My Dad always hated my Mom’s painting obsession, believing she was only fit to cook and clean. After their divorce, I stepped into her new home and discovered something that took my breath away.
I never thought I’d be grateful for my parents’ divorce, but life has a way of surprising you. I’m Iva, 25 years old. What I found in my Mom’s new home after the split completely changed my perspective on what true love really looks like and it made me cry…
Grayscale photo of a young woman covering her face | Source: Pexels
Growing up, our house was filled with the smell of oil paints and the sweet scent of turpentine. My Mom, Florence, would always create something beautiful.
But for my Dad, Benjamin, it was just noise and mess.
“Florence! When are you gonna be done with that damn painting?” Dad’s voice would boom from the kitchen. “This place is a pigsty, and dinner’s not even started!”
Side view of a woman painting a picture | Source: Pexels
Mom’s shoulders would tense, but her brush wouldn’t stop moving. “Just a few more minutes, Ben. I’m almost finished with this section.”
Dad would stomp into her workspace, his face red. “You and your silly hobby! When are you gonna grow up and act like a REAL WIFE?”
I’d watch from the doorway, my heart pounding. Mom’s eyes would meet mine, filled with a sadness I couldn’t comprehend as a ten-year-old.
An angry man pointing his finger | Source: Pexels
“Iva, honey, why don’t you go set the table?” she’d say softly.
I’d nod and scurry away, the sound of their argument following me down the hall.
Years passed, and the arguments only got worse. When I was fourteen, they finally called it quits. Dad got custody, and I only saw Mom on weekends.
Close-up of divorce papers on a table | Source: Pexels
The first time I visited her new apartment, my heart sank. It was tiny, with barely enough room for a bed and a small easel in the corner.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t look so sad,” Mom said, pulling me into a hug. “This place may be small, but it’s full of possibilities.”
I tried to smile, but it felt forced. “Do you miss us, Mom?”
Rear view of a woman sketching a picture on a white board | Source: Pexels
Her eyes glistened. “Every day, Iva. But sometimes, we have to make hard choices to find happiness.”
As I left that day, I heard her humming as she unpacked her paints. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in years.
“I’ll see you next weekend, okay?” Mom called out as I reached the door.
I turned back, forcing a smile. “Yeah, Mom. Next weekend.”
Close-up of a woman tearing up | Source: Pexels
Dad wasted no time moving on. His new wife, Karen, was everything he wanted Mom to be — organized, practical, and completely unartistic.
“See, Iva? This is how a real household should run,” Dad said one evening, gesturing around the spotless kitchen.
I nodded absently, my eyes drawn to the near-bare walls where Mom’s paintings used to hang. “It’s… nice, Dad.”
Front angle view of a spotless kitchen | Source: Unsplash
Karen beamed. “I’ve been teaching Iva some great cleaning tips, haven’t I, dear?”
I forced a smile, thinking of the weekends spent with Mom, hands covered in paint, creating worlds on canvas. “Yeah, it’s… really useful. Thanks, Karen.”
Dad clapped his hands together. “That’s my girl. Now, who wants to watch some TV?”
As we settled in the living room, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for the messy, colorful evenings of my childhood.
Rear view of a woman painting a picture in the garden | Source: Pexels
The years rolled by, and I grew used to the new normal. Weekdays with Dad and Karen in their immaculate house and weekends with Mom in her cramped apartment. But something was always missing.
One Friday evening, as I was packing for my weekend visit, Dad knocked on my door.
“Iva, honey, can we talk?”
I looked up, surprised. “Sure, Dad. What’s up?”
A serious-looking man sitting on a chair | Source: Pexels
He sat on the edge of my bed, looking uncomfortable. “Your Mom called. She… she’s getting married again.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Married? To who?”
“Some guy named John. They’ve been dating for a while, apparently.”
I sat down hard, my mind reeling. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
Dad shrugged. “You know your mother. Always living in her own little world.”
A shocked young woman covering her face | Source: Pexels
I bristled at his tone but said nothing. As he left the room, I stared at my half-packed bag, wondering what this would mean for our weekends together.
Fast forward to last weekend. I hadn’t seen Mom in months, busy with college and work. But now, here I was, pulling up to her new house, my stomach churning with nerves.
What if this John guy was just another version of Dad?
A car parked outside a house | Source: Pexels
Mom greeted me at the door, practically glowing. “Iva! Oh, I’ve missed you!” She hugged me tight, smelling of lavender and linseed oil, a scent that instantly brought me back to childhood.
John appeared behind her, a warm smile on his face. “So this is the famous Iva! Your Mom’s told me so much about you.”
We chatted for a while, and I couldn’t help but notice how Mom seemed to stand taller and laugh easier. There was a spark in her eyes I hadn’t seen in years.
A happy senior woman smiling | Source: Pexels
“How’s college going?” Mom asked, pouring me a cup of tea.
“It’s good. Busy, but good,” I replied, watching her closely. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me about John earlier?”
She looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Oh, honey. I wanted to, but… I guess I was scared.”
“Scared? Of what?”
“That you wouldn’t approve. That you’d think I was replacing your father.”
A smiling senior woman wearing eyeglasses | Source: Pexels
I reached out and took her hand. “Mom, all I want is for you to be happy.”
She squeezed my hand, her eyes shining. “I am, Iva. I really am.”
“Iva,” John said suddenly, “there’s something I’d like to show you. Follow me.”
Curious, I followed John down a hallway. He stopped at a closed door, his hand on the knob. “Your Mom’s been working on something special,” he said, grinning. “Ready?”
He swung the door open, and as I stepped inside, my jaw dropped.
Grayscale close-up of a man’s hand on a doorknob | Source: Pexels
The room was a gallery. Mom’s gallery.
Her paintings covered every wall, beautifully framed and lit. Easels displayed works in progress, and there were even a few sculptures of porcelain dolls scattered around.
“John converted this room for me,” Mom said softly from behind me. “He calls it my ‘creativity hub’.”
I turned to her, speechless. She looked… radiant.
A young woman looking at paintings displayed on the wall | Source: Pexels
John wrapped an arm around her waist. “I organize shows here sometimes. Invite friends, family, and local art lovers. Florence’s work deserves to be seen.”
Mom blushed. “John even set up a website to sell my paintings. He handles all the business stuff so I can focus on painting and sculpting.”
I felt tears prick my eyes. “Mom, this is… amazing.”
Grayscale of a teary-eyed young woman looking up | Source: Pexels
“Your Mom’s talent is extraordinary,” John said, his voice full of pride. “I just wanted to give her a space where she could really shine.”
I walked around the room, taking in each piece. There were landscapes I recognized from our old neighborhood, portraits of people I’d never met, and abstract pieces that seemed to pulse with emotion.
“Do you remember this one?” Mom asked, pointing to a small canvas in the corner.
Close-up display of paintings and assorted artwork | Source: Pexels
I leaned in, my breath catching. It was a painting of me as a little girl, sitting at our old kitchen table, coloring. The details were perfect — my messy pigtails, the crayon smudges on my cheeks, the look of intense concentration on my face.
“You painted this?” I whispered.
Mom nodded. “It’s one of my favorites. I painted it right after… well, after the divorce. It reminded me of happier times.”
A little girl coloring on a book | Source: Pexels
I hugged her then and there, overcome with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Mom.”
As we stood there, surrounded by my Mom’s art, memories flooded back. Dad’s angry voice, Mom’s quiet sighs, the tension that had filled our house for so long.
And now, this. A room filled with light and color… and love.
A young woman embracing a senior woman | Source: Pexels
“You know,” John said, his voice gentle, “when I first met your Mom, she was so hesitant to show me her work. Can you believe that?”
Mom laughed softly. “I was scared you’d think it was silly.”
“Silly?” John looked at her like she’d hung the moon. “Flo, your art is what made me fall in love with you. It’s a part of who you are.”
A man smiling | Source: Pexels
I watched them, the way they looked at each other, the easy affection between them. This was what love was supposed to look like.
“I’m so happy for you, Mom,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes.
Mom pulled me into a hug, her arms strong and sure. “Oh, sweetie. I’m happy too. Happier than I’ve been in a long, long time.”
Close-up of a happy senior couple holding flowers | Source: Pexels
As we stood there, surrounded by canvases bursting with color and life, I realized something profound. Mom’s art, once stifled and undervalued, was now flourishing, and so was she. And I knew, without a doubt, that she had found her true love.
“So,” John said, clapping his hands together. “Who’s hungry? I was thinking we could grill out on the patio.”
Mom’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds wonderful! Iva, will you stay for dinner?”
A cheerful senior woman smiling | Source: Pexels
I looked at them both, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “I’d love to,” I said, smiling. “I’d really love to.”
As we walked out of the gallery, I took one last look around. The room was more than just a showcase for Mom’s talent. It was a testament to the power of love… real love… to nurture and uplift.
And as I followed Mom and John to the kitchen, laughing at some joke he’d made, I felt truly at home for the first time in years.
A gallery of paintings | Source: Unsplash
I Have to Raise Someone Else’s Child While Her Mom Is Having Fun at Parties – Story of the Day
I fell in love with a pregnant woman and promised to help her raise the baby, but she decided to have fun and avoid her responsibilities. She abandoned me only to return years later to do something unspeakable.
I met Molly at college. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but she never gave me the time of day. Molly would often hang out with the most popular men, usually on the school’s football team, but we became close friends.
She was cheerful and a great student. It was just amazing to have a friend like that, even if my feelings would always be unrequited. Eventually, she started dating Tanner, the captain of the team. He wasn’t a typical mean jock, but I always thought she could do better.
Molly didn’t know she was pregnant. | Source: Shutterstock
A few months afterward, Molly came to my house crying. Tanner had dumped her and started dating another girl almost immediately. I comforted her as best I could, but she had really loved him. About a month after that, she discovered something life-changing.
“Mark, I’m pregnant,” she told me.
“What?” I exhaled. I couldn’t believe it. “Did you tell Tanner already?”
“Yes. He doesn’t want anything to do with the baby. He told me to get rid of it because he’s not going to be a father now,” Molly replied.
Molly discovered she was pregnant. | Source: Pexels
“What an idiot! I can’t believe he would evade his responsibilities like that! What are you going to do?” I questioned.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to get rid of it, but I’m in college. I can’t be a single mom. My parents are going to kill me,” she cried.
“I’ll step up. We can get married, and I’ll help you raise the baby. You won’t be alone,” I suggested without thinking about it twice.
“I can’t ask you to do that. I’m sorry, Mark. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way about you,” Molly said apologetically.
I stepped up. | Source: Pexels
“Don’t worry. It’s not about that. We’ll get married so that no one will look down on you, and you won’t be a single mother,” I continued. It sounded crazy even to me, but I couldn’t let Molly go through this alone.
“Are you sure? That’s a lot to ask of a friend,” Molly whispered, still hesitant about this insane idea. I assured her I was serious, and we went down to the courthouse later that week. Two of our friends served as witnesses, and it was a short affair.
I helped Molly get through this pregnancy as best I could. It was difficult as we were both college students, but we would make it work together. I grew more excited every day, thinking of becoming a father.
I adored Amelia. | Source: Pexels
But Molly was not that enthusiastic. I could tell that she missed being able to go out with her friends and enjoying regular college life. But as a mother, she had to sacrifice a lot. Eventually, Amelia was born, and she was the most beautiful baby in the world.
I adored her immediately and became her dad. Molly loved Amelia as well and settled into being a mother better than I expected. We became a wonderful little family, and no one suspected that Amelia was not mine because she looked exactly like her mother.
But Molly grew less and less excited. When Amelia was five years old, Molly broke down after putting her to bed. “I can’t do this anymore. I lost everything!” she cried.
Molly packed her bags and left. | Source: Pexels
“What are you talking about?” I asked her.
“I lost my entire youth. I shouldn’t have had a kid at all!” Molly continued.
“Molly, please. Amelia might hear you. She’s in the next room!” I said, raising my voice only a bit.
“I don’t care. I want out of this. I’m filing for divorce, and I don’t want to see any of you again,” she said, shocking me to my core. I asked her to stop and think about this, but Molly had already packed her bags and left us forever.
Amelia missed her mother. | Source: Pexels
I went to Amelia’s room only to discover that our daughter had heard the entire commotion. “Mommy left?” she cried.
“Baby, your mother is going through something right now and needs some time away. She’ll be back soon,” I assured her.
Unfortunately, Molly did not return, and I became a single father. It was harder than I ever expected, and Amelia would cry almost every single night for a year afterward. But soon enough, we both got used to being on our own. My daughter was the light of my life, and I would do anything to get us through.
I did my best raising Amelia as a single father. | Source: Pexels
Molly did not call once but would update her social media often. She had the college life she had missed all this time. It was one party after another with her old college sorority friends. I felt awful seeing those pictures.
How could she abandon her child to go out and have fun? It was unforgivable. Several years after her abandonment, I saw that she and Tanner had gotten back together, which only hurt worse. This was the guy who dumped her at her most vulnerable and didn’t want to step up for his baby.
I couldn’t do anything about it except move on, but Molly decided to come back into our lives just when we were doing so well. “What do you mean you want Amelia back?” I asked when Molly showed up at my house unexpectedly.
Molly returned and threatened to take me to court. | Source: Pexels
“Molly is my daughter, and I want her to live with me. Tanner is finally ready to meet her. She’s her father,” she said nonchalantly.
“Tanner is not her father. I’m her father. I raised her all these years, especially when you abandoned her,” I said with disdain in my voice.
“Mark, don’t do this. I will take you to court for custody if I have to. That’s my child. Tanner and I are engaged. She is going to be so happy with her real family at last,” Molly continued.
We went to trial. | Source: Pexels
“I’ll see you in court then,” I replied and threw Molly out of my house. Amelia was almost a teenager by then and saw how worried I was. My lawyers advised me to settle things out of court because most judges side with the mother.
But how could a judge side with Molly after her abandonment? My name was on Amelia’s birth certificate, and I saw her grow up. I was her only father. Molly’s lawyers were fierce, and our battle was harsh. But Amelia’s testimony sealed the deal.
“I only have one father,” she said, pointing at me. “My mother left many years ago after saying she regretted me. I don’t want to live with her.”
Nothing would ever separate my daughter and I. | Source: Pexels
Luckily, the judge listened to my little girl, although my lawyers didn’t think it would happen. He gave me full custody, while Molly got visitation on the weekends. I encouraged Amelia to forgive her mother and build a relationship with her, which they did.
But she told me every day that I was the best father anyone could ever have.
What can we learn from this story?
- Appreciate what you have. Molly threw her family away and discovered later in life that she couldn’t exactly get it back.
- Some responsibilities require sacrifices. Getting pregnant at a young age is a big deal, which means that you might have to give up partying and other youthful shenanigans.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who abandoned her daughter to travel the world and have a fun time.
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