My Boss Resented Me for Being a Single Mom—Until I Discovered a Hidden Photo in Her Desk

My Boss Hated Me for Being a Single Mom Until I Found a Family Photo Hidden in Her Desk – Story of the Day

Work was battle, mornings were turmoil, and my boss? The adversary was her. It was difficult enough to balance three children and a busy work, but Margaret made it intolerable.

She hated my tardiness and was cold and quick to judge me—until I saw something one day that completely changed my perception of her.

I gazed at my coffee maker, wishing it would operate more quickly. The seconds seemed to drag on for hours at a time.

The kitchen was filled with the soft hum of coffee making, but it was insufficient to block out the commotion behind me.

I was already fatigued, nervous, and on the verge of being frustrated, and the morning had just began.

My three motivations for living were fully operational behind me. A maelstrom of shrieks, laughter, and flying food surrounded my daughter and my two kids.

“Stop it, Ethan!” Madison had a piercing, high-pitched voice that was tinged with an older sister’s authority.

She managed to dodge a scoop of oatmeal by ducking just in time. Instead, it splashed against the refrigerator.

“He initiated it!” Pointing to his older brother Ben, who had prudently backed off behind his juice cup, Ethan shot back.

“I didn’t,” Ben whispered.

Grasping my coffee mug like a lifeline, I exhaled slowly. The only thing preventing me from going insane was caffeine.

I said, “Okay, shoes on, backpacks ready,” hoping and praying that they would listen to me without protesting for once.

They didn’t.

Naturally, Ethan decided to play chase at this very moment. Socks slipping on the hardwood floor, he laughed and ran down the hall.

Madison moaned. Make him stop, Mom!

I put down my coffee and massage my temples. “I swear, Ethan—”

It’s too late. Already halfway to the living room, he was laughing like a villain from a cartoon.

I looked at the time.

I was going to arrive at work late. Once more.

I felt a surge of annoyance, but underneath it was guilt.

Even though I loved them unconditionally, there were days when I felt like I was chasing after them, cleaning, and trying to keep up all the time.

I mustered a grin, took another deep breath, and marched after Ethan.

Perhaps today wouldn’t be ideal. However, we would at least escape unscathed.

I was already in damage-control mode by the time I got to the workplace and dropped the kids off.

I might be able to enter undetected, slide into my chair, and act as though I had been there the entire time if I moved swiftly.

No luck.

As soon as I walked through the glass doors, I was recognized by Laura, my coworker and the one true friend I had here.

She crossed her arms, leaned against my desk, and smirked as usual.

“Bad morning?”

I tossed my suitcase upon my chair and sighed deeply with exhaustion. “Let’s just say oatmeal shouldn’t be a weapon.”

Laura laughed. It could be worse. At three in the morning, my cat dragged a dead mouse into my bed.

My nose furrowed. “That is worse.”

She smiled. “You see? viewpoint.

I nearly burst out laughing. But the air around me changed before I could react.

Behind me, a shadow loomed.

Before I even turned around, I sensed it.

Margaret.

My supervisor.

Fifty-something, always sharp and cold against my skin like a razor, with a neatly ironed suit and not a hair out of place.

She possessed the ability to make individuals appear smaller simply by glancing at them.

Her gaze swept over me, settling on my somewhat rumpled hair and rumpled clothes.

“Did you miss the memo regarding business attire?” She spoke in a smooth yet icy tone.

I felt the heat creep up my neck.

“I—”

“Please visit my office.” She had already started to go. Arguments are not allowed.

Laura looked at me pityingly. I followed, my shoulders squared.

Margaret spent no time in her office. She didn’t.

“You were running late. Once more. Her look was unreadable, and her arms were crossed. “This is starting to happen frequently.”

I felt the pressure of the talk already bearing down on me as I swallowed. “I really apologize. My children—”

Her expression stiffened.

“You cannot use your children as a justification for acting impolitely.”

I felt my gut tighten. It has nothing to do with professionalism. It involves balancing obligations. You wouldn’t comprehend.

Her eyes twitched with something—pain? Fury? But before I could figure it out, it disappeared.

Margaret’s tone became even more icy. Sharper.

“Being a single mother was your choice,” she stated. “If you can’t handle it, maybe you shouldn’t have had three children.”

It was that.

Anger erupting so quickly that I could hardly process it, I leaped from my chair.

I yelled, “Maybe you shouldn’t judge something you don’t know anything about.” Nevertheless, how could you? This job is all you have.

Margaret’s face faltered for the first time. Her body was tense, her lips pushed into a tiny line.

However, I didn’t wait for her answer.

I slammed the door behind me as I turned and rushed out.

Quiet.

Everyone in the office had heard it all.

With my eyes burning and my heart thumping in my ears, I walked back to my desk with a lump in my throat.

And suddenly, I was aware.

I was about to lose my job.

The remainder of the day was dull. My nerves were raw from waiting, and every tick of the office clock felt stretched.

Margaret would leave her office at any minute, call my name in that clipped, icy voice, and instruct me to gather my belongings.

However, she didn’t.

The door to her office was still closed.

I sneaked peeks at it in between emails, always anticipating it to open. It didn’t.

Curiosity was eating away at me by midday. As Laura picked at a weak salad, I leaned over to her.

“She hasn’t emerged yet?” I asked in a quiet voice.

Laura chewed carefully and shook her head. “No. Not once.

I scowled. Margaret wasn’t like that. She liked to linger, examine, and comment. It was her life.

I felt a knot in my stomach. Was she in there preparing the paperwork for my dismissal?

Writing a lengthy, businesslike email complaining about my “lack of commitment” and “poor performance”?

I shoved my meal aside. I was unable to eat.

My thoughts were entangled in the quiet behind that locked door as the day dragged on.

The door then creaked open as the office was coming to a close.

Margaret went outside.

She had removed her typical chilly mask. Her angular features were softened and obscured by red-rimmed eyes, something new.

She avoided eye contact. didn’t speak. simply picked up her coat and left.

I sat still.

It was the first time I had ever seen her like that.

I got here early the following morning. It’s too early.

In an office that was constantly humming with ringing phones and clacking keyboards, the eerie silence felt out of place.

I wasn’t hurrying through the door with my purse and a half-spilled latte, and the air had a subtle scent of stale coffee and printer ink.

I hadn’t slept.

My stomach twisted with guilt.

I had overreached myself.

The door to Margaret’s office was closed. But there was a problem.

Her seat was vacant.

I had worked here for ten years and had never seen that seat go empty. Not once.

I was already holding my resignation letter tightly, the paper crumpled just a little. Before she even got there, I was going to slide it onto her desk and leave.

However, I paused as I entered.

I noticed something.

She had a drawer on her desk that was slightly open. Just enough to give me a sense of something intimate.

I wasn’t the kind to spy. However, something drew me in its direction.

With shaky fingers, I extended my hand and carefully opened the drawer.

There was a framed picture within.

With caution, I raised it and turned it to face the gloomy morning light.

My breath then caught in my throat.

It was a photo of Margaret, but not the Margaret I knew.

This woman was free, laughing, and dazzling. She didn’t have her hair in its typical tight bun. Rather, her face was framed by lovely curls. She appeared to be lively rather than frigid or rigid.

And inside her embrace…

A girl baby.

My fingers brushed the silky wood as I flipped the frame over.

On the flipside was a note in delicate, slanted handwriting.

“In remembrance of Liza, my life’s sunshine.” I will never be entire again without you.

The wind seemed to have been knocked out of me.

Margaret had a child.

Or had been.

I got a lump in my throat.

I kept thinking about the hurtful things I had spoken to her yesterday. This job is all you have.

I had assumed she was cold-hearted. A device. A lady who put her career above her family.

However, I had been mistaken. So incorrect.

Like a tidal wave, shame swept over me.

I didn’t know what she had endured. I had no idea why she had treated me so harshly.

I had thrown her loss in her face, despite this.

I had to say I was sorry.

A few hours later, I was standing outside Margaret’s house, holding on to my coat to protect myself from the freezing cold.

The crispness of the air allowed each breath to be seen in delicate clouds.

My mind was racing with all I wanted to say, and my heart was thumping as I stood there, staring at the dark green door.

Margaret was someone I had never seen outside of work. She just existed in my imagination, wearing fine suits and immaculately polished heels, within that workplace.

It felt oddly personal to see her here, in a house, like if I were entering a realm I was never supposed to be in.

I inhaled deeply before knocking.

Nothing for a few seconds.

Then there was a shuffling sound.

My breath caught as the door finally opened.

Margaret was hardly recognizable.

Her professional, razor-sharp exterior was gone. Strands of her untidy hair were strewn all over her face.

Her eyes were swollen from crying and had crimson rims. She was dressed in wrinkled, baggy clothing, including a sweatshirt that appeared to have been put on carelessly.

This was what I had done.

As though astonished that I was standing there, she blinked at me.

“I—” I broke the heavy stillness with a blurt, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” “For my words. I was unaware.

Her mouth trembled. After a brief time of looking down, she answered in a hushed voice. “Nobody does.”

I inhaled deeply as the chilly air filled my lungs.

One thing you were correct about was that motherhood is difficult. But to me, it’s also everything. And now I realize that it meant the world to you as well.

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she raised her gaze to mine.

Her voice was hardly audible above a whisper as she confessed, “I used to be like you.”

balancing mom and work. I believed I could handle everything.

She laughed, softly and brokenly. Then Liza became ill. And I lost her regardless of what I did.

I took a deep breath. My chest ached for her suffering.

She went on, trembling, “I didn’t mean to judge you.” “I believe… I was merely envious. that being a mother is still an option for you. that my opportunity was lost.

We simply remained there for a while, the silence enveloping us.

Then I did something that I never would have imagined doing.

I made contact. hesitated.

I then gave her a hug.

She initially tensed up, taken by surprise. She gradually dissolved into it, though.

She let out a faint sob as she trembled in my arms.

“You’re not by yourself,” I said. Additionally, starting a family is still possible. If you’d like one.

Margaret drew back a little to gaze at me and uttered a little, broken laugh. “Who would want me to have children?”

Despite my own tears, I grinned. “All right… A strong, intelligent role model would be beneficial for three children I know.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. I turned and pointed to my car.

The rear door opened.

Madison, Ethan, and Ben were the three small figurines that fell out.

Margaret let out a gasp.

Her face was unreadable as her hand shot to her mouth.

Madison rushed to her and put her arms around Margaret’s waist before I could respond.

She chirped, “Hello!” “Your waffles are really delicious, according to Mommy.”

Margaret chuckled. And she appeared content for the first time.

A genuine smile instead of the icy, work-related one.

Her voice was full of emotion as she turned to face me.

“I’m grateful,” she muttered.

I returned the smile.

“A seat at the table is no longer vacant.”

And we both got back what we had lost that day.

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