Uma noiva, devastada pela humilhação infligida por sua sogra e seu noivo, encontrou um salvador inesperado em sua doce e idosa avó. Persuadida por sua avó, a garota deixou a cidade para respirar e se curar. Mas quando ela retornou dois anos depois, ela ficou chocada com o que descobriu.
Um jovem pede sua namorada em casamento ao pôr do sol. | Foto: Getty Images
Em 18 de maio de 2019, uma mulher anônima compartilhou sua história no fórum “Nuclear Revenge” do Reddit. A mulher e seu namorado compartilhavam um amor que durou nove anos. O relacionamento deles resistiu ao teste do tempo e, no sétimo aniversário, ele a pediu em casamento, trazendo lágrimas de alegria aos seus olhos.
Eles então planejaram meticulosamente o casamento, mas decidiram esperar dois anos, esperando economizar o suficiente para a celebração dos sonhos e o futuro juntos. Embora suas famílias estivessem muito felizes, a sogra da mulher, a quem ela se referia como “CM”, parecia guardar um rancor inexplicável contra ela.
Uma jovem mulher discutindo com sua sogra. | Foto: Shutterstock
Desde o início, o CM foi abertamente desdenhoso, chamando a autora da postagem de interesseira e, pior ainda, de prostituta, apesar da carreira de sucesso da mulher e do respeito que sua família tinha na comunidade.
Um cliente testemunhou o confronto e imediatamente alertou o gerente da loja e a segurança.
Como o casamento deu errado?
Nos meses que antecederam o casamento, CM teve um prazer malicioso em semear o caos. Ele se intrometeu nos detalhes do casamento, mudando convites, arranjos de assentos e até mesmo o menu sem consultar o casal.
Um casamento ao ar livre. | Foto: Pexels
Cada mudança forçava a mulher a se apressar e retificar a situação, muitas vezes com custo duplo. Em meio à confusão, o apoio inabalável dos avós do noivo e da própria avó forneceram uma âncora muito necessária.
As provocações de CM se intensificaram, chegando até mesmo ao vestido de noiva premiado da mulher. O vestido, um trabalho de amor, foi feito à mão pela melhor amiga de sua mãe, que era como uma segunda mãe para ela. Levou um ano e três meses para ser concluído, tornando-o uma obra-prima premiada. No entanto, a audácia de CM não tinha limites.
Um vestido de noiva branco. | Foto: Pexels
Dois meses antes do casamento, CM roubou o vestido e o destruiu cruelmente, deixando a mulher em estado de choque e desespero. O dia do casamento chegou, mas o noivo estava conspícuo por sua ausência, deixando a mulher devastada. CM aproveitou a oportunidade para humilhá-la ainda mais.
A angústia das mulheres
Em meio à angústia, a autora do post descobriu que seu noivo estava tendo um caso de um ano com uma amiga em comum que ele chamava de “UH”. Encorajado pelo apoio de CM, UH a atormentou abertamente, gabando-se de seu relacionamento com o agora “ex-noivo sem coragem” (SF) da mulher e espalhando rumores maliciosos sobre ela. Seus ataques se estenderam à família dela, questionando sua integridade e honra.
Uma noiva chora ao olhar para sua família. | Foto: Shutterstock
Apesar da fúria da mulher, ela inicialmente se conteve, seguindo o conselho da avó para não agravar ainda mais a situação. Seu desespero chegou a um ponto crítico, levando-a a considerar vingança.
A vingança épica da vovó
A autora do post confidenciou à sua sábia avó, que a aconselhou a não retaliar. Em vez disso, a avó defendeu uma retirada estratégica. Confiando no julgamento da avó, a mulher deixou sua cidade natal, rompendo laços com todos, exceto com sua amada avó.
A avó da noiva. | Foto: Shutterstock
Quando ela retornou depois de dois anos, ela descobriu as consequências devastadoras das ações de CM e UH. A ausência deles havia cobrado seu preço de sua avó, cujo sorriso antes radiante havia desaparecido, substituído por uma expressão melancólica. No entanto, quando a verdade sobre CM, UH e SF veio à tona, sua avó revelou seu lado astuto.
O caso de UH com um chefe casado levou a um divórcio complicado, à revogação de sua licença por torpeza moral e a repercussões legais por desvio de fundos de seu local de trabalho. O casamento de CM desmoronou quando seu marido, antes tímido, pediu o divórcio, buscando escapar de sua influência tóxica.
Uma mulher enterra o rosto nas mãos de vergonha. | Foto: Unsplash
SF estava prestes a receber uma grande promoção, prestes a assumir como chefe do departamento. Esta oportunidade era monumental, considerando que o tornaria o chefe mais jovem da história da empresa. No entanto, toda a perspectiva foi desfeita pelo escândalo e pelo relacionamento familiar próximo entre o chefe de SF (que por acaso era o marido da segunda mãe da mulher).
Homem frustrado sentado no escritório com as mãos na cabeça. | Foto: Shutterstock
Quanto ao que aconteceu com seu ex-noivo, a mulher relembrou: “SF não foi demitido do emprego porque o chefe achou que seria uma saída fácil, e porque minha avó disse ao chefe que demitir SF seria ‘errado e pouco profissional’ e usou sua doce carta de velhinha novamente.”
Vovó ataca novamente
Em uma breve atualização da postagem original , a mulher disse que sua avó encontrou UH no supermercado e iniciou o que pareceu ser uma conversa amigável. Apesar do comportamento educado de sua avó, UH reagiu agressivamente, levantando a voz. Um comprador observou o confronto e imediatamente alertou o gerente da loja e a segurança.
Os olhos de uma mulher mais velha | Foto: Pexels
Quando questionada sobre o incidente, UH relatou o encontro com raiva. A avó, pensativa, aliviou a tensão fingindo que havia recorrido a UH para obter ajuda para encontrar o óleo de cozinha certo, usando seu esquecimento como desculpa. O gerente ficou do lado da avó, e os espectadores se apresentaram para oferecer ajuda e apoio, deixando UH visivelmente desconfortável.
Comentários dos leitores
“Então a avó causou a destruição do casamento de CM, destruiu a palavra e a reputação de CM e SF, resultando no isolamento deles de seus respectivos grupos de colegas, revelou que UH estava tendo um caso e eliminou as chances de SF na promoção que ela tanto queria. Isso é absolutamente uma vingança nuclear!”, comentou um usuário do Reddit.
“SF acabou sozinho e humilhado depois que sua garota o traiu com seu chefe, sua mãe acabou sozinha, e a putinha está grávida de um cara que perdeu tudo em um divórcio, os dois foram pegos roubando e podem acabar presos. Nada como o bom e velho karma”, disse outro.
High School Sweethearts Planned to Meet in Times Square 10 Years Later — Instead, a 10-Year-Old Girl Approached Him There
“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. I promise I’ll be there,” Peter vowed to his high school sweetheart Sally on prom night. A decade later, he showed up with hope in his heart. But instead of Sally, a young girl approached, bearing a crushing truth that would change his life forever.
The music was soft, a gentle hum of violins blending with the muffled laughter of their classmates. Peter tightened his grip on Sally’s hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles like he could memorize her touch. Her mascara had smudged from crying, black streaks lining her flushed cheeks.
“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice breaking.
A romantic couple at a prom | Source: Midjourney
Peter’s eyes glistened, fighting back tears he refused to shed. “I know,” he breathed, pulling her closer. “God, Sally, I don’t want you to go either. But some dreams are bigger than us.”
“Are they?” Sally challenged, her green eyes fierce with emotion. “What about our dream? What about everything we planned?” Her fingers intertwined with his.
“You must go,” Peter whispered. “Your family, your dreams… You’ve always wanted to study in Europe. I can’t hold you back. I won’t be the reason you shrink your world.”
A tear escaped, trailing down Sally’s cheek. “But what about us?” Her voice cracked, those three words carrying the weight of every shared moment, every stolen kiss, and every promise they’d ever made.
An emotional, teary-eyed young woman | Source: Midjourney
He pulled her closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing. “We’ll meet again,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos inside.
“If we ever lose touch, promise me we’ll meet on Christmas Eve, ten years from now… at Times Square,” Sally whispered, a trembling smile breaking through her tears. “I’ll be holding a yellow umbrella. That’s how you’ll find me.”
“Ten years from now, Christmas Eve, Times Square. Even if life takes us separate ways, I promise I’ll be there, looking for the most beautiful lady with a yellow umbrella, no matter what,” Peter vowed.
Sally’s laugh was bitter, tinged with heartbreak. “Even if we’re married or have kids? You must come… just to talk. And to tell me that you’re happy and successful.”
“Especially then,” Peter responded, his fingers gently wiping away her tears. “Because some connections transcend time and circumstances.”
A sad young man with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
They held each other in the middle of the dance floor, the world moving around them… two hearts beating in perfect, painful synchronization, knowing that some goodbyes are really just elaborate see-you-laters.
Time passed like leaves on a breeze. Peter and Sally remained in touch, mainly through letters. Then one day, she stopped writing. Peter was crushed, but the hope of meeting her kept him going.
Ten years later, Times Square sparkled with Christmas lights and the buzz of holiday cheer.
Peter stood near the towering Christmas tree, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. Snowflakes danced in the air, melting as they landed on his dark hair. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a flash of yellow.
A man standing on the street | Source: Midjourney
He hadn’t seen her in years, but he knew he’d recognize her anywhere. Sally was unforgettable. The way her laughter bubbled up when she teased him, the way her nose scrunched when she read something too serious… he remembered it all.
Each passing moment was a thread of memory, pulling tight around his heart.
The crowds shifted and swirled, tourists and locals mixing in a kaleidoscope of holiday excitement. Peter’s watch ticked away. First minutes, then an hour. The yellow umbrella remained a phantom, always just out of sight. Then suddenly, someone called out from behind.
The voice was small and hesitant. So small it could have been carried away by the winter wind. He turned sharply, his heart pounding so hard he could hear its rhythm in his ears.
A man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
A little girl stood behind him, a yellow umbrella clutched in her hands. Her brown curls framed her pale face, her eyes wide and impossibly familiar as they met his.
“Are you Peter?” she asked, softer this time, as if afraid of breaking some delicate spell.
Peter crouched to her level, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. His hands, usually steady, trembled slightly as he met her gaze. “Yes, I’m Peter. Who are you?”
The girl bit her lip, a gesture so achingly reminiscent of someone he once knew that it made his breath catch. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, the yellow umbrella wobbling slightly in her small hands.
“My name’s Betty,” she whispered. “She… she’s not coming.”
A sad girl holding an umbrella | Source: Midjourney
A chill that had nothing to do with the winter air crept up Peter’s spine. Something in her eyes, in the careful way she held herself, spoke of a story far more complicated than a chance encounter.
“Wh-what do you mean? Who are you?” he asked, the words coming out more like a plea than a question.
“I’M YOUR DAUGHTER,” she whispered. Tears welled in her eyes. They were green… startlingly, unmistakably green. The same shade he remembered from a dance floor a decade ago.
Peter’s chest tightened, a vise of emotion squeezing around his heart. “Mmm-My Daughter?” he managed, though some part of him already knew the answer would change everything.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
Before Betty could respond, an older couple approached. The man was tall, his hair silver, and the woman clutched his arm, her face kind but etched with a sorrow that seemed to have carved permanent lines around her eyes and mouth.
“We found him,” Betty said, her voice brimming with nervousness and expectation.
The man nodded and turned to Peter, his gaze steady and penetrating. “Hello, Peter,” he said, his voice deep and measured. “I’m Felix and this is my wife. We’re Sally’s parents. We’ve heard so much about you.”
Peter froze, confusion swirling in his mind like a storm threatening to break. His legs felt unsteady, and his heart raced with dread. “I don’t understand,” he whispered. “Where’s Sally? And what does this girl mean by she’s ‘my daughter?’”
A sad older couple | Source: Midjourney
The older woman’s lip quivered, a fragile movement that spoke volumes. Her words fell like stones, each one shattering a piece of Peter’s world. “She passed away two years ago. Cancer.”
Peter staggered back as if the words had physically struck him. “No… No, that can’t be true,” he repeated, the denial a desperate prayer.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Felix said softly, his voice laden with a compassion that felt like a gentle, merciless embrace. “She… she didn’t want you to know.”
Betty’s small hand tugged on Peter’s sleeve, a lifeline in a moment of emotional destruction. “Before she died, Mom told me you loved her like she was the most precious thing in the world,” she whispered, her voice filled with childlike innocence.
An emotional girl looking up at someone | Source: Midjourney
Peter sank to his knees again, the world spinning around him. His voice trembled, each word a broken piece of a shattered dream. “Why didn’t she tell me? About you? About her illness? Why didn’t she let me help?”
Mrs. Felix stepped forward, her hands clasped. “She found out she was pregnant with your child after she moved to Paris,” she explained. “She didn’t want to burden you. She knew your mother was sick, and you had so much on your plate. She thought you’d moved on, that you were happy.”
“Happy?” Peter’s laugh was a raw, broken sound. “But I never stopped loving her,” he said, his voice breaking like glass, sharp and painful. “Never.”
An emotional man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Felix pulled a small, worn diary from her bag. “We found this after she passed,” she said softly, her fingers brushing the faded cover with a tenderness that spoke of countless moments of grief and remembrance.
“She wrote about you, about how excited she was to see you again today… at this particular spot. That is how we knew. She… she never stopped loving you, Peter.”
Peter took the diary with hands that trembled like autumn leaves, each movement careful, almost reverent. The pages were filled with Sally’s neat handwriting — a beautiful script that seemed to dance between lines of hope and heartbreak.
His fingers traced the words, each paragraph a window into a love that had never truly died.
A man holding an old brown diary | Source: Midjourney
A photograph from their prom night fell between the pages — young Sally and Peter, lost in each other’s eyes, the world around them nothing more than a soft, indistinct backdrop.
Pressed carefully between paragraphs describing Betty’s dreams and Sally’s deepest regrets, the picture was a silent token to a love that had endured despite impossible circumstances.
Tears blurred his vision, transforming the words into a watercolor of emotion. Sally’s hopes, her fears, her extraordinary love… all captured in these fragile pages. He looked up, meeting Betty’s wide, nervous eyes. Eyes that held Sally’s spirit and her courage.
“You’re my daughter!” Peter whispered, the words a revelation, a prayer, and a promise all at once.
A little girl standing on the street | Source: Midjourney
Betty nodded, her small chin lifting with a courage that reminded him so much of her mother. “Mom said I look like you,” she responded, a hint of both vulnerability and pride in her voice.
Peter pulled her into a hug, holding her as tightly as he dared, as if he could protect her from every pain, every loss, and every moment of uncertainty she might ever face.
“You look like your mom too, sweetheart,” he murmured, a small smile flickering on his face. “You’re just as beautiful as she was.”
Betty nestled into his embrace, finding a home she didn’t know she’d been searching for.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
They talked for hours. Betty told him stories her mom had shared, each line a precious thread weaving together the mosaic of a life he’d missed.
Her animated gestures, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about Sally, reminded Peter of everything he’d lost and found in a single moment.
“Mom used to tell me how you’d dance in the rain,” Betty said, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern. “She said you were the only person who could make her laugh during the hardest times.”
Mrs. Felix stepped closer, her hand resting gently on Peter’s shoulder. “Sally was protecting you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of untold sacrifices. “She didn’t want you to feel trapped. She did what she did for you, dear.”
A cheerful girl laughing | Source: Midjourney
Peter wiped his face, his tears freezing on his cheeks like crystallized memories. “I would’ve dropped everything for her,” he whispered.
Mr. Felix’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “We know that now,” he said. “And we’re sorry for not finding you sooner.”
Peter looked at Betty, her face a beautiful blend of wonder and sadness, a living reminder of the love he’d lost and found. “I’m never letting you go,” he said, the promise a sacred vow. “Not until I die.”
She smiled, shy but hopeful, her green eyes — Sally’s eyes — meeting his. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Peter said.
A man holding a little girl’s hand | Source: Midjourney
Over the following months, Peter worked tirelessly to bring Betty to the U.S. The process was complicated, filled with paperwork and emotional hurdles, but his determination never wavered. She moved into his apartment, her laughter (so reminiscent of Sally’s) filling the once-quiet spaces.
“This was Mom’s favorite color,” Betty would say, pointing to a painting or a throw pillow. “She always said it reminded her of something special.”
Peter would smile, understanding now that ‘something special’ had always been him.
He flew to Europe often, spending time with Mr. and Mrs. Felix and visiting Sally’s grave. Each trip was a bittersweet pilgrimage… joy and sorrow intertwined like delicate threads. During these moments, Betty would hold his hand, a silent support, and a living connection to the woman they both loved.
A grieving man in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
“Tell me about how you met,” Betty would ask, and Peter would share stories of young love, promises made beneath school dance lights, and a connection that transcended time and distance.
On the anniversary of their first Christmas together, Peter and Betty stood by Sally’s grave. A bouquet of yellow roses lay on the stone, the petals bright against the pristine snow… a splash of color, hope, and remembered love.
“She used to say yellow is the color of new beginnings,” Betty whispered, her breath creating small clouds in the winter air.
A bouquet of yellow roses on a gravestone | Source: Midjourney
“Your mother was right. She’d be so proud of you,” Peter said, his protective arm around his daughter.
Betty nodded, leaning into his embrace. “And she’d be happy we found each other.”
Peter pressed a kiss to her temple, his heart heavy with loss and love. “I’ll never let you go,” he said again, the promise a covenant between a father, a daughter, and the memory of a love that had waited ten years to be reunited.
An emotional little girl smiling in a cemetery | 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.
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