They say curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, it saved a desperate family and led me to a life I never expected.
It all started on a cool autumn morning. The crisp air brushed against my face as I stepped out of the house. My mother, Helen, was already cooking breakfast, filling our home with the warm scent of eggs and toast. Like every morning, I was on my way to the bakery to pick up fresh rolls. It was our little tradition—one of the small things that made our world feel steady.
You might be wondering why a 30-year-old man still lived with his mother. Well, my father had abandoned her when she told him she was pregnant. He walked out and never looked back. My mother and I had been alone ever since. We were each other’s family, so living together just made sense.
As for my personal life? Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. Dating had always been difficult. I wasn’t conventionally attractive, and I had long given up on finding love. Instead, I buried myself in work, spending my days coding and my nights tinkering with gadgets.
That morning, as I walked down the sidewalk, my sneaker hit something hard. I looked down and saw it—a phone, its screen shattered, lying in the grass just off the curb. The casing was dented, the back peeling off, like it had been run over by a car. It was an old keypad phone, not worth much.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. “Maybe I can fix it,” I muttered, slipping it into my pocket before continuing to the bakery. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Something about the way it had been abandoned nagged at me.
By the time I got home, I had forgotten about the phone. My mother and I had breakfast, enjoying our usual routine. But later, when I reached into my pocket, I felt the broken device and pulled it out. My curiosity flared up again. If the phone itself was dead, maybe the SIM card still worked. I carefully took it out and slid it into my backup phone. When I turned it on, a list of contacts appeared.
Most were hospitals, schools, and emergency services. Only one number was marked as a favorite—”Daughter.”
My chest tightened. Who had lost this phone? And why did it seem like the only person they truly cared about was this “Daughter”?
Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed dial. It rang once. Then twice.
A small, excited voice answered. “Mom?!”
I swallowed hard. “I—no, I’m not your mom. I found this phone and used its SIM card. I’m sorry for calling.” I was about to hang up when her next words stopped me cold.
“Where is she?” Her voice wavered.
“I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “Who are you?” I asked gently, sensing something was wrong.
“Julie,” she whispered. “My mom went to the store yesterday and never came back.”
A chill ran through me. “Julie, do you have anyone else with you? Your dad? A grandparent?”
“I don’t have a dad,” she said softly. “Or a grandma. Just Mom.”
My heart ached. “Julie, do you know your address?”
“Independence Street. Building Seven, Apartment 18.”
I gripped the phone tighter. “Are you alone right now? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m alone,” she whispered. “But my legs don’t work. I can’t leave.”
I shot up from my chair. “What do you mean your legs don’t work?”
“I have a wheelchair,” she explained. “But it’s hard to move when no one’s here to help me. I’m scared.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Julie, listen carefully. My name is Alan, and I’m coming to get you. Stay put. I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay,” she said in a small voice.
My mother, who had overheard everything, grabbed her coat. “You’re not going alone,” she said firmly. “If a child is in trouble, we’re going to help.”
We took a cab and arrived at the apartment building in under fifteen minutes. It was run-down, the kind of place where lights flickered and mailboxes overflowed with unpaid bills.
I knocked on Apartment 18, my heart pounding.
A soft, hesitant voice came through the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Alan,” I said. “I spoke to you on the phone.”
There was a pause, then, “The door’s open.”
I pushed it open carefully. The room was dim, cluttered with scattered toys and empty food wrappers. In the center of the small living room sat a frail little girl in a wheelchair. She looked up at me with wide, tired eyes. Her hair was messy, her face pale.
“Will you find my mom?” she asked, her voice trembling.
I knelt in front of her. “We will. But first, let’s make sure you’re okay. Do you have food?”
She shook her head. “I ate the last sandwich yesterday.”
My mother squeezed my shoulder. “Alan, go get food. I’ll stay with her.”
I nodded and rushed out. When I returned, my mom quickly prepared something, and Julie ate hungrily. I knew we couldn’t waste time. We had to find Victoria.
I checked the news on my phone. My stomach dropped. A woman had been hit by a car last night on Parkova Street. She was in critical condition at the hospital.
I called immediately. After a few rings, a nurse answered. “Yes, she was admitted yesterday. She’s stable but unconscious. We couldn’t reach any family.”
“I’m coming,” I said without hesitation.
We left Julie with our kind neighbor, Maureen, and rushed to the hospital. When we explained everything to the staff, the nurse hesitated but finally said, “She just woke up. She’s weak, but I’ll ask if she wants visitors.”
Minutes later, we were led into her room. Victoria looked fragile, her face bruised. Her eyes fluttered open when she saw us.
“Who…?” she rasped.
“I’m Alan, this is my mother, Helen,” I said softly. “I found your phone. Julie is safe. She’s waiting for you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Julie… is she okay?”
“She’s scared, but she’s alright,” I reassured her.
Victoria turned away, guilt flashing across her face. “I was hit while getting her medicine. She needs surgery, but I couldn’t afford it. I had no one to help me.”
My heart ached. “You’re not alone anymore.”
With some calls and fundraising, we got Julie the surgery she needed. Months later, I held her hand as she took her first shaky steps. Victoria, now fully recovered, cried beside me.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to,” I said.
Over time, our bond deepened. I never expected to find love, but I did. Eventually, I married Victoria and adopted Julie.
I thought I’d never have a family. But now, standing beside them, I knew I had found one.
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
