A lonely street-sweeper found a phone in the park. When she turned it on, she was stunned for a long time.
Martha Whitmore left for work earlier than usual. Weekends always left the streets littered, so she arrived at 4 a.m. to get everything done. She had been a cleaner for many years. Once, her life had been very different.
As she gripped her broom, Martha thought of her beloved son, whom she had chosen to raise alone at 35. Men had never stayed, so she devoted herself entirely to the boy. She adored her Oliver. He was clever, handsomethe only thing that unsettled her was how much he hated their neighborhood.
“Mum, when I grow up, Ill be a proper gentleman!” hed tell her.
“Of course you will, love. How could you not?” shed reply.
The moment he turned 16, he left for student housing closer to college. Martha hated the distance, but he promised to visit often.
At first, Oliver kept his word. Then he met a girl, and home became an afterthought. Until the day he returned for good, pale and trembling, whispering of a sickness with no cure. Martha couldnt fathom why fate had been so cruel.
She fought anyway. The doctors suggested a private clinic, but the fees were staggering. Without hesitation, she sold her flat. Then, one night, the call came.
“Your son is gone,” the doctor said.
Martha didnt want to live. Without Oliver, the world had no color.
One morning, as always, she swept the pavement.
“Good morning!” called out Simon Lowell, walking his terrier.
“Morning! Youre up early,” Martha replied.
“Bored at home. Thought Id walk the dog and chat with you,” he said cheerfully.
Simon was a lifelong bachelor. Martha flushed at his attention.
“Right, Ill leave you to it,” he said, tugging the leash.
Martha resumed her workthen spotted something on a bench. A phone. No one around. She turned it on. Photos flickered across the screen. Someone mustve left it behind. Then she gasped.
“My boy! My Oliver!” she sobbed.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Startled, she answered.
“Hello? Thats my phonecan I have it back?” a woman asked.
“Yes, of course. I found it in the park. Come to this address,” Martha said.
The girl arrived. When the door opened, Martha saw a young man behind her.
“Why do you have pictures of my son?” Martha demanded.
“Of Ethan?” the girl frowned.
The boy stepped forward.
“Oliver!” Martha screamedthen fainted.
The boy rushed to her. “Whats wrong with her?”
“She mustve mistaken you for someone. Call an ambulance,” the girl said.
Fifteen minutes later, the paramedics revived her. After they left, Martha finally learned the truth.
Still dazed, she studied the girl. “Do I know you? How did you get pictures of my Oliver?”
“Im Emily,” the girl said. “I dated your son. He left when I told him I was pregnant.”
“Left? He never mentioned you!”
“We were together for months. Then he vanished. I thought he was scared.”
“No, love. Now I understand. He was ill. He didnt want to burden anyoneeven you. Hes been gone for years.”
Emilys eyes widened. “Gone?”
“I sold everything to save him. It wasnt enough.”
Emily exhaled. “So he was protecting me.” Then she beckoned the boy. “Ethan, come here.”
He stepped closer.
“Yes, Mum?”
“Remember how I said your father left us? That wasnt true. He was dying when you were born. And thisthis is your grandmother.”
Marthas heart swelled as she gazed at her grandson.
“Gran,” Ethan murmured shyly.
“Come here, love,” she whispered, pulling him close.
Emily smiled. “Move in with us. Weve got space.”
“No, dear. This is my home. But Ill visit often.”
A knock at the door. Simon stood there, holding flowers.
“For you, Martha. Fancy a walk?”
She grinned. “Alright.”
Emily and Ethan peeked out. “Can we come?”
“If you behave,” Simon joked.
Two months later, Martha became Mrs. Lowell. His terrier, Duke, adored the new family, trotting beside Ethan while his grandmother baked pies for everyone.
