For weeks, I stayed up late, watching camera footage and setting traps, determined to catch the person stealing from my small grocery store. But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I finally caught them—a truth that had been hidden from me for long years.
At my age, most people were thinking about retirement, buying a little house in Florida, or taking long vacations. But not me.
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I was thinking about how to make my store better. When you owned a business, especially a small grocery store like mine, there was no such thing as rest. I had run this store for many years.
Over time, new shops had opened nearby, and competition had grown, but I never gave up.
I worked hard to make my store more than just a place to buy food. I wanted people to feel welcome, like they were visiting an old friend.
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Some of my customers had been coming for twenty or even thirty years. I watched them grow up, fall in love, and start families.
Then their kids started coming in—and that meant the world to me. It meant I had done something right.
But recently, something felt off. I started noticing little things missing from the shelves.
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Not just one or two items, but enough to make me wonder. I stocked everything myself, so I knew what was there. Something was definitely wrong.
Mr. Green came up to the register with a small basket in his hand. He gave me a friendly smile. “How are you doing today, Margaret?” he asked.
“I’m doing fine, thank you. How about you?” I said with a smile.
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“I’m good,” he said. “But I noticed something. There’s not much dairy on the shelves. You usually have the best selection in town.”
I looked at him, surprised. “That can’t be right. I filled the whole section just yesterday. Every last shelf.”
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe you missed something. Or maybe it’s time to slow down. You ever think about handing the store over to someone else? Do you have kids?”
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His words hit me hard. I froze for a moment, then looked straight at him. I didn’t smile this time. “Goodbye, Mr. Green,” I said firmly. I bagged his items and handed them to him without another word.
As if! I still had plenty of strength. Mr. Green acted like I was ready for a rocking chair and soft food. I was not even sixty yet!
I worked hard every day, lifting boxes, sweeping floors, and dealing with customers. But his words touched a spot deep inside me. A place I tried to keep buried.
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Children.
I had a daughter once. Just one. She ran away from home fifteen years ago. No phone call. No goodbye. Just a note.
She said she was leaving to start a new life. I searched for her everywhere. I called the police, but they said she left on her own, so it was not their job.
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That made me so angry. She was my child. She was still so young. How could they not help?
I shook my head and forced myself back to the present. I walked to the dairy fridge. It was still early, and hardly anyone had come in yet.
But I saw the truth with my own eyes—many items were missing. Yogurt, milk, cheese—whole rows gone.
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It was not just forgetfulness or bad math. Someone was stealing from me.
I always trusted people. That was why I never installed cameras. I believed people were good. I believed they would do the right thing. But now, I had no choice.
The next day, I had cameras installed. It cost me a good bit, but I had to protect my store. The day after that, I sat at the back counter and watched the footage.
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At first, it looked normal. The store was dark and still. But then, a figure appeared. They moved quickly and quietly, taking things off the shelves.
They wore a hood pulled low over their face. I clicked through the video, hoping to see a face, but I never did. Somehow, they stayed hidden.
Still, I knew I had to do something. I put the footage on a flash drive and drove to the police station.
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I walked up to the front desk and told the officer on duty what had happened.
He led me to a small room and plugged in the footage. He watched the screen with a bored look on his face.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “what do you want from us?”
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I stared at him. “What do I want? I want you to do your job. Someone is breaking into my store and stealing my products. I want you to find out who it is.”
He pointed at the screen. “You can’t even see their face. They’re wearing a hood the whole time. We don’t have anything to go on.”
I felt my hands tighten. “But that’s your job!”
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“My advice? Get an alarm system,” the officer said.
I scoffed, grabbed the footage, and walked out of the station. As if! Giving me advice like I was some lost old lady.
But still, I went ahead and had the alarm system installed. I did not want to take any more chances.
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For a few days, things seemed better. Nothing went missing. The shelves stayed full. I started to breathe easier.
Then, one morning, I walked in and froze. Again, shelves were empty. Not everything, but enough to notice. Yet the alarm had not gone off. My stomach turned.
As I stood by the fridge, Mr. Green walked by with a little shake of his head. “Your selection keeps getting smaller and smaller,” he said. “Maybe my wife and I should start going to another store.”
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Those words stung. My heart pounded. I could not lose customers. This store was my life. It paid my bills and kept a roof over my head.
If I could not stop this thief, I could lose everything. If no one would help me, then I would help myself.
That night, I closed the shop like always, turned off the lights, and walked out the front door.
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But I did not go home. I circled around to the back, unlocked the rear door, and slipped inside. I crouched behind the counter and waited.
It was quiet. Too quiet. I almost dozed off, but then I heard it—the door creaked, and the alarm beeped off.
My heart jumped. I peeked up and saw the same figure moving around the aisles.
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Small, quick, quiet. I crept forward. Step by step. Then I lunged and grabbed the hoodie.
“Got you!” I yelled.
The person dropped everything and struggled. I pulled back the hood. He was just a boy. Fourteen, maybe. Thin. Scared. His eyes locked with mine.
He had her eyes.
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“Who are you? Why are you stealing from me?” I asked.
He did not answer. He pulled down the zipper, slipped out of the hoodie, and ran. I tried to follow but could not. I stood there, breathing hard, holding the hoodie in my hands.
Those eyes. I knew them. They belonged to my daughter. How was that possible? Could he be…?
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After I caught the boy red-handed, the thefts stopped completely, but I could not stop thinking about him.
Every time I looked at the shelves or walked through the store, my mind went back to that night. I kept seeing his face, those eyes that reminded me so much of my daughter.
I felt torn. He was just a child, and part of me wanted to go to the police, but the other part needed to know who he was and why he looked so familiar.
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One evening, as I was driving home from work, I saw a figure in a hoodie coming out of a closed store.
My heart skipped a beat. Was it him? I watched as he walked over to a bicycle, took some groceries out of his hoodie, and put them into a backpack.
He kept his hood up the whole time. I stayed in my car and decided to follow him. I knew if I tried to talk to him, he would run again.
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I kept a safe distance as he rode through the streets. After a while, he stopped near a small but tidy house.
He parked his bicycle behind it and went inside. I sat for a moment, holding the same hoodie he had left behind in my store.
My hands were shaking as I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I knocked softly. No one came. I waited. I was about to leave when I heard footsteps approaching.
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Then the door opened.
And there she was—my daughter. I froze. She looked older, tired maybe, but it was her. My heart almost stopped.
She was no longer the girl who had run away from me. She was a grown woman now, standing in the doorway, staring at me in shock.
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“Alice…” I whispered, my voice barely coming out. My hands were still shaking.
She blinked like she was seeing a ghost. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
I looked into her eyes. They were the same, even after all these years. “So you were nearby all this time, and I couldn’t find you.”
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She looked down. “Not the whole time. I moved around a lot. That’s not important now. Why are you here? How did you find me?”
I didn’t answer right away. I reached into my bag and held up the boy’s hoodie.
Her eyes widened. “Where did you get Travis’s hoodie?”
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Before I could speak, the boy—the same one who stole from my store—appeared in the hallway.
“Mom! Close the door!” he shouted, his voice full of fear.
Alice turned to him. “What? What’s going on?”
I stepped forward. “Travis was stealing from my store.”
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“WHAT?!” she shouted. Her face turned red with shock.
“Please don’t call the police,” Travis said, his voice shaking. “I promise I won’t steal from your store again.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But I saw you today. You were stealing from another store.”
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Alice turned to him, her voice sharp. “Travis, what is this? Why would you steal?”
He looked down at the floor. “Because you work so much. We never have enough money. I wanted to help.”
“So you thought stealing was the answer?” she shouted.
“I sold the stuff. I gave you the money in secret. I thought I was helping,” he said.
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Alice covered her face with her hands. “That is not how we solve problems. Stealing is wrong, Travis. Always.”
She looked at me. Her voice was quieter now. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll handle it. He won’t do it again. Please don’t turn him in to the police.”
She reached for the door, but I held it.
“That’s it?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you in fifteen years, and you have nothing more to say? Who is Travis? Is he your son?”
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Alice nodded. Tears filled her eyes. “Yes. He’s my son.”
“May I come in?” I asked, almost in a whisper.
She paused. Then she stepped aside and let me in.
She led me to a small kitchen. I sat down and looked around. It was neat but worn.
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“If you were having money problems, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you ask for help?” I asked.
“Because I was ashamed,” she said.
“I searched for you. I waited fifteen years. I didn’t know you even had a child,” I said.
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“I was already pregnant when I left. That was one of the reasons. You told me to stay away from Travis’s father. You were right. He was no good. But I didn’t listen. He left me soon after,” Alice said.
“Then why didn’t you come home?”
“Because I was ashamed. I thought you hated me.”
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“Oh, Alice,” I said, standing and walking to her. “You’re my daughter. How could I ever hate you?”
I gently wrapped my arms around her, and she held me just as tight. We both cried without saying a word.
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All the pain from the past seemed to melt in that moment. It felt like coming home after being lost for years.
After we calmed down, Alice turned to Travis and scolded him firmly. She made it clear that stealing was never the answer. He nodded, ashamed.
Still, I looked at him with something close to gratitude. I kept thanking him in my heart. If he had not taken from me, I would never have found my family again.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Feeling unappreciated and exhausted, I decided to take a break from my marriage and clear my head. But when my car broke down miles from home, I found myself stranded at a small motel. What started as a simple getaway soon led to an unexpected reunion — one that changed everything. Read the full story here.
This GIrl Left Her Family at 14 to Pursue Music in Another Country — Now She’s World-Famous with Guinness Records
This young girl was born into a large, ethnically Albanian family. Her parents moved to London from Albania three years before she was born. She grew up in London for much of her formative years.
However, when she turned 11, her parents told her they would no longer live in London. Instead, they were moving back to their native country. It was the end of primary school for the girl, and all her friends were also going to different schools, but none were in a foreign country.
Despite the significant change, the girl was excited to go to Kosovo and see her cousins who lived there. However, three years later, at 14, she told her parents she didn’t want to live there anymore. She moved away and went on to break Guinness World Records.
The Girl’s Childhood
The girl was born to a Bosnian mother and a Kosovan father. In the 90s, her parents experienced war in their home country. Her mother and father were living with her paternal grandfather, the head of the Kosovo Institute of History.
Although the girl’s grandfather took pride in his career, it ended when the war broke out. She shared:
“Once the Serbians came in, they wanted a lot of the historians to rewrite the history of Kosovo. To change it – that Kosovo was always part of Serbia and never part of Yugoslavia. And my grandfather was one of those people who wouldn’t, so he lost his job because he didn’t want to write a history that he didn’t believe to be true.”
In 1992, the girl’s parents moved from Albania to London to seek refuge from the war. However, their parents stayed behind in Bosnia and Kosovo. The girl’s father never got to say goodbye to his father as he died of a heart attack the year the war ended when the borders were still closed. Despite all the heartache the couple had experienced, they welcomed their daughter in northwest London in 1995.
The girl said that she watched her parents work every day of her life. Her father was working toward becoming a dentist and her mother a lawyer when they were forced to flee their home country. Being in London forced them to take jobs in cafés and bars. They also went back to school.
Although she was proud of her parents growing up, the girl was not always proud of her name, which means “love” in Albanian. Although she is proud of it now, she wanted a more common name growing up. Her name made her feel different from everyone else.
Another thing that embarrassed her growing up was the fact that her parents looked different from others. In school, the boys would tell her how attractive her mother was, and the girls would say the same about her father, which she didn’t enjoy.
As a young girl, she was strong-willed and ambitious. She knew she wanted to be a star and figured she wouldn’t be able to make it happen living in Kosovo.
One day, she sat her parents down and told them she wanted to return to London. She explained that she wanted to be a superstar and knew she would never be able to do it without being in a city like London. She planned to go to the Sylvia Young Theatre School on Saturdays and wanted to be where a lot was happening. She admitted:
“I didn’t think I’d be able to do this on a global scale, living in Kosovo.”
She tricked her parents into letting her go by telling them she wanted to attend an excellent British university and said she would need to do her GCSEs and A-levels in English to get there.
Her parents relented, and when she got back to London, she went to the Sylvia Young Theatre School and began recording demo tapes, which she uploaded to YouTube and Soundcloud.
Although she could have run wild in London without much parental supervision, the girl knew that her parents trusted her, and she needed to uphold her end of the deal. The only parental supervision she had was from the family friends she was staying with while in London. She joked that she was the mom of her friend group and always responsible.
With this responsibility came ambition. The girl knew she wanted to be a star and started contacting producers. When one offered a publishing deal, she found a lawyer who told her not to accept it. He then found her her current manager, leading to her being discovered.
Her love for music, singing, and dancing started when she was very young, putting on performances for her friends and family all the time. She knew she had a natural talent when her singing teacher in London moved her into a class with teenagers when she was nine.
The first concert she attended in Kosovo was Redman and Method Man, as hip-hop was massive in Kosovo then. She also wished to see performers like Nelly Furtado and Pink in her hometown, but they had yet to come.
When she finally became successful, she returned to Kosovo with the Sunny Hill Festival, which brings international artists to Kosovo. She hopes that this festival is something that the people in her hometown can enjoy for many years.
Her younger brother and sister are also interested in the entertainment industry. Her little sister graduated from drama school, and her brother started producing music when he was seventeen. The girl is incredibly proud of her family, especially her parents. She once gushed:
“Everything I speak about comes from my upbringing. Seeing my parents adapt to any situation, raise a family, work many jobs, go to university in the evening… I watched them sacrifice, yet I understand how lucky I am to have a British passport and to have come back to London for my career.”
Her parents’ relationship also challenged the girl because, as she told it, her mother married her first love and first boyfriend. She felt pressure and thought that people saw something was wrong with her because she was single in her mid-20s.
However, she realized that it’s okay to be selfish and work on yourself before getting into a serious relationship and certainly before bringing any children into the world.
Who Is the Girl?
Dua Lipa is the girl with the name she couldn’t stand when she was a little girl. Despite all the adversity she faced growing up, she has now become a world-famous pop star and has broken many records.
In March last year, her song “Levitating” became the longest-charting Billboard Hot 100 hit ever. Her 2020 Thanksgiving weekend Studio 2054 livestream also broke records, amassing over 5 million views, and breaking the Guinness World Record for most tickets sold for a live-streamed concert by a solo female artist. She enjoyed the experience so much that even when she was allowed to tour, she would livestream again.
In 2021, she also became the most listened-to female artist on Spotify, for which she landed another Guinness World Record. However, she remains humble and does not take too much note of the awards she has won, even though she has been nominated for 10 Grammys and has won three.
Lipa’s professional life is going well, and her personal life is on the up, too. She recently gained Albanian citizenship. A video shows her signing the papers and beaming from ear to ear as she is granted citizenship.
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