A free vacation with a stranger sounded too good to be true—but the email didn’t ask for credit card details, or even personal information: just a ticket, a hotel, and a mystery companion. Intrigued, I boarded the plane, only to find out my “stranger” was someone I never wanted to see again.
It was a typical Friday evening, but my body felt like it had gone through a whole week’s worth of exhaustion.
I had barely kicked off my shoes before collapsing onto my sister Deborah’s couch, one arm draped over my face, the other lazily scrolling through my inbox on my laptop.
Across the room, Deborah was in her own world. She paraded around in front of the mirror, changing into outfit after outfit, twirling, striking poses like she was on a runway.
The crinkling of shopping bags and the rustle of fabric filled the air as she excitedly switched between clothes she had just bought.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She did a quick spin and looked at me expectantly. “What do you think?”
I barely glanced up, giving her dress a lazy once-over before smirking. “Nice, Deb. But I don’t get why you need so many clothes.”
Deborah scoffed, hands on her hips. “Of course, you don’t. You weren’t the one stuck wearing hand-me-downs your entire childhood.”
She dramatically flipped her hair. “Consider this my therapy. I’m healing, Charlie.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I shook my head. “Whatever you say…” My attention drifted back to my laptop, aimlessly clicking through emails.
Mostly junk. Bills. Newsletters I forgot to unsubscribe from.
Then, something made me pause.
I sat up straight, my eyes narrowing at the subject line of an email I didn’t remember signing up for.
“Congratulations! You’ve won a free two-day vacation with a mystery travel companion!”
Before I could process it, Deborah’s voice interrupted.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“How about this one?” she asked, stepping into another dress.
I didn’t answer.
Silence stretched for a moment.
“Charlie?” She turned, raising an eyebrow. “Are you even listening?”
I snapped out of it. “Huh? Sorry, I just got some weird email…” I frowned, rereading it.
“It says I won a free two-day vacation with a stranger. Definitely a scam.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Deborah’s jaw dropped. “What!? A free trip? Let me guess—do they need your credit card info or social security number?”
“That’s the thing… they don’t.” I scrolled through the email again, expecting a scammer’s red flag.
“No banking details, no suspicious links. Just a confirmation with my name, flight itinerary, and a hotel reservation.”
Deborah practically lunged across the couch, leaning over my shoulder. “Let me see.”
I tilted my screen toward her. She scanned the email, her expression shifting from skepticism to shock.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“No way… Charlie, this looks legit! There’s an actual reservation—flights, hotel, even travel insurance. It’s all here.”
I shook my head. “No, there’s got to be a catch. No one just hands out free vacations.”
Deborah’s eyes darted across the screen, clicking on links, cross-checking details. Finally, she leaned back, arms crossed.
“I can’t find anything suspicious.” She turned to me with a huge grin. “Charlie, you actually won this trip. Congrats, sis.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I chewed my lip, unsure whether to feel excited or terrified.
“I can’t just go on a trip with some random person.”
Deborah waved a hand dismissively. “Why not? It’s free. And maybe, just maybe, this ‘stranger’ is a hot guy who’ll finally end your dry spell.”
I shot her a glare. “Deborah! I like being single, okay? That’s my choice.”
She smirked. “Sure… I’ve heard that after every ‘seasonal fling’ since your divorce.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her head.
She dodged, laughing. “Hey! Just saying. Maybe it’s fate.”
Fate or not, something about this whole thing felt strange.
And yet, a small part of me wondered…
What if?
The next day, I stood at the airport terminal, gripping my suitcase so tightly my knuckles turned white. The ticket in my hand felt heavier than it should.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I still couldn’t believe Deborah had convinced me to go.
This was completely insane.
Some strangers had sent me free tickets for a contest I didn’t even remember entering. And somehow, I had agreed to spend two days traveling with a mystery person.
The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.
I exhaled sharply and turned toward the exit.
What am I doing?
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Every logical part of my brain screamed to leave before it was too late.
I swallowed, staring at the automatic doors. I’ve always been cautious. Always taken the safest route.
I can’t keep running from new experiences.
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to turn around.
Business class felt surreal. The soft leather seats, the spacious legroom, the complimentary drinks—this was a world I had never stepped into before.
But none of it mattered.
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My focus was on the people boarding, scanning faces, wondering who my seatmate would be.
Would they be talkative? Annoying? Would we have anything in common?
Then, I reached my seat.
A man was already there, hunched forward, scrolling on his phone.
I took a hesitant step forward.
He turned slightly.
My stomach dropped.
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“…Luther?” My voice barely escaped my lips.
His head snapped up, eyes widening. The same piercing gaze I had once loved. The same face I had tried to forget.
“Charlotte?” He blinked. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I exhaled sharply, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Please don’t tell me you also got these tickets.”
Luther ran a hand through his hair, still looking as confused as I felt.
“…Through some contest email? Yeah. You too?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I groaned, every fiber of my being screaming at me to leave.
“Oh no. No, no, no. This is too much. I’m leaving.” I spun on my heel, ready to march straight off the plane.
But before I could take a step, a gentle but firm hand landed on my shoulder.
I turned to find a flight attendant offering a polite but unshakable smile.
“The plane is preparing for takeoff, ma’am. Please remain seated.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, Luther spoke first.
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He turned to the attendant with that same damn charming smile I had seen a million times before.
“It’s okay, everything’s fine.” Then he reached for my hand, squeezing it lightly—just like he used to when he wanted me to calm down.
My body remembered before my mind did.
For a second, just a single second, my breath caught.
Then, I ripped my hand away.
No. Not again.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Charlotte, our marriage ended years ago,” Luther said, his voice softer now. “Please don’t ruin your free trip just because of me. I promise, I won’t bother you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that from you…”
Luther smirked. “Then you’d be rich. But seriously, let’s just coexist for two days.”
I hesitated, my entire body itching to refuse.
But what was I supposed to do?
The plane was boarding, and I wasn’t about to miss my first-ever business class flight just because of Luther.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
With a long, frustrated sigh, I dropped into my seat.
“Fine. Just don’t ruin this trip for me.”
Luther leaned back, grinning. “Only your best years of youth.”
I turned toward the window, ignoring him.
I never expected to see Luther again. And honestly? I had hoped I never would.
The moment we stepped into the oceanfront hotel, I felt my breath catch.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The grand entrance, the towering glass windows reflecting the sea, the marble floors that seemed to stretch endlessly—everything about the place screamed luxury.
For the first time since this ridiculous trip started, I was almost glad I came.
And then Luther stepped up beside me.
“Nice place, huh?” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets.
I forced a tight smile. “Yeah. Not bad.”
“Reminds me of the hall where we had our wedding. Same décor.”
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My stomach twisted. My jaw clenched.
“Oh, so now you’re reminiscing about our wedding?” I snapped. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.
Luther’s easygoing expression faltered. “Charlotte, let’s not—”
“No, let’s.” I folded my arms, my heart pounding with anger. “You suddenly want to relive the past? Let’s talk about how you destroyed everything.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. He sighed, shaking his head before grabbing our bags and walking toward the elevator.
“Can we not do this in the lobby?” he muttered.
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I should’ve let it go. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
But years of hurt, betrayal, and anger had been buried inside me for far too long.
And now?
I wasn’t about to let him walk away from it.
The moment we stepped into the hotel room, the door barely clicked shut before the words exploded out of me.
“Afraid someone will hear about what you did?”
Luther stiffened. He turned, facing me, his eyes shadowed with something I didn’t recognize.
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“Charlotte, please—”
“Don’t call me that!” My voice cracked. “You cheated on me, Luther!”
A heavy silence fell between us.
Luther ran a hand through his hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something painful.
For the first time since seeing him again, he actually looked ashamed.
“I know.” His voice was quiet. “And I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
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“Well, congrats. You did. And I don’t care about your apology, or your excuses.” I stepped back, my voice turning cold. “You don’t get to ruin any more of my life. You hear me?”
I stormed across the room, grabbing one of the beds and dragging it to the opposite side.
“For the next two days, don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.”
Then I slammed the bathroom door behind me.
The first day flew by. I spent it by the pool, avoiding Luther at all costs.
But something nagged at me.
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He hadn’t left the room.
That night, when I returned, I heard coughing from the bathroom. Deep, dry, painful.
A tissue lay on the floor. It was stained with blood.
I froze.
Then the bathroom door opened, and Luther stepped out.
I stared at him. “What stage?”
His eyes softened. “Stage four.”
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I swallowed hard. “When did you find out?”
“Six months ago.” He sighed. “It’s strange, living when you know you’re dying.”
I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.”
“This trip… it wasn’t a contest. I arranged everything,” he admitted.
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“Because I needed to see you one last time,” he said. “To say I’m sorry. And to tell you… I never stopped loving you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tears blurred my vision.
“Is it too late?” I whispered.
Luther smiled sadly. “For me, yes. But for you? You have your whole life ahead of you, Charlotte. And I hope it’s a beautiful one.”
I squeezed his hand.
“Thank you, Luther.”
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The maid took pity and fed the orphan while the masters were away. The returned wealthy couple did not believe their eyes.
Yulia Antonovna had long served in the Grigoryev household—Vladimir and Lyudmila. Today the masters had gone somewhere, and the maid, having finished all her chores around the house, sat down to rest by the window. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to a little boy on the street. Skinny and clad in tattered clothes, he was wandering along the fence of their property.
“Perhaps he’s hungry,” sighed Yulia Antonovna, feeling pity for the unfortunate child. Glancing at the huge clock in the living room, she decided that the couple wouldn’t return anytime soon and stepped out into the yard.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly, addressing the boy who was carefully watching the street. “Vasya,” he replied, giving her a wary look from beneath his disheveled bangs. “Well then, Vasya, come with me. I’ll feed you some fresh apple pie,” the woman offered, and the boy, without hesitation, followed her. His stomach had been rumbling from hunger for a long time—he hadn’t eaten anything that day.
In the kitchen, Yulia Antonovna carefully cut an impressive slice of pie with a knife and placed a plate in front of the hungry little one.
“Oh, it’s so delicious!” Vasya exclaimed, greedily biting into the soft pastry. “My mother used to bake a pie just like this once!” “And where is your mother?” the woman asked cautiously. The boy paused, stopped chewing, and sadly lowered his eyes. “I’ve been looking for her for a long time… She disappeared,” he murmured softly. “Eat, eat,” Yulia Antonovna gently encouraged him. “You’ll find your mother, I’m sure you will.”
At that moment, the front door creaked, and Vladimir and Lyudmila entered the house. The maid flinched at the sound of the footsteps.
“And who do we have here as our guest?” Vladimir asked in surprise as he peered into the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw the boy. “Who did you bring in, Yulia?” he said sternly to the maid. “This child is looking for his mother; he’s hungry, and I decided to feed him,” the woman replied calmly, shrugging her shoulders.
“So now you’re feeding all sorts of strays? And our opinion no longer matters to you?” the master of the house protested.
Hearing these words, Vasya began to cry. “I’m going to leave now,” he mumbled, putting the half-eaten piece of pie back on the plate.
Then Lyudmila intervened: “Wait, boy,” she said softly. “Tell me, where are you from? Where did you lose your mother?”
Lyudmila had always been gentler than her husband. Sometimes Vladimir would scold her for being overly kind, but he had never succeeded in changing her nature.
“I live with my grandfather, but he’s mean. He’s always scolding me for something, and sometimes he even hits me. I ran away from him,” Vasya confessed, and he pulled from the pocket of his old, ragged trousers a yellowed photograph.
“These are my parents. We used to live together,” said the boy, wiping away his tears with his hand as he handed the photo to the homeowners.
Lyudmila, taking the photo in her hands, froze…In the photo was her daughter, Varya! “Look, Volodya, it’s our girl!” she exclaimed, trembling as she passed the photo to her husband.
Vladimir reluctantly took the photo. “Vasya, how did you come by this photo?” he asked in surprise.
“I stole it from my grandfather. On the other side is an address, so I came here. I thought maybe my mother lives here,” the boy answered as he calmed down. “Grandpa always says that my mother is like a cuckoo who abandoned me. But I don’t believe him!”
“It can’t be! It can’t be!” Lyudmila repeated, recalling how their daughter Varya had once run away with a Gypsy named Manush. For several years they hadn’t heard from her, and then she returned, only to be involved in an accident soon after. That day became a nightmare for them, after which they were left completely alone in these huge mansions.
“And where is your father?” Vladimir asked. “And my father is gone. He was buried six months ago,” Vasya cried once more.
The pair was stunned. They had found a grandson! Tired of loneliness, they decided to keep the boy with them.
“You know, little one, we’ll take you to your room,” said Lyudmila. “And will my mother come?” asked Vasya. “Your mother is now with your father,” the woman replied sadly.
Vasya paled.
After a while, the couple finalized the adoption documents. The boy’s grandfather did not object upon learning that his grandson could be taken in by affluent people.
Yulia Antonovna was delighted. Thanks to that day when she met the little one, the homeowners became happy. In time, Vasya was no longer the destitute, hungry stray. Instead, he became a well-dressed boy, aware of proper manners, with a loving family.
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