I dressed in rags, hid my face beneath a worn-out hat, and stood on the street like a beggar—just to see what kind of man my granddaughter was marrying. I thought I was ready for anything. But what happened next left me speechless and changed everything I believed.
Life is unfair. That was the main lesson I had learned, and it was what I had taught my son—and later, my granddaughter. My path had not been an easy one.
My ex-husband had not been a good man, to say the least, so I had left him and walked away with a three-year-old child in my arms. I had nothing—no education, no job—but I knew I had to keep going for the sake of my son. I had worked myself to the bone, barely slept, and there was even a time when we lived in a car because I could not afford food, let alone a place to live.
But all of that was in the past. I had worked like a mule to give my child a better life, and eventually, I had made it. I had become the owner of a restaurant and was proud of what I had achieved, especially knowing I had started out as just a waitress.
It had been a long road, but I had given my son a future. When my son grew up, he turned my restaurant into a franchise, and the business thrived. Now I was seventy-five years old, and even though many people told me it was time to relax and retire, I just could not do it.
I still had strength and energy, and I was not about to waste it sitting on a cruise ship with a bunch of retirees. I also wanted to set an example for my granddaughter, Abby. She was already an adult—engaged, in fact.
Abby had never known poverty. She had been born into comfort and had everything she could ever want. But I trusted that my son had raised her to be a good person, someone who cared.
As a grandmother, my greatest joy was watching my little girl become a woman. Still, something continued to nag at me—her fiancé, Paul. I just could not figure out what kind of man he truly was.
When I looked at him and Abby together, I sensed a chill between them. I started to doubt his intentions. Paul did not come from money; he was a cook in one of our restaurants.
That was how they had met. I was worried he might break her heart or worse—use her. So one evening, I invited Abby over for tea.
I tried to start the conversation as casually as possible. “Are you excited about the wedding?” I inquired, smiling. “Yes, of course I am,” Abby replied brightly.
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