Hi, everyone! I’m Colleen. I’m 32 years old, single, and still waiting to meet the right guy. I love kids and dream of having my own one day. Finding true love is tough, but I believe it’s worth waiting for the right person. What I didn’t know was that my life was about to change in a way I never imagined.

One evening, while I was taking my usual walk with my dog, I noticed two little girls, about 8 years old, sitting on a park bench. They were dressed in shabby clothes, and there was a deep sadness in their eyes that I couldn’t ignore. I saw them there every night, always alone, and I felt like something was seriously wrong.

As the weather turned colder, I saw them again, still wearing the same thin, worn-out jackets, shivering under the flickering streetlights. My concern grew until I couldn’t just walk past them anymore. One evening, I decided to follow them and find out more about what was going on.

When the sun began to set, the girls stood up, held hands, and walked away from the park. They moved slowly, like they were scared of where they were going. My worry deepened with every step they took, and I followed them carefully to make sure they were safe.

To my surprise, they got on a bus, looking even smaller under the bright lights. They whispered to each other as the bus traveled nine long stops, and my anxiety grew with each passing mile.

When they finally got off, I was shocked to see them walk into a wealthy neighborhood. Their shabby clothes stood out against the fancy houses around them. They walked up to a large home and went inside without any hesitation. I stood there, confused. How could these girls, who looked so neglected, live in such a nice area? Something wasn’t right.

I took a deep breath, walked up to the house, and rang the doorbell. A maid answered, looking at me with suspicion.

“Can I help you?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, I’d like to speak with the parents of the twin girls who just came in,” I said, trying to sound calm.

The maid hesitated but finally nodded. “Wait here, please.”

After several minutes, a man appeared at the door. He was wearing an expensive suit and had a cold, unfriendly look.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

I swallowed hard. “Sir, I’m concerned about your daughters. I see them alone in the park every evening, and it’s not safe—”

He cut me off. “That’s none of your business. Don’t come here again.” Then he slammed the door in my face.

I walked away, my mind racing. Something was very wrong, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that those girls needed help.

The next day, I went to the park earlier than usual. Around 4 p.m., the twins showed up and sat on their usual bench. Summoning all my courage, I approached them.

“Hi there,” I said softly. “I’m Colleen. What are your names?”

They looked at each other before the slightly taller one answered, “I’m Hannah, and this is Lily.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said. “I’ve seen you here a lot. Are you okay? Where are your parents?”

Hannah’s lip quivered. “Our mom died three years ago. Dad remarried, and now…” She stopped, glancing at Lily.

Lily picked up, “Our stepmom doesn’t like us. She makes us come here every day because she doesn’t want us around.”

My heart sank. “What about your dad? Does he know?”

Hannah nodded sadly. “He doesn’t care anymore. Not since the baby came.”

I sat down beside them, my heart heavy with their story. “Girls, I want to help. Can you tell me more?”

For the next hour, Hannah and Lily opened up to me. After their mother’s death, their father had quickly remarried, and within a year, their stepmother had a son. Since then, the girls had been pushed aside.

“She only buys us old clothes from secondhand stores,” Lily said, tugging at her worn sweater.

Hannah added, “And if we come home before dark, she won’t give us dinner. She says we’re a burden.”

Anger and sadness welled up in me. “Does your father know about all this?” I asked.

They both nodded, looking down at the ground.

“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.

“No. Our stepmother says no one would believe us,” Hannah replied bitterly. “She says we live in a big house, so people think we’re lucky.”

I leaned closer and said, “I believe you. And I want to help, but I need to know something first. Do you want to stay with your family, or would you rather live with people who would care for you?”

The girls looked at each other, then back at me with tears in their eyes.

“We don’t want to live in that house,” Lily whispered. “We want to live with people who won’t throw us out every day.”

My heart broke for them, but I felt a strong determination to help. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you. But first, I need to record what you’ve told me. Is that okay?”

They nodded, and I took out my phone to record their story. As they spoke, I felt a mix of anger and sadness. How could anyone treat children this way?

When we finished, I gave them my phone number. “If you ever feel unsafe or need help, call me anytime, okay?”

They promised they would, and I watched them leave the park, their small figures weighed down by their troubles.

That evening, I made one last attempt to speak with their father. When he opened the door, his face was filled with anger.

“I told you not to come back,” he growled.

“Sir, please,” I pleaded. “I’m worried about Hannah and Lily. They’re not being taken care of properly—”

He interrupted again, his voice dripping with disdain. “Those ungrateful brats have been telling tales, haven’t they? Listen, lady, mind your own business. They have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. What more do they want?”

“They want love,” I replied quietly. “They want to feel safe and valued. Every child deserves that.”

“They should be grateful for what they have. Now get off my property before I call the police.”

As he slammed the door shut, I knew I had to act quickly.

The next morning, I called social services and told them everything. I provided the recording of the girls’ testimony and explained what I had witnessed. They assured me they would investigate immediately.

Two days later, I got a call. Social services had removed Hannah and Lily from their home, and their father and stepmother were facing charges of neglect and abuse. The girls were safe but needed a place to stay while a permanent solution was found.

Without a second thought, I volunteered to be their foster mother. It was a big decision, but I knew it was the right one.

When Hannah and Lily arrived at my apartment, their eyes were filled with fear and hope.

“Is this really okay?” Hannah asked quietly. “Can we stay here?”

I knelt to their level and said, “Yes, sweethearts. You’re safe here. You can stay as long as you need to.”

Lily’s voice trembled, “You won’t send us away?”

“Never,” I promised. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want to stay.”

The next few weeks flew by. I took the girls shopping for new clothes, enrolled them in a nearby school, and spent every moment making them feel loved and secure.

As time passed, I found myself falling in love with these brave, resilient little girls. They brought a kind of joy to my life that I had never known.

Three months later, I made another big decision.

“Girls,” I said one evening as we stood in the park, “I have something important to ask you.”

They looked at me with a hint of worry.

“How would you feel if I applied to adopt you? To become your forever mom?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, suddenly, they threw their arms around me, sobbing and laughing.

“Yes, yes, yes!” they shouted together.

As I held them close, tears streamed down my face. I realized how much my life had changed.

I always thought I’d find love with a romantic partner and have children someday. Instead, love found me through two little girls who needed someone to see them, hear them, and fight for them.

The adoption process wasn’t easy, but we faced it together. Six months later, Hannah and Lily officially became my daughters.

Looking back, I’m so grateful I trusted my instincts that night in the park. By getting involved, I changed the lives of two amazing little girls and found a love and purpose I didn’t know I was missing.

To anyone reading this, I urge you: if you see something that doesn’t seem right, speak up. You never know whose life you might change.