My father lied about everything just to be with his mistress. But I found out the shocking truth… thanks to a random meeting with someone I thought was dead.
When I was just eight years old, my whole world fell apart. My mom got really sick and had to stay in the hospital. My dad would take me to visit her sometimes, and even though she looked tired, she always smiled when she saw me. I thought she would get better. I believed it with all my heart.
But then, one evening, Dad came home looking sad. His eyes were red like he’d been crying. He sat me down on the couch and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Josh… your mother is gone.”
I broke down right there, crying so hard I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt, my throat burned, but Dad just hugged me tightly and said, “We have to pack up, buddy.”
Through my tears, I asked, “Where are we going?”
Dad brushed my hair back and said, “We can’t stay here anymore, Josh. There are too many memories… too much pain. We need a fresh start.”
So, still crying, I helped him pack our things. A few hours later, we were driving away from the only home I had ever known.
The car ride felt endless. I stared out the window, watching everything I knew disappear behind me. Finally, we pulled up to a new house. It looked kind of like the old one, just a little smaller. Dad smiled and said, “You’ll love it here, Josh. You’ll make tons of new friends.”
I tried to believe him.
But just a few days after we moved in, a woman started showing up all the time. She was tall, thin, and had a sharp, fake smile. Dad introduced her one evening.
“Josh, this is Erika. She’s a great friend,” he said, putting his arm around her.
I tried to be polite and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Erika.”
She barely looked at me. “Ah, yes, sure. So, Owen, what’s for dinner?” she said, totally ignoring me and turning to Dad.
I was confused. Why didn’t she care about me? But Dad looked so happy, laughing and joking with her, so I stayed quiet. If he was happy, maybe things would be okay.
They weren’t.
Only a few months after Mom’s death, Dad married Erika. She moved in immediately. And from the second she unpacked her things, she made it clear: she didn’t want me around.
She yelled at me constantly. No matter what I did, it was never good enough. One day, after I accidentally spilled a glass of milk, she screamed, “God! You’re useless, just like your mother!”
I snapped, my whole body shaking with anger. “Don’t talk about my mother! Did you even know her?” I shouted.
Erika’s face twisted into a cruel grin. “Of course, I knew her! Her stupid sickness was dragging your father down. He needed to get away from her!” she sneered.
Just then, Dad stormed into the room. “Josh! What are you doing upsetting your new mother?” he shouted.
“She started talking about my mom!” I argued.
“Don’t talk back to me! Go to your room and finish your homework, now!” he ordered, his voice booming through the house.
“Fine!” I yelled and stomped off, slamming my door.
Years passed, but Erika never stopped treating me like trash. When I got older, they even started going on long vacations without me, leaving me alone in the house. Honestly, I didn’t care anymore. I was used to it. I just counted down the days until I could leave that awful place for good.
But Erika crossed the line when I was seventeen.
I came home from school one day and found her in my room. She was touching everything — my books, my desk, even my dresser. I exploded. “What are you doing in here?” I snapped.
“I’m cleaning this disgusting mess,” she said, holding up a photo of my mom. “And this picture? It’s going in the trash. I will not tolerate another woman’s photo in my house. It’s been years. You need to move on.”
My blood boiled. “Don’t you dare touch that picture!” I shouted.
“I’ll do whatever I want in my house!” she screamed back. “You’re nothing but a spoiled brat! I can’t wait until you’re out of here!”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. “I can’t wait to leave either! You’re a horrible, evil witch!” I screamed.
Dad heard the yelling and came rushing in. “What is going on in here?” he demanded.
Erika pointed at me, smirking. “As usual, your son is causing trouble. He insulted me!”
Dad turned his furious gaze on me. “Josh! How many times do I have to tell you to respect your mother?!”
“She’s NOT my mother! She’s a monster! I hate her!” I shouted, tears streaming down my face.
For a second, I thought Dad was going to hit me. His fist clenched, his face went red. I didn’t wait around to find out.
I grabbed my mom’s picture out of Erika’s hands and ran. I didn’t stop until I got to the bus stop. I didn’t even know where I was going — I just got on the first bus that came.
Somehow, I ended up back in our old town.
It felt weird walking the streets I barely remembered. I wandered around until I found our old house. New people lived there now — a family with kids playing in the front yard. Watching them laugh made my heart ache even more. That could’ve been me… if everything hadn’t gone so wrong.
I kept walking, feeling lost and hopeless. That’s when I saw her — a homeless woman sitting on a bench. Her clothes were worn, her face tired, but her eyes… her eyes were the same.
“Hello, ma’am,” I said carefully, stepping closer.
She looked up. “What can I do for you, young man?” she asked.
I stared at her, my heart pounding. She looked exactly like my mom. But… how? Mom was dead.
I swallowed hard and asked, “Are you… Emma Fraser?”
Her eyes widened in shock. She stared at me for a second, then gasped. “Do you know me?”
I nodded. “I’m Josh,” I whispered.
“Josh?! Is it really you, son? Oh my God! It’s you!” she cried, pulling me into the tightest hug I’d ever felt. We both broke down crying, right there on the sidewalk.
When we finally calmed down, I asked, “Mom… what happened? Dad said you were dead.”
She shook her head fiercely, anger flashing in her eyes. “That lying snake! I can’t believe he told you that! Josh, after you stopped visiting me at the hospital, I kept trying to call, but your father never answered. I thought something terrible had happened.”
“He moved us away,” I told her quietly. “He said we needed a fresh start.”
Mom’s face crumpled. “That horrible man! When I finally got out of the hospital, I found out he had emptied our bank accounts and filed for divorce behind my back. He made sure to get full custody of you. I couldn’t even fight back — everything was done through lawyers.”
Tears welled up again as I listened. “He made sure you couldn’t find me?”
She nodded. “I sold the house — the only thing he left me — to pay lawyers and private detectives to look for you. But I ran out of money. No one wants to help a homeless woman.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom!” I sobbed.
She hugged me again and said, “It’s not your fault, Josh. You were just a kid. The important thing is… we found each other.”
I wiped my tears and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. You won’t be homeless anymore. I have savings. We’ll figure it out.”
And we did.
Even though I was only seventeen, we managed to rent a tiny apartment together. I got a job after graduation and started taking night classes. Mom, after some time and a lot of hard work, got back into her old career too — something she had given up when she got sick.
I even changed my last name to Fraser — Mom’s maiden name. I wanted nothing to do with my father’s name anymore. He had lost the right to call me his son.
What can we learn from this story?
The truth always comes out in the end. Evil people might win for a little while, but good finds a way to shine through.
And blood doesn’t always make you family. True family is about love, loyalty, and standing by each other — not just a name.
