Hey everyone! My name is Colleen. I’m 32 and single. I haven’t found the right guy yet, but I’m still hopeful. I love kids and can’t wait to have my own someday. Finding true love is hard, but I believe it’s worth waiting for the right person. Little did I know, my life was about to change in a way I never expected.
One evening, during my usual walk with my dog, I noticed two little girls, around 8 years old, sitting alone on a park bench. They wore shabby clothes, and their eyes were filled with sadness. They were there every night, always by themselves. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
As the weather got colder, the girls kept coming back to the park, wearing the same thin, worn-out jackets. They were shivering under the flickering streetlights, and my concern for them grew. I knew I had to do something, so one evening, I decided to follow them and find out what was really going on.
The sun was setting as the girls stood up, holding hands, and started walking away from the park. They moved slowly, like they were scared of what was ahead. My worry deepened with every step, but I kept my distance, making sure they were safe.
To my surprise, they boarded a bus, looking even smaller and more fragile under the harsh bus lights. They whispered to each other as the bus traveled nine long stops. My heart pounded harder with each mile.
When they finally got off, I couldn’t believe my eyes. They walked into a wealthy neighborhood, their shabby clothes standing out against the big, beautiful houses around them. They approached a large home and went inside without hesitation. I stood there, stunned. How could these neglected girls live in such a fancy place? Something wasn’t adding up.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. A maid answered, giving me a suspicious look.
“Can I help you?” she asked sharply.
“Yes, I’d like to speak with the parents of the twin girls who just came in,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
The maid hesitated but finally nodded. “Wait here, please.”
A few minutes later, a man appeared. He was wearing an expensive suit and had a cold look on his face.
“What do you want?” he snapped.
I swallowed nervously. “Sir, I’m concerned about your daughters. I’ve seen them alone in the park every evening, and it’s not safe—”
He cut me off angrily. “That’s none of your business. Don’t come here again.” He slammed the door in my face.
I walked away, my mind racing. Something was terribly wrong, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that those girls needed help.
The next day, I went to the park earlier than usual. Around 4 p.m., the twins showed up, sitting on their usual bench. I gathered my courage and approached them.
“Hi there,” I said softly. “I’m Colleen. What are your names?”
They exchanged cautious looks before the taller one spoke. “I’m Hannah, and this is Lily.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. I’ve seen you here a lot. Are you okay? Where are your parents?” I asked.
Hannah’s lip trembled. “Our mom died three years ago. Dad remarried, and now…” She stopped, looking at her sister.
Lily continued, “Our stepmom doesn’t like us. She makes us come here every day because she doesn’t want us at home.”
My heart sank. “What about your dad? Does he know?” I asked.
Hannah nodded sadly. “He doesn’t care anymore. Not since the baby came.”
I sat beside them, overwhelmed by their story. “Girls, I want to help. Can you tell me more?”
For the next hour, Hannah and Lily told me about their difficult lives. After their mother’s death, their father remarried quickly, and soon after, their stepmother had a son. From that moment, the girls were pushed aside.
“She only buys us old clothes from secondhand shops,” Lily said, looking down at her worn-out sweater.
Hannah added, “And if we come home before dark, she won’t feed us dinner. She says we’re a burden.”
I felt a wave of anger and sadness. “Does your father know about all this?” I asked.
They both nodded, looking down.
“Have you told anyone else?” I asked gently.
“No. Our stepmother says no one would believe us,” Hannah said bitterly. “She says we live in a big house, so people think we’re lucky.”
“I believe you,” I said firmly, “and I want to help. But first, I need to know something. Do you want to stay with your family? Or would you rather live with people who care for you?”
The girls looked at each other, then back at me, tears in their eyes.
“We don’t want to live in that house,” Lily whispered. “We want to live with people who won’t throw us out every day.”
My heart broke for them, but I felt a strong sense of determination. “Alright,” I said. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you. But first, I need to record what you’ve told me. Is that okay?”
They nodded, and I took out my phone to record their story. As they spoke, I felt both anger and sadness. How could anyone treat children this way?
After we finished, I gave them my phone number. “If you ever feel unsafe or need help, call me anytime, okay?”
They promised they would, and I watched them leave the park, their small bodies weighed down by their troubles.
That evening, I decided to confront their father one more time. When he opened the door, his face turned dark.
“I told you not to come back,” he growled.
“Sir, please,” I said, “I’m worried about Hannah and Lily. They’re not being cared for properly—”
He interrupted with a sneer. “Those ungrateful brats have been spreading stories, have they? Mind your own business, lady. They have a roof over their heads and food to eat. What more do they want?”
“They want love,” I said quietly. “They want to feel safe and valued. Every child deserves that.”
“They should be grateful for what they have. Now get off my property before I call the police.”
As the door slammed shut, I knew I had to act fast.
The next morning, I contacted social services, reporting everything the girls had told me. I gave them the recording and explained what happened with their father. They assured me they would investigate right away.
Two days later, I got a call. Social services had removed Hannah and Lily from their home. Their father and stepmother were facing charges of neglect and abuse. The girls were safe, but they needed a place to stay while a permanent home was found.
Without a second thought, I volunteered to be their foster mother. It was a big decision, but something in my heart told me it was the right thing to do.
When Hannah and Lily arrived at my apartment, their eyes were filled with both fear and hope.
“Is this really okay?” Hannah asked quietly. “We can stay here?”
I knelt down to their level and smiled. “Yes, sweethearts. You’re safe here. You can stay as long as you need.”
Lily’s lip quivered. “You won’t send us away?”
“Never,” I promised. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want to stay.”
The next few weeks were a whirlwind. I took them shopping for new clothes, enrolled them in a nearby school, and spent every moment showing them how much they were loved.
As the days went by, I found myself falling in love with these brave, little girls. They brought a kind of joy into my life that I had never felt before.
Three months later, as we stood in the park, I made another big decision.
“Girls,” I said, looking at them, “I have something important to ask you.”
They looked at me with a mix of curiosity and worry.
“How would you feel if I applied to adopt you? To be your forever mom?”
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, suddenly, I was surrounded by two small bodies, hugging me tightly, both of them crying and laughing.
“Yes, yes, yes!” they shouted together.
As I held them close, my own tears flowed, and I marveled at how my life had changed.
I always thought I’d find love in a romantic partner and maybe have children someday. Instead, love found me in the form of two little girls who needed someone to see them, hear them, and fight for them.
The adoption process wasn’t easy, but we faced it together. Six months later, Hannah and Lily officially became my daughters.
Looking back, I’m so thankful I trusted my instincts that night in the park. By choosing to get involved, I didn’t just change the lives of two beautiful girls—I found a love and purpose I never knew I was missing.
So, to anyone reading this, I urge you: if you see something that feels wrong, speak up. You never know whose life you might change.
