Day: January 15, 2025

Arnold sat alone in his worn armchair, his tabby cat, Joe, curled in his lap. The air in the little cottage on Maple Street was heavy with silence, save for the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair. At 93, Arnold’s hands trembled as he stroked Joe’s orange fur. The light filtering through the dusty windows fell on a photo album perched on the table—its pages filled with memories frozen in time. “You know what today is, Joe?” Arnold whispered, his voice barely louder than the ticking clock on the wall. “Tommy’s birthday. He’d be 42 now.” He opened the album, his eyes lingering on a picture of a gap-toothed boy grinning ear to ear, frosting smeared across his cheeks. “Mariam made him that superhero cake he begged for. He hugged her so tight he got frosting all over her dress,” Arnold chuckled softly, though tears welled in his eyes. “She didn’t mind. She never minded anything that made them happy.” The mantle above the fireplace displayed five framed photos: Bobby, Jenny, Michael, Sarah, and Tommy. Each picture captured a moment from their childhood—scraped knees, proud trophies, graduation caps, and wedding veils. Arnold’s gaze lingered on the wall beside the photos,… CONTINUE READING…

On our wedding night, my husband, Scott, wanted to get intimate with me, but I turned him down, saying I was tired. He understandingly agreed and kissed me goodnight. Suddenly, at midnight, I felt the bed shake and turned to my side, only to freeze at what Scott was doing on our bed. On our wedding night, amidst the anticipation, I was hesitating. “Scott, can we… can we talk for a bit?” I asked, suggesting we don’t dive right into the “action.” Scott frowned and questioned, “Talk? Now?” Despite his frustration, I expressed my need for more conversation and rest, given the day’s exhaustion. Scott reluctantly agreed, masking his disappointment with a gentle kiss on my cheek before we turned in for the night. However, the tranquility of our lavender-scented suite was shattered when I awoke a few hours later. Our bed was shaking for some reason, and it took a while before my eyes focused enough to see Scott kneeling by the bed, holding a baby. דScott?” I gasped in confusion. “What’s going on?” He looked at me before his eyes darted around as if thinking of an excuse, and finally whispered, “Everly, this is Ella,” he gulped, and… CONTINUE READING…