By M Muzamil Shami - May 20, 2025
It started like any other delivery.
Scott, tired from his double shift, knocked on the large oak door of the address on the receipt. The house looked abandoned—except the lights were glowing like secrets waiting to be uncovered.
The door creaked open.
A woman in her mid-forties stood before him, wearing nothing but a sheer robe. Beneath it shimmered a gown made entirely of cash.
“Come in,” she said, her voice smooth, tinged with seduction. “Take as much as you want.”
Scott’s eyes widened. “Ma’am, I just need to deliver the pizza.”
She stepped closer. “What if I said this is more than a delivery? What if it’s fate?”
Her perfume was intoxicating, sweet with something wild beneath. She handed him a bundle of bills. He counted $40—just enough for the pizza.
“I don’t want more,” he said, turning back toward the door.
But her voice froze him.
“You’re a perfect fit. That’s why I chose you.”
She led him into a dimly lit room. There, in a silk-draped bed, lay a girl—motionless, beautiful, pale as porcelain.
“This is my daughter, Tracy,” the woman whispered. “She was in an accident six months ago. The doctors say she won’t wake up... but she loved you, Scott. She went to college with you. She used to watch you from afar.”
Scott’s heart thudded.
He remembered her—quiet Tracy with the sketchbook in the back row. Always smiling. Always alone.
“Why me?” he asked.
“I want her to spend her last days with someone she once loved. Someone kind. Someone real.”
The next day, Scott returned. The house was different now—less eerie, more warm.
He read Tracy stories. Brought fresh flowers. Brushed her hair. He played the guitar softly, hoping the melodies reached her somehow. The woman—her name was Vivian—watched silently, her expression unreadable.
One evening, as he held Tracy’s hand, her fingers twitched.
“She moved,” Scott gasped.
Vivian didn’t react. She poured wine into crystal glasses, her boyfriend George lounging nearby.
“Why do you care so much?” George asked him later.
“I don’t know. Maybe... maybe it’s guilt. Or maybe I owe her something.”
“Or maybe you’re in love with a fantasy,” George said, scoffing.
But Scott didn’t answer. Something about Tracy pulled at him—like a forgotten part of his soul.
A few days later, Tracy stirred again—this time her lips parted.
“Scott...” she whispered.
He froze. Vivian rushed in, her hands trembling. George stood stunned.
“She said your name,” Vivian said. “She remembers you.”
Scott didn’t know whether to feel joy or dread.
Then the truth unraveled.
Scott returned one evening to find police cars outside the house. George was shouting. Officers were handcuffing him.
“You’re under arrest for attempted poisoning,” one of them said.
“What?” Scott blinked. “Poisoning?”
Vivian, her eyes wet, nodded at Scott.
“It was George,” she said softly. “He couldn’t handle the idea of Tracy waking up. I had my suspicions and installed cameras.”
Weeks passed.
Tracy slowly regained her ability to walk, talk, and smile. And every day, Scott was by her side.
One morning, as the sunlight kissed the garden, Tracy looked up at him.
“Did you really stay with me... all this time?”
Scott nodded, tears in his eyes. “I didn’t fall in love with a dream, Tracy. I fell in love with you.”
Would you choose a life of luxury with no love or a struggling life with someone who truly cherishes you? Share your thoughts below
FAQs:
Q1: Is this story based on real events?
While fictional, the story reflects real emotional dilemmas people face—choosing love over material wealth.
Q2: What inspired the “Sleeping Beauty” theme?
The idea explores how love can blossom in the most unexpected ways—even when one heart is silent.
Q3: What’s the moral of this story?
True love doesn’t seek gain—it waits, it sacrifices, and it heals.
#TrueLoveOverMoney #SleepingBeautyAwakens #EmotionalRomanceTale
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