Mike sat behind the grocery store counter, slouched and tired. His work uniform was wrinkled, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well in days. All around him, customers chatted, scanners beeped, and carts rolled past. But Mike’s mind was somewhere else entirely.
He bagged groceries without thinking, his hands on autopilot. When a customer handed him a crumpled twenty-dollar bill, he forced a fake smile.
“Thank you. Have a good day,” he said, his voice rough. But honestly? His days never felt good anymore.
As the next customer stepped up, Mike’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn’t need to check it—he already knew.
Another medical bill.
That morning, as he made instant coffee, he’d seen one just like it—stacked among others on the kitchen table. His mom’s hospital visits were drowning them in debt.
Mike worked almost every day—six days a week, sometimes double shifts—but it was never enough. The money always disappeared as fast as it came in. And his mother, Kaila, was getting sicker. Her treatments were important, but they were pulling the family deeper and deeper into a hole.
By the end of his shift, Mike was completely drained. His feet ached as he stepped into the freezing night air. He didn’t even look at the stars anymore. He just walked home.
The apartment was small and quiet. Dim lights flickered as he walked in. On the couch sat his mother, wrapped in a blanket. Her face looked even paler than usual.
“Hey, Mom,” Mike said softly, dropping his bag on the table.
Kaila smiled weakly. “How was work, sweetheart?”
“It was fine.”
“Don’t work so hard, Mike,” she said. “I hate that you’re carrying all of this on your own.”
Mike looked away. He didn’t want her to see how tired—how scared—he really was.
“It’s nothing, Mom,” he said, trying to smile. “I’ve got it under control.”
She nodded, but they both knew it wasn’t true.
In his bedroom, unopened envelopes covered his desk. He didn’t have the courage to look at them. He stood by the window, staring into the darkness.
Why is staying alive so expensive? he thought. Even with insurance, the costs kept rising. Rent was almost due. And there was barely enough money left to pay it.
His eyes drifted to a dusty box in the corner. Inside was something he hadn’t touched in years—his grandmother’s Bible.
“You had to be so petty, didn’t you, Grandma?” Mike whispered bitterly.
Grace had been the heart of their family. Strong. Religious. And always certain she was right. She used to beg Mike to come with her to church every Sunday. But he never listened.
He remembered their last fight like it was yesterday.
Six Years Ago
Mike had just turned 18. All he wanted was a fun weekend with his friends—not another Sunday stuck in church.
“Michael,” Grace had said, standing in his doorway. Her Bible was tucked under one arm, and she wore her best church outfit. “It’s time for church.”
Mike didn’t look up from his phone. “I’m not going, Grandma. I already made plans.”
“Plans?” Her voice got louder. “What plans could be more important than spending time with the Lord?”
“I’m 18 now,” Mike replied. “I can make my own decisions. And I’m not wasting another Sunday listening to sermons.”
Grace stepped into the room. “That’s nonsense. Get up. Put on a clean shirt. Come with me.”
“No! I’m not going!” Mike shouted. “Why can’t you just let me live my life? I’m not a bad person just because I don’t want to go to church!”
“I’m trying to save your soul, Michael. One day, you’ll thank me.”
“Yeah, well… I’m good,” Mike muttered. “I don’t need saving. Just leave me alone!”
Grace stood still, then said coldly, “If that’s how you feel, I won’t visit anymore. I won’t speak to you again, Michael.”
Mike paused—shocked—but then said, “Great. Then we both get what we want.”
She left the room without saying another word. The door slammed behind her.
Two months later, Grace died of natural causes.
The Funeral
The sky was gray the day they buried her. Cold wind bit at everyone’s faces. Mike stood in the back of the church, his hands deep in his pockets. He didn’t look at the casket. He couldn’t.
An older woman gently touched his arm.
“She loved you, you know,” she said.
Mike glanced at her. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
During the service, the priest spoke about Grace’s deep faith and how much she loved her family—even when they made it hard.
Mike sat there, heart pounding.
Even when it was tough… she still loved me.
As the casket was lowered into the ground, guilt settled like a stone in his stomach.
“I should’ve just gone to church,” he whispered.
Kaila heard him. She squeezed his arm and said softly, “She knew you loved her, Mike. She knew.”
But he wasn’t sure.
The Will
Mike sat stiffly in the lawyer’s office. His mother sat beside him, quietly wringing her hands.
The lawyer cleared his throat. “To Grace’s beloved church, she leaves her entire estate—including her home and financial assets.”
Mike’s jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”
The lawyer continued, “To her grandson Michael, she leaves a Bible with a note: ‘Open it when it’s hard.’”
“A Bible?” Mike asked in disbelief. “That’s it?”
“Yes,” the lawyer replied, sliding it across the table.
Mike stared at the worn leather cover like it was some kind of joke.
“She left me nothing else?”
“Correct.”
Anger flared inside him.
“All because I didn’t go to church one day?” he shouted.
“Mike…” Kaila tried to calm him.
“No, Mom. This is ridiculous!” he snapped.
He grabbed the Bible and shoved it into his bag, not even looking at it.
For six years, that Bible stayed hidden in a box. Unopened. Forgotten.
Now
Now, everything was falling apart. His mom was sicker. The bills were bigger. And the note from Grace echoed in his head.
Open it when it’s hard.
“Well, Grandma,” he said bitterly, “it doesn’t get much harder than this.”
Mike pulled the box from the corner. He dug through it until he found the Bible. Dust covered it. The leather was old and cracked.
He sat on the couch and opened it.
There, tucked between the pages, was money.
Two crisp $100 bills.
“What the…” he whispered.
He flipped more pages. More bills. Hundreds. Then thousands.
His hands shook as he laid the money on his bed. Tears filled his eyes.
“Oh God, Grandma,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He cried—really cried—as all the memories of Grace came back.
Her voice. Her hugs. Her faith. Her stubbornness. Her love.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The money was enough. More than enough. He rushed to the hospital.
At the Hospital
Kaila turned her head slowly as Mike rushed into the room.
“Mike?” she said weakly. “What’s wrong?”
He dropped into the chair beside her and grabbed her hand. His eyes were shining.
“Mom, you’re not gonna believe this,” he said, his voice trembling. “Grandma… she saved us.”
“What?”
“She hid money in her Bible. Thousands of dollars, Mom!”
Kaila’s eyes widened. “Thousands?”
Mike nodded. “She left it for us. She knew I’d need it someday.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “That stubborn old woman saved us.”
Kaila laughed softly. “That sounds exactly like Grace. She always knew what she was doing.”
“I didn’t deserve it,” Mike whispered. “I treated her so badly.”
“Your grandma’s love was unconditional, Mike,” Kaila said. “That’s what real love is.”
“I don’t know how to make it up to her.”
“You already are,” she said, squeezing his hand. “She’d be proud of you.”
A New Beginning
With the money, Kaila got the treatment she needed. The bills were paid. Mike cut back his hours and even enrolled in a part-time accounting course—something he had always dreamed of.
And for the first time in years, Mike felt hope.
He finally believed that life could be better.
And he knew—without a doubt—that Grace had always loved him.
Even when it was tough.
