Kyle Greenbecker never thought his life would collapse in just a few hours. He had been away for a year, working long, hard days on an oil pipeline in Alaska. It was rough work, but he kept pushing himself, because he knew what waited for him back home—his wife, Lisa. Kyle and Lisa had met in high school. They’d fallen in love quickly, and he’d married her at nineteen. Many people had doubted them, saying they were too young, but Kyle never regretted it. To him, Lisa was everything. Maybe

My name is Catherine, but most people call me Cathy. I’m 38 years old, 39 weeks pregnant, and carrying baby number two. At this stage, I feel like a balloon stretched to its limit—ready to pop at any second. Every step sends a sharp jolt of pain through my legs. Sleep? Forget it. I can’t even remember what a full night’s rest feels like anymore. We already have our sweet Zoey. She’s four years old, all pigtails, giggles, and endless questions about the world. She keeps me going, even when

My dad’s old 1967 Chevy Impala wasn’t just a car to me. Sure, it was rusty, dented, and sitting out in the yard looking like it belonged in a junkyard. But to me, it was more than metal and paint. It was a piece of my dad, a piece of my childhood, and a project I swore I would bring back to life. The problem? My neighbors didn’t see a memory when they looked at it. They saw an “eyesore.” And that word would spark a battle on our quiet