked at her, then back at Angel. She was still smiling, holding the puzzle piece as if nothing life-changing had just happened.
“I need to make a call,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
A man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels
I walked to a quieter corner of the playroom and dialed Lisa’s number. My hands were trembling as I waited for her to pick up.
“David?” Lisa answered after a few rings, her voice a mixture of surprise and concern. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“No, Lisa. Not even close,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m at a children’s shelter with Emily. There’s a little girl here who looks exactly like Sophia. She has her birthmark, Lisa. She’s Sophia’s twin. Care to explain?”
Silence hung heavy on the line. For a moment, I thought she’d hung up. Then, I heard her take a shaky breath.
“David,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I—I didn’t think you’d ever find out.”
A puzzled man talking on his phone | Source: Freepik
“You knew?” I said, struggling to keep my tone calm.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I had twins. When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. I was broke, barely able to take care of myself. I couldn’t handle two babies, David. I gave Sophia to you because I knew she’d have a better life with you. I… I thought I’d come back for Angel when I was ready, but I never got stable enough. I thought you’d hate me if you found out.”
A sad woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Hate you?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Lisa, you lied to me about my own child. You didn’t think I had the right to know?”
“I was ashamed,” she said, her voice breaking. “I thought I could fix it someday. I thought… maybe I’d have a chance to make it right.”
A sad woman talking on her phone | Source: Freepik
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “Lisa, I’m taking her home. Angel is my daughter, and she deserves to be with her family.”
Lisa hesitated for a moment. Then she said quietly, “I understand. Take care of her, David. She deserves the world.”
A serious man talking on his phone | Source: Midjourney
I ended the call and stood there for a moment, letting the reality of the situation sink in. Angel wasn’t just a child who looked like Sophia, she was Sophia’s twin. My twin daughters.
I turned back to the playroom, where Emily was kneeling beside Angel, helping her fit a puzzle piece into the board. She looked up as I approached, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“She’s ours,” I said firmly.
A man talking to his wife in a playroom | Source: Midjourney
Emily nodded, her voice trembling. “I already knew.”
Angel looked between us, her small face lighting up. “Does that mean you’re my new mom and dad?”
I crouched beside her, taking her tiny hand in mine. “Yes, Angel. That’s exactly what it means.”
Emily reached over and hugged her, her tears spilling freely now. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered.
A woman hugging her daughter | Source: Pexels
Angel giggled, wrapping her arms around Emily. “I knew it. I just knew.”
In that moment, I realized something profound: love doesn’t just find a way—it creates miracles. And this was ours.
The adoption process moved faster than we’d hoped. Mrs. Graham and her team were incredibly supportive, guiding us through each step. A week later, it was official.
A woman signing documents | Source: Pexels
The day we brought her home, Sophia was waiting by the door, clutching her favorite stuffed bear. Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw Angel.
“Daddy, who’s that?” she asked, her voice curious.
I knelt down, pulling Angel beside me. “Sophia, this is Angel. She’s your sister—your twin.”
Sophia’s jaw dropped. “Twin? We’re the same?” She ran forward, throwing her arms around Angel.
A smiling little girl | Source: Pexels
Angel laughed, hugging her back.
From that moment, the girls were inseparable. They compared everything—birthmarks, favorite colors, and even how they liked their sandwiches. Emily and I stood in the doorway, overwhelmed by the sight of them together.
“We did it,” Emily said, wiping her tears.
Twin sisters playing with a laptop | Source: Pexels
“No,” I whispered. “They did.”
Five years later, our home is filled with laughter and love. Sophia and Angel are sharing secrets and adventures like only twins can.
Emily has embraced motherhood fully, cherishing every chaotic, joyful moment.
A smiling woman on a chair | Source: Pexels
One evening, as the girls practiced a dance routine in the living room, I turned to Emily. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?”
“All the time,” she said, smiling.
Watching our daughters together, I realized how love had brought us here. It reminded me that family isn’t about biology only, but about the bonds we choose to nurture.
A man with his daughters | Source: Pexels
And love, as always, found a way.
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