Grief plays tricks on the mind, but this? This was real. Kelly knew her husband’s voice, and she’d just heard it… coming from her daughter’s room. A chill ran down her spine. Jeremy had been dead for two years. So who — or what — was speaking in his voice? Then she stepped inside… and FROZE.
I’m Kelly. I’m 30, and my life has been a rollercoaster of love and loss. My husband, Jeremy, died in a car accident two years ago. I was eight months pregnant with our daughter, Sophia. One moment, I was painting flowers on the walls of her nursery, dreaming about our future. The next, I was getting a phone call that shattered my world.
A pregnant woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels
I remember that moment like it was yesterday. The paintbrush slipped from my fingers, leaving a trail of pink down the wall.
“Miss Kelly?” the voice on the phone was gentle, practiced. “This is Officer Reynolds…”
“Yes?” My hand instinctively went to my swollen belly. Sophia kicked, as if sensing my fear.
“There’s been an accident. Your husband…”
“No,” I whispered. “No, please…”
A startled woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
They told me the crash was bad — so bad that I shouldn’t see his body. I never got to say goodbye. Just a closed casket at the funeral, and that was it.
“Kelly, honey,” my mom had said at the funeral, holding me as I sobbed. “You need to stay strong. For the baby.”
“How?” I choked out. “How am I supposed to do this without him? He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to hold her…”
Men carrying a coffin | Source: Pexels
Two years later, I was doing my best to keep going, to be strong for Sophia. But the emptiness? It never really left.
And then, two days ago, something happened that made me question everything.
It was just a regular afternoon. I had put Sophia down for her nap in her bedroom and curled up on the couch with a book. The house was quiet. Peaceful.
Until I heard it.
The sound of a window shutting. Not loud — just enough to make me glance up. Probably the wind, I thought. But then, my blood ran cold when I… Oh my God… when I heard JEREMY’S VOICE:
“I love you forever.”
I swear to God, my whole body turned to ice.
It wasn’t a muffled memory in my head. It wasn’t wishful thinking. It was CLEAR AS DAY.
A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney
I sat frozen, my breath caught in my throat. My ears were ringing. My heart pounded so hard I thought I might pass out.
“Jeremy?” I whispered into the silence, my voice trembling. “Baby, is that you?”
No. No, no, no. Jeremy was gone. This was NOT POSSIBLE.
But I heard it. Again.
“I love you forever.”
It was coming from Sophia’s room.
A frantic woman standing at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
I shot up so fast the book tumbled off my lap. My mind raced with possibilities — was someone in there? Was I hallucinating?
Was Jeremy ALIVE?
I rushed down the hallway, barely feeling my feet hit the floor. My hands were ice-cold, and my stomach churned like I might throw up.
“Please,” I whispered as I ran, tears already forming. “Please, if you’re there…”
I pushed open Sophia’s door.
A terrified woman walking into a room | Source: Midjourney
She was sound asleep in her crib, curled up in a little ball, her tiny fingers clutching a teddy bear. The room was just as I had left it. No open windows. No shadows in the corner. Nothing.
But then, I heard it again.
“I love you forever.”
I swore my heart stopped.
“Jeremy?” My voice cracked. “Is this some kind of cruel joke? Please… I can’t… I can’t take this…”
I scanned the room, my hands shaking as I moved toward the window. Something had to explain this.
A little girl fast asleep while holding a teddy bear | Source: Midjourney
My fingers brushed against the glass. It was shut. Locked. Outside, a small tree branch rested against the pane, broken like it had fallen against it.
Okay. That explained the noise. But Jeremy’s voice?
My eyes darted back to Sophia. She stirred in her sleep, hugging the bear tighter.
“Dada,” she murmured in her sleep, and my heart shattered all over again.
And then it hit me.
The bear.
I dropped to my knees beside her crib, hands trembling as I reached for it. Pressed it.
“I love you forever.”
My chest squeezed so tight I thought I might collapse.
A startled woman holding a teddy bear | Source: Midjourney
Jeremy’s voice… It was coming from the bear.
“Oh God,” I sobbed, clutching the bear to my chest. “Oh God, Jeremy…”
I sat on the couch, staring at the bear like it might come to life.
I had no memory of buying this. Had someone given it to Sophia?
And then I remembered. A week ago, we had celebrated Sophia’s second birthday. My mother-in-law, Gloria, had given her this bear.
A little girl celebrating her 2nd birthday | Source: Pexels
“Look what Grandma got you!” I had said, trying to sound cheerful despite the ache in my chest. Another birthday without Jeremy.
I had barely looked at it at the time. It was just another stuffed animal.
But now? Now I needed answers. So I called Gloria.
She picked up on the second ring. “Kelly, hi, sweetie! Everything okay?”
An older woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the bear tighter. “Did you know this thing plays Jeremy’s voice?”
Silence.
Then, a quiet, almost hesitant, “Oh… did it finally play?”
My stomach twisted. “Finally? What do you mean FINALLY?”
Gloria sighed. “I was wondering when you’d hear it.”
I sat up straighter. “Gloria. What did you do?”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Kelly, please,” her voice wavered. “Just let me explain…”
“Explain what?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Explain why you thought it was okay to… to…”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Gloria showed up an hour later, looking almost nervous. She sat across from me, hands folded, eyes scanning my face.
“I just… I thought it would help,” she said softly.
I placed the bear between us. “Help who?”
Two women talking to each other | Source: Midjourney
She exhaled. “Sophia. And you.”
I stared at her.
“Kelly,” she reached across the table, taking my hand. “Every time Sophia asks about her daddy… every time I see you trying to explain… it breaks my heart.”
“And you don’t think this breaks mine?” My voice cracked. “To hear his voice again, out of nowhere?”
Gloria swallowed. “After Jeremy died, I kept thinking about how Sophia would never know her dad’s voice. So I took a recording from your wedding video. You remember his vows?”
My throat closed.
“‘I love you forever,’” she whispered.
Oh my God.
A woman overwhelmed with emotions | Source: Midjourney
“I remember,” I choked out. “He… he practiced those vows for weeks. Said he had to get them perfect…”
She clasped her hands together. “I had it sewn into the bear before her birthday. I wanted her to have a piece of him. To know he’s always with her.”
I blinked hard, staring at the table, my mind spinning.
She had meant well. I knew that. But I felt so blindsided.
“Gloria,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You should have told me.”
“I know,” she admitted with a fragile smile. “I just… I didn’t want to upset you.”
An older woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Upset me?” I laughed bitterly. “I thought I was going crazy. I thought… for a moment, I thought he was…”
“Alive?” Gloria finished softly. “Oh, sweetheart…”
She moved around the table, pulling me into her arms as I broke down.
“I miss him so much,” I sobbed. “Every single day…”
“I know,” she stroked my hair. “He would be so proud of you, Kelly. So proud of how you’re raising Sophia.”
I didn’t know what to say.
I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t relieved. I was just… overwhelmed.
A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
That night, I sat in Sophia’s room, watching her sleep. The bear was in my lap. My fingers traced the soft fabric as I stared at my little girl — the daughter Jeremy never got to meet.
She looked so much like him. The same curve to her nose, the same dimple when she smiled, and the same sparkling blue eyes.
“You would have loved her so much,” I whispered into the darkness. “She’s perfect, Jeremy. Just perfect.”
I pressed the bear one last time as a familiar voice filled the room and my heart:
“I love you forever.”
A lump formed in my throat. I wiped my eyes quickly, swallowing down the ache.
I missed him.
A heartbroken woman holding a teddy bear | Source: Midjourney
Sophia stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Mama?”
“Hey, baby girl,” I whispered, reaching to stroke her cheek.
“Bear?” She reached for the teddy.
I handed it to her, watching as she pressed it to her chest. Jeremy’s voice filled the room again.
“That’s your daddy,” I told her, my voice thick with tears. “He loves you so, so much.”
A cheerful little girl holding a teddy bear | Source: Midjourney
“Dada?” She looked at the bear with wide eyes, then back at me.
“Yes, sweetheart. That’s Dada.”
She hugged the bear tighter, closing her eyes. “Love Dada.”
And for so long, I thought I had lost everything. But here, in my daughter’s arms, was a piece of him.
I leaned down and kissed Sophia’s forehead.
“You’ll always have him with you, my sweet girl,” I whispered. “Always.”
The grief was still there. It always would be.
But for the first time in a long, long time… I didn’t feel so alone.
A grieving woman holding herself together | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday
I always knew my stepmom, Monica, wasn’t exactly the nicest person—annoying, yes, but not evil. She was the type who would talk over me, forget my birthday, and call me “kiddo” even though I was practically an adult.
But what she did on my 17th birthday? It was the final straw.
It all started after my mom, Sarah, passed away when I was ten. After that, it was just me and Dad. We were a team—movie nights, pizza dinners, and a mutual understanding that we had each other’s backs, always.
Then Monica came along about three years ago. She wasn’t the worst, just kind of… there. She moved in, slowly took over the bathroom with her endless beauty products, and managed to inch her way into Dad’s life, whether I liked it or not.
Monica had dreams—big dreams—of opening a hair salon. I didn’t have a problem with people having dreams, but I had my own, too, and she treated me like I was an inconvenience that came with the house.
But I had a plan. College was my way out, and Dad had promised me from the time I was little that there was a college fund waiting for me. “Your mom and I set it up when you were five, Lila,” he’d say. “It’s all there, and I add to it every year.”
So, I worked hard in school, counting down the days until I could leave for college and start a life of my own.
On the morning of my 17th birthday, I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe some pancakes, a card—Dad was at work, so it was just Monica and me. But when Monica handed me a gift bag, things took a weird turn.
Inside the bag was a pink funerary urn. Yes, you read that right. An urn.
I stared at it, completely confused. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, a smug look on her face. “It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.
“Symbolic of what?” I asked, already feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach.
Monica smiled wider. “It’s time to bury your college dreams, kiddo. Your dad and I decided to put that fund to better use.”
“Better use?” I repeated, my heart racing.
“Yep. We used it to help me open my salon. College is a gamble, Lila. But a business? That’s a real investment.”
I was frozen. Had they really taken my future, my college fund, and sunk it into Monica’s dream? How could my dad have let this happen?
“Life’s full of disappointments,” she added, as if that was supposed to be comforting.
I ran upstairs and slammed my door, sobbing harder than I ever had. Everything I’d worked for, everything my mom had wanted for me, was gone.
For the next few days, I barely spoke to either of them. Monica pranced around like she owned the house while I sat with the urn on my desk, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.
Then, a few days later, something strange happened.
When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk in Monica’s messy handwriting: Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me.
I almost laughed. Trust her? After what she did?
But my curiosity got the better of me, and against my better judgment, I went.
When I arrived at the salon, the lights were off, but the door was unlocked. Hesitant, I stepped inside. There, in the middle of the room, were Monica and my dad, both grinning.
“Surprise!” Monica shouted.
I was speechless.
“Look,” Monica said, stepping aside to reveal a shiny new sign on the wall: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah.
“What is this?” I asked, completely lost.
Monica’s smile softened. “We didn’t use your college fund, Lila. It’s all still there. The salon isn’t just for me—it’s for you, too. And for others like you. A portion of the profits will go toward funding scholarships in your mom’s name.”
I blinked, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath my feet.
“But… why make me think otherwise?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
Monica winced. “Yeah, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it would be motivational, like burying the past and embracing the future. Turns out, it was just creepy.”
Dad stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been planning this for months. Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This way, her dream lives on.”
I stood there, stunned, my anger melting into something softer.
Monica looked at me earnestly. “I’m not trying to replace your mom, Lila. I just want to build something meaningful, something that helps you and others. I know I haven’t been the best stepmom, but I hope this can be a fresh start.”
For the first time in a long time, I smiled.
It wasn’t perfect, and maybe things with Monica never would be. But in that moment, standing in a salon named for my mom, I realized she wasn’t trying to destroy my future—she was trying to honor it in a way I hadn’t expected.
And yeah, I kept the urn. I planted peace lilies in it. Maybe it wasn’t the symbol Monica had intended, but it had become something new. A symbol of hope.
What would you have done in my shoes?
Leave a Reply