Stuck in an elevator with a stranger was bad enough. But when Lena found out Dylan—a charming, suit-clad mystery man—needed a fake date for a wedding the next day, things got even weirder. A power outage, a bold proposition, and one tempting question: Would she really say yes to a total stranger?
Lena checked her watch for the third time in a minute. Late. Again.
She exhaled sharply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she strode down the boutique hotel’s hallway.
The air smelled of fresh lilies, their floral sharpness mixed with the faintest trace of citrus and polished wood.
It was the kind of scent that clung to weddings—the kind that brought memories of champagne toasts, aching feet in high heels, and teary speeches that went on too long.
A fitting reminder, considering her best friend had gotten married last week.
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Lena reached the elevator and jabbed the button, as if sheer determination could speed up the machinery.
She bounced on her heels, fingers tapping anxiously against the strap of her bag.
The soft chime of the elevator arriving barely registered in her brain before she darted inside.
Just as the doors started closing, a blur of movement caught her eye. A man lunged in after her, his shoulder bumping into hers as her suitcase wobbled dangerously.
“Sorry—” he started, a breathless chuckle in his voice. He straightened, brushing an imaginary wrinkle from his crisp suit.
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Lena barely spared him a glance. “No worries.”
And then, everything stopped.
The elevator jerked violently. The lights flickered once, twice, then steadied. The hum of movement vanished.
Lena’s stomach clenched. A thick, loaded silence filled the small space.
She pressed the button repeatedly. Nothing.
“Oh, no. No, no, no,” she muttered, pressing her palm against the cool metal doors as if she could will them open.
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Beside her, the man let out a deep sigh and leaned against the wall. “Classic. Always when you’re in a rush.”
Lena finally turned to him fully. Sharp blue eyes. Tousled blond hair. A suit that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover.
A Hallmark movie hero, if she’d ever seen one.
“I take it you have somewhere important to be?” he asked, his lips quirking in amusement.
“A dinner with a friend,” she muttered. “She got married last week. We planned this before I leave town.”
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“Ah,” he nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Funny coincidence. The wedding I’m going to is tomorrow.”
Lena blinked. “Wait. You’re—”
“Dylan.” He extended a hand, palm up, as if this was the most normal introduction in the world. “Groom’s best friend. And emergency wedding date seeker.”
Before she could even process that, the intercom crackled overhead.
“Uh, folks? Seems like we’ve got a small power outage affecting the elevators. We’re working on it. Might take a bit.”
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Lena closed her eyes briefly. “Perfect.”
Dylan chuckled. “Look on the bright side. At least we’re not alone in here.”
She shot him a look. “Right. Because being stuck with a stranger is somehow better than being stuck alone.”
He shrugged, flashing a lazy grin. “Depends on the stranger, doesn’t it?”
They stood in awkward silence for a moment. The hum of hotel activity beyond the metal doors felt distant, as if they were suspended in time.
Then, out of nowhere, Dylan asked, “So, any chance you’re up for a second wedding in a week?”
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Lena turned to him slowly, brow raised. “Excuse me?”
“I need a date for the wedding.” He smirked, leaning against the wall like this was just another casual conversation.
“My ex is going to be there, and I’d rather not be the guy sitting alone at the singles table. Think of it as a fake date for a noble cause.”
Lena let out a short laugh. Was this guy serious?
“You’re really asking a total stranger to be your plus-one while we’re trapped in an elevator?”
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Dylan shrugged, completely unbothered. “So, is it a yes or a no?”
Lena never thought she’d actually go through with it.
The whole thing had sounded ridiculous—a fake date with a man she barely knew, just to help him save face at a wedding. And yet, here she was.
She smoothed her hands down the fabric of her red dress, the one she had almost left hanging in the back of her suitcase.
It wasn’t her usual style—too bold, too eye-catching, too much.
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But something about tonight made her want to be someone else, even if just for a few hours.
Dylan stood beside her, a glass of champagne in one hand, his other resting lightly on the small of her back. Steady, effortless, completely at ease. Unlike her.
She forced a polite smile as yet another guest approached, throwing curious glances her way.
Weddings were strange like that—everyone wanted to know who you were, why you were there, if your presence meant something.
Dylan, on the other hand, played the part perfectly.
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He leaned down, murmuring in her ear, “That woman in the blue dress has been trying to figure out if we’re engaged for the past ten minutes.”
Lena barely stopped herself from laughing. “Should I flash a fake ring just to mess with her?”
His eyes twinkled. “Tempting. But then I’d have to plan an even faker proposal.”
They moved through the ballroom like they had done this a hundred times before—his touch easy, his words charming, his smile like a safety net.
And then there was the dance.
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The moment his fingers laced with hers, the moment he guided her into a slow, fluid rhythm, Lena forgot for a second that this wasn’t real.
His grip was firm but gentle, the kind that told her to trust him. The warmth of his palm against her waist sent an unfamiliar shiver down her spine.
This was pretend. She knew that. But something about the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room—made it too easy to forget.
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As the bride and groom swayed in the center of the dance floor, Lena tilted her head up. “So, tell me,” she murmured, “what’s the deal with this ex of yours?”
Dylan took a sip of champagne, and for the first time all night, his smile flickered. Just for a second.
“Maya,” he said, rolling the name on his tongue like it was still a part of him. “We dated for a while. Things got… complicated.”
Lena raised a brow. “Complicated how?”
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He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking down to the golden liquid swirling in his glass. “She thought I wasn’t serious enough. That I didn’t have time for her.”
“And did you?”
Dylan paused, then let out a dry chuckle. “Maybe not. But I was trying.”
Before Lena could respond, someone called Dylan’s name.
She turned just in time to see her.
Maya.
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Lena didn’t need an introduction to know exactly who she was.
Tall. Poised. Beautiful in that effortless way that made other women feel like they were trying too hard.
Her presence filled the room with a quiet kind of power—like she knew she belonged anywhere she went.
And when she reached Dylan, she hugged him.
Not a casual, polite hug. Not an awkward, we-used-to-date hug.
Something in between. Something that made Lena’s chest tighten in a way it shouldn’t have.
She wasn’t supposed to care. This wasn’t real.
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And yet, it sure as hell felt like it was.
The reception was in full swing—laughter, clinking glasses, music that vibrated through the floor—but Lena barely heard any of it.
Her fingers gripped the stem of her champagne glass a little too tightly as she watched Dylan and Maya across the room.
Too close. Too familiar. Too much. Their voices were low, their expressions unreadable. Whatever they were saying, it wasn’t for her to hear.
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And yet, she couldn’t look away.
This was supposed to be a game. A favor. A night of harmless pretending. But now, her stomach twisted, and she hated the feeling.
A shadow moved beside her. “Everything okay?”
Dylan.
Lena blinked, dragging her gaze from Maya. She forced a smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. “Great. You and Maya catching up?”
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Dylan’s frown was subtle but there. “Not really. She just wanted to check in.”
Check in. Right.
“Lena,” he started, voice softer now, careful. “You know this isn’t—”
“Not real?” she cut in, her heart hammering. “Yeah. I know.”
The words felt wrong.
She swallowed hard. She needed to leave before she made a fool of herself.
“Thanks for the night, Dylan,” she said, turning on her heel. “But I think I’m done playing pretend.”
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And then, she walked away.
Lena had her bag packed before the sun had fully risen. She had spent the night convincing herself that walking away was the right choice. No messy feelings. No unnecessary complications. Just a clean break.
But as she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped into the hotel lobby, her chest felt heavier than it should. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep. Maybe it was something else.
She headed toward the café, craving caffeine and distraction, but fate had other plans.
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She turned the corner too fast, and suddenly—collision.
Hot coffee sloshed dangerously close to her dress as Dylan stumbled back, gripping his cup to stop the spill.
“Lena?” His voice was a mix of surprise and something else—something unreadable.
She cursed under her breath. Of course. Of course, she had to run into him now.
“I was just—” she started, but Dylan wasn’t buying it.
“Leaving?” His eyes locked onto hers, sharp, searching. “Without saying anything?”
Lena exhaled, torn between pride and something that felt a lot like longing. “It was just supposed to be a one-time thing, right?”
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Dylan was silent for a beat, then let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” he admitted, voice rough. “That’s what I thought, too.” He hesitated, then took a step closer. “Until I realized I didn’t want it to end.”
Lena’s pulse stumbled. “What?”
“Last night,” he said, his voice softer now, steady, “I watched you walk away, and all I could think about was how much I didn’t want you to go.”
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Her heart thudded against her ribs. “Dylan—”
“I don’t care about Maya,” he cut in, his tone firm, certain. “I don’t care about anyone else. I care about you.”
Lena wanted to believe him. But doubt—fear—clawed at her. “What if this is just—”
“It’s not,” Dylan interrupted, seeing right through her hesitation. “You feel it, too. Don’t you?”
She swallowed hard.
Yes.
Yes, she did.
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So, for once, she stopped overthinking.
She stepped forward, reached up, and kissed him.
A kiss that was warm. Real. Nothing like pretending.
Dylan smiled against her lips. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”
Lena laughed softly. “Maybe. But only if you promise to stop getting us stuck in elevators.”
Dylan chuckled, his hand slipping easily around her waist. “No guarantees.”
And with that, Lena finally let herself fall.
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Woman Adopts Non-English Speaking Girl, Is Shocked to Uncover the Truth When She Learns to Communicate – Story of the Day
After finding out she couldn’t have a baby, Annie’s doctor gave her another choice: adoption, which led to a girl named Abiona, who couldn’t speak English at first. But when her new daughter learned enough, she told Annie a secret that changed everything.
Annie sat anxiously in Dr. Martinez’s office, surrounded by posters of happy families. The doctor, a middle-aged woman with a comforting demeanor, invited her to sit.
Smiling, Annie asked, “When can we proceed with the fertilization procedure?”
Dr. Martinez took a deep breath before saying, “Unfortunately, the tests show you cannot have children. I’m very sorry.”
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Annie’s heart sank. Despite considering IVF, the doctor advised against it due to low success rates and high risks. But she suggested an alternative — adoption — and handed Annie a booklet filled with information and pictures of children needing a home.
***
Annie sat at her kitchen table, the quiet of her home enveloping her as she browsed through the booklet. She was drawn to a photo of a baby, entranced by his innocent, smiling face.
Picking up the phone with trembling hands, she called the adoption agency and made an appointment. A few days later, she met Caitlin, a social worker, who welcomed Annie into her modest office. “Sorry you had to wait,” she said, shaking her head.
“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Annie replied, masking her nervousness.
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They sat and discussed Annie’s career, home life, and desire to adopt. “Can you devote enough time to a child? It’s not just a few hours a day,” Caitlin wondered.
Annie responded, “Yes, I understand. I’m ready to make sacrifices for my child.”
“Adoption can be challenging, especially in the beginning,” Caitlin continued, but ultimately, she approved Annie’s application.
“I understand,” Annie said, her voice firm. “Thank you.”
***
The next morning, Caitlin’s call interrupted Annie’s breakfast. “Hello, Annie?” she inquired.
“Yes, it’s me,” Annie replied.
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“We’ve found a child for you,” the social worker revealed and talked about Abiona, a six-year-old from Congo who didn’t speak English. “Would you like to meet her today?”
“6 years old? No English? I… I need to think about this,” Annie’s voice wavered.
“Of course, take all the time you need. Have a good day,” Caitlin responded, but Annie heard her sighing before hanging up.
Annie spent the rest of the day pondering the idea of adopting a six-year-old. Motherhood typically began with a baby, so going straight into parenting an older child seemed… odd. However, this could be her only shot.
She called Caitlin the next day with a resounding yes, and the social worker arranged a visit with Abiona, who was staying with a foster family.
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***
Arriving at the foster home, Annie knocked on the door, her heart racing. She was greeted by a woman who, in a not particularly friendly tone, said, “Hello, how’s it going?”
“Hi, I’m Annie,” she replied, fidgeting slightly. “I came to see Abiona.”
The woman showed Annie inside, and it was hard not to notice the chaotic scene of her house. Kids were running around, the television blared in the background, and the living room was full of stuff.
But the woman pointed to a corner where Abiona sat, quietly drawing. “That’s her. Good luck because she doesn’t talk to anyone,” she said and left to scold some other kids.
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Annie approached the girl, who briefly met her gaze before resuming her drawing. “Did you draw these yourself? They’re imposing,” she asked, kneeling to look closer.
Abiona nodded slightly without speaking.
The foster mother interrupted. “Don’t even try. She doesn’t understand a word of English,” she said. Annie looked up to see her sporting a superior expression.
“That’s fine,” Annie said, focusing entirely on the girl. She sat beside her and began drawing, too, attempting to communicate through pictures.
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She drew a house and a stick figure with long hair, saying, “This is my house. I live here. Do you want to live with me?”
The girl stared for a second at the paper, then at Annie’s face, before drawing a smaller stick figure next to hers. The gesture made Annie grin as her stomach fluttered.
***
She brought Abiona to her home and introduced her to her new cozy bedroom. The girl stayed silent and observant as she explored everything.
When she found paints and brushes laid out, she immediately began to draw, humming a happy tune. Annie watched for a second, taking in the moment. I’m finally a Mom, she thought before joining her new daughter.
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Over the following months, Annie tried teaching Abiona English, but the traditional methods overwhelmed her. Therefore, she adapted her approach, using drawing sessions to teach her the language in a fun, engaging way.
Abiona responded positively, slowly learning words and phrases.
One day, while exploring the concept of family with a picture book, Annie pointed to an illustration and said, “See, this is a family,” then pointed to herself, “Mom,” and to Abiona, “Daughter.”
But instead of nodding in understanding, Abiona’s reaction was unexpected; she burst into tears.
“What’s wrong?” Annie asked, patting the girl’s head.
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Abiona grabbed some of her drawings. “I have Mom and Dad,” she revealed, pointing her finger at the paper. Annie’s eyes widened. She didn’t understand because Caitlin had never talked about Abiona’s family.
“What are you saying, honey?” she asked.
“Bad…bad men took me from Mom and Dad,” the girl continued.
“Okay, okay,” Annie said, her voice turning low and soothing. “Tell me more.”
Through her broken English, Abiona explained that the evil men had taken her, but then she was with the police. She showed Annie a handmade toy, her only memory of her biological mom.
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“I little. Don’t know Mom’s face. But Mom smells honey. She give me this,” Abiona finished, biting her bottom lip and looking away to wipe a tear.
Annie was breathing heavily then, trying to contain her own emotions. A six-year-old shouldn’t have to be so strong by herself. She hugged the little girl, who began sobbing into her chest. Revealing that secret made their bond much stronger.
***
Months later, Abiona suffered a severe coughing fit in the night. Annie rushed her to the hospital as quickly as possible. “I need help! My daughter, she can’t breathe!” she wailed at the emergency room staff.
The medical team quickly attended to her daughter, leaving Annie anxiously waiting outside the exam room. Soon, she was stabilized but surrounded by beeping machines that only made things scarier. But the absolute horror came a few hours after the staff conducted several tests.
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One doctor entered the room, took a deep breath, and began. “I’m very sorry to tell you this. But Abiona is terminally ill. She only has a few days left.”
His words were careful, but they cut through Annie like a knife. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What’s wrong with her?”
The doctor explained her condition. It had a complicated name that Annie didn’t understand as her mind was fogging with the implications.
“Should I have noticed sooner? She seemed so healthy. I adopted her a few months ago. No one told me anything.”
“You couldn’t have done much even if you had noticed something. This is a genetic disease, and it manifests very unexpectedly. This is not your fault,” the doctor finished, patting her shoulder, and left.
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***
Abiona awoke an hour later.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Annie whispered, squeezing the girl’s hand. “Is there anything you want? Anything I can get for you?”
Abiona’s voice was weak but clear. “I want to see my mom,” she murmured, a wistful look in her eyes.
Annie nodded and, determined to fulfill this wish, left the hospital with Abiona’s handmade toy, hoping it held clues to finding her biological mother. She went to the police station, where they agreed to test the toy for DNA.
Miraculously, they found a match and gave Annie the biological mother’s contact information. Her name was Tendey. Despite the call going unanswered, Annie insisted on finding Abiona’s mother, even if she had to do it in person.
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She drove to Tendey’s address, gathered her courage, and knocked on the door. When a woman appeared, Annie introduced herself and asked, “Tendey?”
The woman responded quickly, impatient. “Yes. That’s me, but I don’t want to join your god. I don’t need any services, and I don’t want to buy anything,” she said, almost closing the door.
But Annie threw her arm up, stopping her. “This is about Abiona,” she blurted. “She is currently in the hospital. The doctor said that she has a serious genetic disease and has a few days to live.”
Annie thought Tendey would be dismayed, but the woman crossed her arms instead. “I gave her away. Voluntarily. Renounced parental rights. So everything that is happening now is not my problem,” Tendey stated coldly.
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“Please. She’s your daughter. She’s dying and wants to see you,” Annie pleaded.
Tendey shook her head. “Listen. I don’t want to see her. Deal with it.”
Looking beyond Tendey, into her house, Annie sighed and noticed something. “Do you sell perfumes? Do you have a honey-scented one?”
“Ugh, yes,” Tendey said, looking behind her, confused.
“How much?” Annie asked.
***
At home, Annie searched on her computer, typing away as her plan fully developed. She searched for an actress resembling Tendey and found Sarah. Annie called and explained the situation.
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Sarah was touched. “I’ll do it. It’s a strange request, but I can see it comes from a place of love,” she said. Annie provided all the details she knew about Abiona and her mother.
In the hospital room the next day, Annie and the actress prepared to fulfill Abiona’s last wish. Sprayed with honey-scented perfume, Sarah approached the girl’s bedside, carefully holding her tiny hand.
“Abiona, this is your mother,” Annie gently introduced.
Abiona, whose condition had worsened so much in just a day, believed Annie’s words easily. “You smell like Mom,” the girl whispered and opened her arms for a hug.
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Sarah obliged, saying, “It’s because I am Mom.”
Abiona turned to Annie. “Thank you,” she whispered before falling asleep again. Sarah left a while later when it became clear that the girl wouldn’t wake up any time soon.
As the sun set, Annie watched over her daughter. Her breaths were too heavy, but that had been the norm for a few hours. She whispered to her, providing comfort and assurance in the quiet room filled with the soft beeping of machines.
She touched the girl’s head at some point and noticed the intense warmth. In her weakened state, Abiona faintly murmured “Mom” before falling back into unconsciousness. Annie rushed to find her doctor, who came in, did a quick examination, and exhaled, lowering his head.
“I’m afraid this may be it,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“No!” Annie wailed, hugging her child.
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Abiona slept a little more soundly in Annie’s arms, but love wasn’t always enough. She passed after midnight with a final soft puff of air.
As the tears started flowing freely, Annie whispered, “You were loved. So loved. I’ll keep loving you forever.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: A sudden tragedy brings Sarah and Eric together in an unbreakable bond. But when the boy learns a painful truth about their past, it sets them on a path of emotional turmoil, challenging the very foundation of their makeshift family and leading to a moment of life-threatening crisis.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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