They say curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, curiosity changed my life and saved a family in desperate need. The day I found that broken phone, I had no idea that it would lead to a journey filled with unexpected turns, a little girl in need, and a love I never saw coming.
It was a crisp autumn morning when I stepped outside, the cold air biting at my skin. My mother, Helen, was already making breakfast, and, like every morning, I was heading to the bakery to pick up fresh rolls. It was a small tradition we shared, one that made our home feel warm and comforting.
Now, you might be wondering—why would a successful 30-year-old man still live with his mother? The truth was, I had never known my father. He abandoned my mother when she told him she was pregnant. We had always been each other’s only family, and I couldn’t bear to leave her alone.
As for my love life? Well, I had long given up on that. I was never the most social person, and my looks were nothing special. Instead of dating, I buried myself in my programming work, spending my days coding and my nights tinkering with gadgets.
That morning, as I walked down the sidewalk, my sneaker bumped into something hard. I looked down and saw it—a phone, its screen shattered like a spiderweb, lying in the grass just off the curb.
Curious, I picked it up. The casing was dented, the back partially peeled off, as if it had been run over by a car. It wasn’t a fancy model—just an old keypad phone, the kind people kept when they had no choice.
I turned it over in my hands, intrigued. “Maybe I can fix it,” I murmured to myself.
I slipped it into my pocket and continued to the bakery, but the phone stayed on my mind. Who had lost it? Why was it abandoned like that?
By the time I got home, I had almost forgotten about the phone. My mother and I enjoyed our usual breakfast before going about our Saturday routine. Then, remembering the broken phone, I took out my own and removed its SIM card. If the old phone was dead, maybe the SIM card still worked.
I carefully inserted it into my backup phone and powered it on. A list of contacts popped up. Most were hospitals, schools, and emergency services. But one number stood out—saved as “Daughter.”
Something in my chest tightened. Who had lost this phone? And why did it seem like the only person they cared about was this “Daughter”?
On impulse, I dialed the number. The phone rang once. Then twice.
A small, hopeful voice answered. “Mom?!”
My breath caught. “I—no, I’m not your mom. I’m sorry,” I said quickly, ready to hang up. But what the little girl said next made me pause.
“Where is she?” Her voice wavered with fear.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my heart pounding. “I found a broken phone and used its SIM card. Who are you?”
“Julie,” she said. “My mom went to the store yesterday and didn’t come back.”
A cold feeling spread through me. “Julie, is there anyone else with you? Your dad, a neighbor, anyone?”
“I don’t have a dad,” she whispered. “Or a grandma. Just Mom.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you know where you live?”
“Independence Street. Building seven, apartment eighteen.”
My grip on the phone tightened. “Julie, are you okay? Are you alone?”
“Yes, I’m alone,” she whispered. “And my legs don’t work. I can’t leave.”
I shot up from my chair. “Your legs—what do you mean?”
“I have a wheelchair,” she explained. “But it’s hard to move without help. I’m scared.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Julie, listen to me carefully. My name is Alan, and I’m coming to get you. I’ll be there soon, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied weakly.
My mother, who had been listening, immediately grabbed her coat. “You’re not going alone,” she said firmly. “If a child is in trouble, we have to help.”
We took a cab and arrived at the apartment complex in less than fifteen minutes. It was a run-down building with flickering hallway lights and overflowing mailboxes.
I knocked on Apartment 18. “Julie? It’s Alan. I spoke to you on the phone.”
A soft voice came through the door. “It’s open. Come in.”
The door creaked as I stepped inside. Sitting in a wheelchair in the dimly lit living room was a frail little girl, no older than six or seven. Her hair was messy, her face pale. Her wide, sad eyes looked up at me.
“Will you find my mom?” she asked, her voice trembling.
I knelt in front of her. “I promise. But first, let’s make sure you’re okay. Do you have any food?”
She shook her head. “I had a sandwich yesterday. That was the last one.”
I glanced at my mother. She nodded. “I’ll make something.”
As Julie ate, I searched online for any news. My heart sank when I found it—a woman had been hit by a car last night. She was in critical condition at a nearby hospital.
I called immediately. After explaining everything, the nurse on the other end confirmed it. “Yes, she was admitted yesterday. She’s stable now but unconscious. We had no way to contact her family.”
I turned to Julie. “We found your mom. She’s in the hospital, but she’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Can I see her?”
“Not yet, but soon. We’ll take care of you until then.”
We brought Julie to our apartment and left her with our kind neighbor, Maureen, before heading to the hospital. When we arrived, the nurse led us to Victoria’s room.
She was bruised, weak, and barely conscious. When I introduced myself, her eyes widened with fear. “Julie… is she okay?!”
I nodded. “She’s safe with us. She’s been waiting for you.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I was trying to get medicine for her when I got hit. She has a condition… I’ve been saving for surgery, but it’s impossible. It’s just been the two of us.”
My heart ached for her. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Over the next few weeks, I helped Victoria recover. With donations and a specialist’s help, we arranged for Julie to have the surgery she needed.
Months later, I held my breath as Julie stood on shaky legs. She took one step, then another, before throwing herself into my arms. “I did it!”
Victoria, standing beside me, wept openly. She turned to me, whispering, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to,” I said.
Over time, our bond deepened. What started as a stranger’s call for help became something much more. Julie became my daughter, and Victoria became the love of my life.
I never expected to have a family. But now, as I held my wife’s hand and watched our daughter walk, I knew I had found one. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
