The nurse examined Lucy’s twins before discharge, but Lucy was shocked when she returned them. The nurse had brought two baby girls after the examination, and Lucy had given birth to one boy and one girl.
Lucy and her husband Ross had been trying to conceive for a long time, and when they discovered they were expecting twins, they were over the moon.
The ultrasound had revealed they would be having a boy and a girl, and the couple was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the twins. However, when the nurse brought the children post-examination, they were both girls. Lucy’s face turned pale.
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“Where has my son gone? What exactly did you do to him? And whose baby is this other girl?” she screamed, gazing at the nurse who had just brought the kids in.
“They are your daughters, ma’am,” the nurse, Savannah, said, her eyes fixated on the documents. “I double-checked the reports and I’m confident there is no error.”
“Have you lost your senses?” Lucy snapped. “I have all the reports with me as proof that I was supposed to deliver a boy and a girl. And I was informed about the same after delivery. There’s no way they’re both girls!”
Lucy noticed the fear in the nurse’s eyes when she looked up from her reports. She was about to say something to her when Dr. Linda Carter walked in. “Would you please keep quiet, ma’am? This is a hospital, and there are other patients,” she explained to Lucy.
“Quiet? Seriously?” Lucy glared at her. “Your nurse brings me a random child, then tells me she’s not wrong! Is that how your hospital administration operates? Should I contact the chief doctor and inform him of the situation?”
“I agree with my wife, doctor. We don’t want to create a scene either,” Ross intervened. “But your nurse is lying. We don’t know why she’s doing that, but if we don’t get our son back, we’ll have to call the police!”
“Please, sir, calm down,” Dr. Carter said. “I’m sure there’s just some misunderstanding. Savannah has been working at this hospital for several years. Perhaps she brought the wrong documents. Savannah, may I have a look at the papers?” Dr. Carter inquired. But Savannah didn’t give it to her and instead started stammering, “There’s no need, ma’am…I mean, I checked it, and they’re fine.”
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Dr. Carter sensed something was wrong and softly told her, “It’s fine. Let me quickly check the reports.” However, when she read through them, she realized Lucy was correct.
“Please give me a minute, ma’am,” she said as she flipped through the pages. “I assume Savannah brought the incorrect paperwork. There was another patient named Lucy Matthews, and Savannah got confused.”
“I’m glad you noticed your mistake,” Lucy said, glaring at her. “I would recommend that you hire responsible people as members of the staff the next time!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Dr. Carter apologized again as she turned to face Savannah. “Would you mind accompanying me, Savannah? I need you to find the correct reports for me.”
Savannah swiftly followed Dr. Carter, but Lucy spotted the tears in her eyes as she walked away. She got a strange feeling Dr. Carter and Savannah were up to something, so she decided to follow them.
She watched them both enter Dr. Carter’s clinic and then heard someone crying. It had to be Savannah, she reasoned. Fortunately, the door was slightly ajar, so Lucy sat on one of the chairs just outside the room and listened to what they were saying.
“What were you thinking, Savannah?” Dr. Carter spoke in a firm tone. “Lucy Matthews delivered twins: a boy and a girl at 10:30 a.m. today. Even the reports said that. Why are you lying to them? Be honest!”
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“I didn’t have a choice, ma’am,” Savannah sobbed. “That other newborn girl belongs to my sister. Her spouse had abandoned her after he learned about the pregnancy, and unfortunately, she didn’t make it post-delivery. I could have adopted her, but my husband refused.”
“Why don’t you place her in a nursing home?” Dr. Carter proposed. “She’d be well taken care of there.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, ma’am. It was my sister’s last wish for her daughter to grow up in a loving home,” Savannah sobbed.
“When I saw Mrs. Matthews this morning and how she and her husband were supporting each other, I thought they would be a beautiful family for her. So I decided to swap Mrs. Matthew’s son with my sister’s daughter and place him in a nursing home instead.”
“But that’s not right, Savannah,” Dr. Carter pointed out. “We can’t let that happen. Get Mrs. Matthews’ son right now. And, yes, this should stay confidential between us. Let me see what I can do for you.”
Lucy’s eyes had welled up when she heard the story. There wasn’t a nefarious intention behind exchanging the kids. A helpless woman wanted her niece to end up in a lovely family. I feel sorry for the child, honestly. Lucy pondered as she returned to her room.
A few minutes later, Dr. Carter returned to Lucy’s room and handed over her newborn son. “Sorry about the mixup, ma’am. I apologize on behalf of my staff,” Dr. Carter said.
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Having overheard the whole story earlier, Lucy, decided not to file a complaint against her. But every time she tried to sleep at home that night, her thoughts returned to the poor child, and her innocent face flashed straight in front of her eyes.
“I can’t forget about her, Ross,” Lucy told her husband at breakfast the next day. “I had a dream yesterday in which I saw a girl who had come to our house by mistake and was living peacefully with us. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t get that out of my head.”
“It’s because of what happened yesterday, honey,” Ross explained. “Try to distract yourself with something else. How about we go somewhere? You’ll feel better.”
“No, Ross,” Lucy looked at him. “I don’t feel like leaving that child alone. I want to adopt her.”
“But honey!” Ross cried. “Are you sure? We already have two children to look after, and a third would be far too much! Don’t make emotional decisions! We need to be practical.”
“I understand, Ross, but please. I can’t persuade myself. I pondered it all night and decided to adopt her. Can we please go to the hospital today?”
“Well, honey. I am there with you in all your decisions, but I’m worried it’ll be too much work for you.”
“I can manage that, Ross. Please?” Lucy insisted.
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Ross initially opposed the adoption, but his feelings changed when he held the child in his arms. She had brown eyes with a slight green tinge, and she kept staring at him. Ross was moved by her innocent looks, to say the least.
“I’m delighted you considered adopting her, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. She is indeed lucky,” the doctor told them.
“Well, doctor, we tried a lot for kids, and now, when a child wants to come to us, we can’t just let it go. Just let me know when we can take her home,” Lucy said.
“It’ll take some time, but for now, I’ll submit the documents to expedite the process.”
As the doctor had said, it took some time, but Lucy and Ross had no regrets about their decision. When they brought the child home, they felt as if their family was finally complete. They named the baby girl Amelia.
Savannah visited them after learning Lucy and Ross had adopted the child and couldn’t stop thanking them. Since then, she’s become a regular at the Matthews’, and she mostly spends the weekends with Lucy’s kids: the twins Sia and Mark and Amelia.
What can we learn from this story?
- Relationships are formed through love and care, not necessarily by blood. Lucy and Ross’s adoption of Amelia as their kid is a beautiful example of this.
- Some accidents are beautiful. Savannah brought Amelia to Lucy simply because she wanted her to be adopted by a good family, and in the end, the poor child was blessed with a lovely family.
Businessman Loses All Hope After His Diagnosis, but One Hospital Encounter Changes Everything — Story of the Day
When a workaholic businessman receives devastating news about his health, he meets a young boy in the hospital who changes his outlook on life. Their bond grows through unexpected friendship and small acts of kindness, teaching him what truly matters—until a heartbreaking twist reshapes everything.
Andrew, 50, sat at his desk, shuffling through papers while juggling scheduling meetings with his partners.
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He didn’t hear Michael, his assistant, enter the room. Michael stood there, waiting. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.
No response. Andrew kept working, his focus sharp. Michael tried again. “Mr. Smith.” Still no answer. He repeated his name three more times.
Finally, Andrew slammed his hands on the desk and snapped, “What?”
Michael didn’t flinch. “You asked me to tell you if your ex-wife called.”
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Andrew groaned and rubbed his temples. “How many times do I have to tell you? Ignore her calls. What now?”
Michael held a notepad. “She left a message. I should warn you—it’s a direct quote. Her words, not mine.” He read from the note. “‘You pompous jerk, I will never forgive you for wasting so many years of my life. If you don’t give me back my painting, I’ll smash your car.’ That’s the message.”
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Andrew’s face turned red. “We’ve been divorced for two years! Does she not have anything better to do?”
Michael looked at him, waiting for further instructions. “Should I respond to her?”
“No! And stop taking her calls,” Andrew said. Then he paused. “Actually, tell her I threw that painting in the trash!”
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Andrew grabbed a pen and hurled it toward the wall. Michael ducked slightly, gave a polite nod, and left the room.
Moments later, Andrew’s phone rang. He frowned, picking it up.
“Andrew Smith?” a voice asked.
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
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“This is the hospital. Your test results are ready. The doctor wants to see you.”
“Can’t you just tell me now?” Andrew said, irritated. “I’m busy.”
“Sorry, sir. The doctor will explain in person.”
Andrew sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll come in.” He hung up, shaking his head.
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Andrew rarely allowed himself the luxury of a lunch break, but this time was different. The doctor’s office was quiet, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound.
Andrew sat stiffly in a chair, his fingers tapping against the armrest. When the door opened, the doctor stepped in, his face serious. Andrew frowned, sensing bad news.
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The doctor sat across from him and spoke in a steady, measured tone, using terms Andrew didn’t understand.
Then came the word—cancer. “We need to act fast,” the doctor said.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Andrew asked, his voice sharp. “I own a company. I can’t just check into a hospital.”
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The doctor met his eyes. “Your health should come first. The company can wait.”
Andrew leaned forward. “What are my chances of getting better?”
“I can’t promise anything,” the doctor said. “Starting treatment right away is critical.”
Andrew’s voice rose. “Can I still work while I’m here?”
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“Treatment affects everyone differently,” the doctor explained. “You will stay in the hospital so we can monitor you. Someone can bring you a computer.”
Andrew frowned and stood up. “Fine. I’ll sort it out.”
The doctor watched him leave. “We’ll see you tomorrow with your things,” he said before Andrew reached the door.
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As Andrew walked through the hospital’s pediatric wing, he noticed a boy, about eight years old, tossing a ball back and forth with a nurse.
The sound of their laughter echoed in the corridor. The ball suddenly rolled across the floor and stopped near Andrew’s feet.
“Excuse me, sir!” the boy called out, smiling. “Can you please throw the ball back?”
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Andrew picked up the ball, his face tense. Without a word, he hurled it down the hall, far from the boy and nurse, then turned and walked away.
“That was mean, sir!” the boy shouted.
Andrew had been in the hospital for days that felt like weeks. He tried to keep working, setting up his laptop and pushing through meetings.
But the treatment was draining. Each session left him weaker. The nausea was constant, and sleep was nearly impossible.
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One afternoon, during another long chemotherapy session, Andrew leaned back, his eyes half-closed. He felt miserable.
Suddenly, a small voice broke through his fog. He opened his eyes to see a boy standing in front of him. Startled, Andrew flinched. The boy giggled. It was the same boy from the corridor.
“What do you want, kid?” Andrew mumbled, not even lifting his head.
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“I’ve been walking around the hospital looking for someone to play with. It’s boring here.”
Andrew glanced at him, annoyed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Tommy,” the boy replied with a wide grin.
Andrew sighed. “Listen, Tommy. I’m not in the mood to play. Go bother someone else before I start feeling worse.”
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Tommy didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small peppermint candy. He held it out to Andrew. “This helps with nausea. You should try it.”
Andrew hesitated, then snatched the candy and set it on the table.
“You’re really grumpy!” Tommy said, laughing. “I’m going to call you Mr. Grouch. Are you mad because you’re scared of needles?” He pointed at the IV attached to Andrew’s arm.
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Andrew frowned. “I’m not scared of anything.”
Tommy nodded. “That’s fine. I was scared at first too, but then I stopped. My mom says I’m a superhero. Do you have a superpower?”
“No,” Andrew said, his voice flat.
“That’s because you’re too sad,” Tommy replied, his tone serious now.
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Andrew looked at the boy, surprised by the honesty in his big, bright eyes. “Is there anything you want?” Andrew asked.
Tommy grinned. “Yeah. I want to buy flowers for my mom. She works really hard, but I don’t have any money.”
Andrew sighed again, reached for his wallet, and pulled out a few bills. “Here. Get your flowers. Maybe buy yourself something too. But leave me alone.”
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Tommy’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mr. Grouch!” He ran out, clutching the money, while Andrew stared at the peppermint candy on the table.
With a sigh, he picked it up, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. To his surprise, the sharp sweetness helped ease the nausea. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference for a while.
That evening, as Andrew stared at his laptop, a nurse knocked on his door.
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She carried a small paper bag. “This is for you,” she said, placing it on the table. “Tommy sent it.”
Andrew opened the bag and found it full of peppermint candies. He shook his head, unsure whether to feel amused or moved.
The next morning, he decided to find Tommy. He needed to make one thing clear: the money wasn’t a gift.
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As he approached Tommy’s room, he saw a woman leaning against the wall, her shoulders shaking. She was crying.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked, his voice low.
The woman wiped her eyes quickly and looked up. “Yes… Did you need something?”
“Tommy gave me some candies yesterday,” Andrew said.
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The woman’s lips curved into a small smile. “Oh, so you’re Mr. Grouch,” she said.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “My name’s Andrew,” he replied.
“I’m Sara,” she said. “Are you here for treatment too?”
Andrew nodded.
“Then you understand,” Sara said quietly. “The bills, the stress. I can’t even pay rent right now. They told me we’ll be evicted in two months.”
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Andrew nodded again, unsure of what to say. Before he could respond, the door burst open. Tommy ran out, his face lighting up when he saw Andrew. “Hey, Mr. Grouch!” he called, grinning ear to ear.
From that day forward, Tommy became a constant presence in Andrew’s life.
The boy would wander into Andrew’s room with a big grin and endless energy. At first, Andrew found it annoying, but Tommy’s persistence wore him down.
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Soon, Andrew began looking forward to the visits. Tommy taught him to notice the simple joys in life.
They sat by the window, watching the sunset, guessing the colors in the sky. They played harmless pranks on nurses, earning scolding looks and stifled smiles.
Sometimes, they “borrowed” wheelchairs and raced down the halls, laughing until their sides hurt.
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Andrew didn’t ask about Tommy’s illness. He wasn’t sure how to bring it up. One afternoon, Tommy mentioned Sara had been crying again. “She’s worried about money,” Tommy said. “We might lose our house.”
Andrew quietly gave Tommy an envelope of cash. “Tell her it’s from a magician,” he said.
When Sara tried to return the money, Andrew waved her off. “I’m not a magician,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from.”
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Weeks passed. Andrew’s treatments worked, and the day came when the doctor gave him the news—he was cancer-free.
Ecstatic, Andrew rushed to share it with Tommy. But when he arrived, Tommy was unconscious, Sara sitting beside him, tears streaming down her face.
“What happened?” Andrew asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Sara wiped her eyes and shook her head. “The doctors said there’s nothing more they can do.”
Andrew stared at her, struggling to process the words. “But… he seemed so happy. He always smiled. I thought he was improving.”
Sara looked at him, her face full of pain. “He didn’t want you to see how sick he was. He wanted to be strong for you. He thought he was a superhero.”
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Andrew’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.”
Sara managed a faint smile through her tears. “Don’t be. He said you saved him. These months, you gave him laughter and hope. You made him forget about being sick.”
Andrew shook his head slowly. “No. He’s the one who saved me.”
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He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. She cried quietly against his shoulder, and though Andrew wished he could take her pain away, he knew nothing would ever truly ease it.
That night, Tommy passed away peacefully, surrounded by the love of his mother and the memories he had made.
Andrew sat alone in his room afterward, overwhelmed by the loss. Andrew couldn’t bear the thought of such a bright soul being forgotten.
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Determined, he started a foundation in Tommy’s name to help sick children, ensuring his kindness would live on.
He also stayed in touch with Sara, offering her support in every way he could.
One afternoon, Andrew stood at his ex-wife’s door, holding the painting she had demanded for so long. She opened the door, her mouth ready to hurl accusations, but Andrew silently handed her the painting.
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“I’m not here to argue,” Andrew said, his tone calm as he held out the painting.
His ex-wife frowned, puzzled. “What is this supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” Andrew replied, a small smile forming. “I’m just making sure I keep my superpowers.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Taking care of Mom was hard enough without the tension with my sister. Accusations flew when precious things started disappearing. I thought I knew who was to blame, but the truth shattered my world. Betrayal came from where I least expected, leaving me questioning everything—and everyone—I trusted.
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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