Ever since we announced my pregnancy, Avery—my husband’s female best friend—has been overwhelming us with advice we never asked for. At first, I brushed it off, but when she insisted on hosting my baby shower, I knew I had to put an end to her controlling behavior. I was sick of her constant interference. That’s when I decided to teach her a lesson she would never forget. My husband, Scott, works as a food safety auditor. Avery, his so-called best friend, is a nutritionist. They met at work and clicked

Two years had passed since I saved a woman’s life at 35,000 feet, and yet here I was, at rock bottom. Bills stacked on the counter like grim reminders, my mother gone six months ago, and my tiny basement apartment feeling more like a prison than home. I was 26, exhausted, broke, and alone. It was Christmas Eve, and the world outside seemed to celebrate, while I sat in the shadows, surrounded by peeling wallpaper and a radiator that clanged like a warning bell. My neighbor’s TV played a holiday

The rain was pouring so hard it felt like needles hitting my back as I pushed my granddaughter’s stroller across the street. My jacket barely covered her tiny body, and all I could think about was getting her somewhere warm and dry. That’s when I spotted a little café glowing through the rain. Inside, the air smelled of coffee and cinnamon rolls. My glasses fogged as I found a small table near the window. I parked Amy’s stroller beside me and pulled her into my arms when she started fussing.