I am a single mother raising three wonderful girls. Lily is ten. Emma is seven. Sophie is five. We rent a small house that has its flaws, but it feels like ours. My daughters love it, and that has always been enough for me.
Everything changed last week when my landlord, Mr. Peterson, called me.
Landlord: You have to leave the house for a week. My brother is coming to visit. He needs a place to stay. Where you go is not my concern.
Me: This is our home. We have a lease.
Landlord: Do not bring up the lease. Remember when your rent was late. I could have thrown you out then. Leave by Friday or you may not be allowed back.
I was stunned. He did not care that I had three children and nowhere else to stay. He knew I did not have the means to fight him, so I packed what we could and left. We ended up in a cheap hostel across town. It was loud, cramped, and miserable. The girls hated it. Sophie cried herself to sleep every night because we had accidentally left her stuffed bunny, Mr. Floppy, behind.
By the fourth day, I could not take it anymore. Sophie’s tears were breaking me piece by piece, so I decided to go home to grab her bunny. I was nervous as I walked to the door. When it opened, I realized Mr. Peterson had lied.
Our house may be old and worn down, but it is filled with memories. The wooden floors squeak. The paint in the kitchen has peeled so badly that I joke and call it modern art. Lily, Emma, and Sophie turn that imperfect space into home with their games and laughter. They are the reason I push forward every day.
Money is always on my mind. My work as a waitress only just covers what we owe. We never have extra. One unexpected bill could sink us. I live with that fear constantly.
The day after the call, I was hanging laundry when the phone rang.
Hello. I answered, holding the phone to my ear while I worked.
Nancy, this is Peterson.
My stomach tightened as soon as I heard his voice.
Hello, Mr. Peterson. Is something wrong.
I need you out of the house for a week. He said it like it was a simple request.
What. I froze with one of Sophie’s tiny socks in my hand.
My brother is visiting. He needs a place to stay. I told him he could have yours.
I thought I misunderstood him. This is our home. We have a lease.
He snapped back. Stop talking about the lease. Remember when your rent was late. I could have kicked you out, but I did not. You owe me.
I gripped the phone. I was one day late because my daughter was sick. I told you that.
That does not matter. You have until Friday. Leave, or you might not come back.
Please, I do not have anywhere to go.
Not my problem. Then he hung up.
I sat down, staring at the silent phone, trying to breathe through the panic rising in me.
Mama, what is wrong. Lily stood there watching me. Her eyes full of worry.
Nothing, sweetheart. Go play with your sisters.
It was far from nothing. I had no savings. No family nearby. No fight left in me. If I pushed back, he would surely find a way to evict us completely.
By Thursday night, I packed what little we could carry. The girls asked where we were going, and I did not know how to explain.
We are going on a little adventure. I forced excitement into my voice.
Is it far. Sophie asked. She hugged Mr. Floppy close.
Not very far. I answered softly.
The hostel was worse than I imagined. One small room. Thin walls that let in every noise. Arguments. Doors slamming. Coughs through the night.
Mama, it is too loud. Emma whispered. She covered her ears.
I know. I brushed her hair gently, wishing I could promise more.
Lily tried to entertain her sisters. After a while Sophie broke down in tears.
Where is Mr. Floppy. She sobbed.
My heart sank. In the chaos, I had forgotten her toy.
He is still at home.
I cannot sleep without him. Sophie cried harder.
I held her tightly. She shook in my arms. I whispered that everything would be alright, even though it was not.
After four nights of her crying, I reached my limit.
I will bring him back to you. I whispered in the dark.
I drove back to our street. I sat in the car, trying to gather the courage to walk to the door. I worried someone might yell at me or refuse to let me in. But Sophie’s voice replayed in my head.
Please, Mama. I want Mr. Floppy.
I stepped out. My heart pounded. I knocked.
A man I did not recognize opened the door. He was tall, with green eyes that looked genuinely friendly.
Can I help you. He asked.
Hello. I am sorry to bother you. I live here. My daughter left her stuffed bunny inside. I was hoping I could get it.
You live here. He looked confused.
Yes. Mr. Peterson told me and my kids to leave for a week so you could stay here.
He frowned. My brother told me the place was empty. He said it was ready for me.
I shook my head. It is not empty. This is our home. My daughters and I are packed into a hostel. My youngest has cried herself to sleep every night because she does not have her bunny.
He looked furious. At first I thought he was angry with me. Then he muttered under his breath.
I am sorry. He said gently. Please come inside. We will find the bunny together.
He introduced himself as Jack. He helped me look through Sophie’s room. Everything looked the same. He finally pulled Mr. Floppy from under the bed.
Here he is. He handed it to me.
I hugged the bunny and pictured Sophie’s smile. Thank you.
Jack sat down and asked me to tell him the whole story. I hesitated, but then I shared everything. The call. The threats. The fear. The hostel. He listened closely. His jaw tightened more and more as I spoke.
When I finished, he stood and took out his phone.
This is not right. He said.
What are you doing.
I am fixing this.
The call with his brother was heated.
You kicked a mother and three kids out. For me. What is wrong with you. Fix this. Now. Or I will take care of it myself.
He ended the call and turned to me.
Pack your things. You are all coming home tonight.
I stared at him. What about you.
I will stay somewhere else. He answered. And my brother will be paying your rent for the next six months.
Jack helped us move back in that night. Sophie squealed and hugged Mr. Floppy tight as soon as she saw him.
Thank you. I told Jack while I unpacked our bags. You did not have to do all of this.
I could not let you stay there another night.
He kept showing up after that. He fixed the leaky kitchen faucet. He brought groceries. He spent time with the girls. Lily asked his help with homework. Emma played games with him. Sophie eventually invited him to join tea time with Mr. Floppy.
I began to see who he really was. A kind man who cared. Someone patient. Someone good.
Our simple dinners turned into something more. We started dating. He became part of our lives in ways I never expected.
Months later, we sat together on the porch after the girls were asleep.
I have been thinking. He said quietly.
About what.
I do not want you and the girls to ever feel this fear again. No one should worry about losing their home overnight.
I listened, my heart beating fast.
I want to make something permanent. He looked at me. Will you marry me.
I was so surprised I forgot to breathe. Then I smiled. Yes.
A month later, we moved into