Man Discovers Crushed Phone by the Road — One Call to ‘Daughter’ Changes Everything

Man Finds a Smashed Phone on the Roadside—When He Inserts the SIM Card Into His Own Phone and Calls ‘Daughter,’ His Heart Stops

Curiosity got the cat, as they say, but in my case, it helped a desperate family get the long-needed assistance. In addition, my curiosity on the day I discovered that broken phone led to a joyful existence I never would have imagined.

The fall air felt cold against my face as I stepped outside my home on a clear morning. Like every morning, I was heading to the bakery to get my mom, Helen, some fresh rolls for breakfast, which she had already started. I had no idea that today would be quite eventful for us both.

Our little world felt steady because my mother and I had a modest tradition of eating breakfast together. It’s likely that you’re asking why a successful 30-year-old man would live with his mother.

I didn’t know my father, you see. When my mother told him she was pregnant, he had left her. My mother and I chose to live together in order to avoid her feeling as alone as I did.

You wonder, what about my love life? I’ve never been a social butterfly, therefore I’m not exactly one. Dating has always been difficult for me because I’m not conventionally attractive, and I’ve long since given up on it. Rather, I immersed myself in my programming work, coding during the day and toying with devices at night.

I was walking down the sidewalk that morning when my sneaker scuffed against something hard. I noticed a phone laying on the grass not far from the curb, its screen broken like a spiderweb.

I picked it up because I was curious. As though it had been struck by a car, the casing was crushed and the rear had partially ripped off. An older keypad phone, the kind you only saw in hands of people who couldn’t buy better, wasn’t a model worth much.

I saw an intriguing challenge when I flipped it over in my hand. “Maybe I can fix it,” I whispered.

I slipped it into my pocket and carried on to the bakery, but I couldn’t help but think about the phone. It was more than simply the damage; it was the way it was sitting there, discarded, as though someone had thrown it out quickly.

I had completely forgotten about the smashed phone in my pocket by the time I got home. Before we started our Saturday activities, my mom and I enjoyed the delectable breakfast she had made. I took out my own phone and took out its SIM card, remembering the broken one.

I reasoned that if the old phone was dead, perhaps the SIM card inside was still functional. I turned it on after carefully sliding it into my backup phone. A contact list showed up.

The majority were emergency services, schools, and hospitals. The only one with a preferred number marked was “Daughter.”

My chest grew constricted. This phone has been lost by whom? And why did it appear that this “Daughter” was the only person they genuinely cared about? I called the number out of the blue. Once, it rang. Then twice.

Finally, a little, animated voice responded. “Mom?!”

I gasped. “I’m not your mother,” I said. I hurriedly stated, “I’m sorry for calling,” prepared to end the phone, but I hesitated when the young girl added anything else.

“Where is she?” Her tone faltered a little.

I said, “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” “I used the SIM card from a broken phone that I discovered. “Who are you?” I inquired inquisitively, feeling that something was amiss.

The girl paused. “Julie. Her voice breaking with anguish, she disclosed, “My mom went to the store yesterday and didn’t come back.”

A chilly sensation crept over me. “Julie, where’s your dad, grandma, or anyone I can speak to?”

Softly, “I don’t have a dad,” she said. or a grandmother. Only Mom.

I took a swallow. “Do you know where you live?”

“Independence Street. Building seven, apartment 18.”

I tightened my grasp on the phone. “All right, Julie, how are you? Are you by yourself at the moment?

Whispering, “Yes, I’m okay and alone,” she said. But I can’t move my legs. I am unable to go.”

I got up suddenly. “Your legs—what do you mean?”

Simply, “I have a wheelchair,” she stated. But without somebody to assist me, moving is difficult. I’m afraid.

My protective instincts took over, and I didn’t think twice. “Listen attentively, Julie. I’m Alan, and I’m on my way to pick you up. “All right, I’ll be there shortly.”

She gave me a feeble “Okay,” and then I hung up.

As soon as she heard, my mother reached for her coat. firmly, “You’re not going alone,” she stated. “If there’s a child in trouble, we need to help.”

Although I hadn’t planned on spending my weekend in this manner, it seemed like the correct thing to do. It was providence that I found the phone at that moment. It took us just fifteen minutes to get to the apartment complex after hailing a cab.

The facility was dilapidated, with mailboxes full of past-due bills and flickering hallway lights.

Uncertain of what I would discover, I held my breath as I knocked on Apartment Eighteen.

A cautious, quiet voice entered the room. “Who is it?”

“It’s Alan,” I declared. “I spoke to you on the phone.”

“The door is open,” she answered. Enter.”

I pulled the door open a few inches, and it creaked. In the temporary living room, a small, thin girl, about six or seven years old, looked up at me from a wheelchair. Her face was pale and sorrowful, her hair disheveled, and her eyes were wide and fatigued as she gazed at me.

My heart tightened.

With tears in her eyes and a shaky voice, she questioned, “Will you find my mom?”

I realized then that the path ahead would reveal realities I wasn’t prepared to confront, but it was too late to go back at this point.

“We will, I promise,” I responded, kneeling in front of her. Let’s check on you beforehand, though. Have you have any food?

She gave a headshake. “Yesterday I had a sandwich. That was the final one.

I reassured her, “I’ll go find something in a bit,”

“Julie, what’s your mom’s name?” I said, taking a resigned sigh.

Softly, “Victoria,” she said. “She never leaves me alone this long.”

My anxiousness just increased as a result.

She is the greatest mother in the world and normally comes home after running errands, but this time she didn’t. Her number didn’t work when I tried to call it. The young girl admitted, “People here keep to themselves, so none of the neighbors would come to check on me.”

My thoughts was racing, and my heart hurt. I understood that this was not an easy matter. There was a terrible problem. After her mother vanished, Julie found herself alone, confined to a wheelchair, unable to walk, and without anybody to turn to.

But now that we were here, I remarked, “I’m going to find some food.” “Are you okay with my mom, Helen, staying here with you?”

“Okay,” said Julie.

My mother hurriedly made supper for the young girl when I got back, and we sat down together as she gobbled it up. We couldn’t waste time, I knew. Victoria had to be located as quickly as possible.

I pulled out my phone, checked the headlines, and was horrified to learn that a woman had been struck by a Ford on Parkova Street yesterday. At a nearby hospital, she was in critical condition.

I called right away, however it took several rings to get through the congested line.

The nurse who responded said, “Yes,” when I identified myself and said I was with Victoria’s anxious kid. “Yesterday, she was admitted. She is presently unconscious but stable. We were unable to contact any families.

My chest constricted. I said, “I’m coming,” without waiting for an answer.

In order to verify that the patient in the hospital was indeed Julie’s mother, my mother and I agreed that it would be better to drop her off at our apartment.

Maureen, our amiable neighbor, volunteered to watch Julie while we were away, so we had to persuade her that she was secure with her.

I told the staff everything when Helen and I arrived at the hospital. She just regained consciousness,” the nurse replied after hesitating for a while. I’ll try to talk to her about everything, even though she’s quite weak and her health is still really critical. She might want to see you.

The nurse smiled hopefulally when she came back. “Please don’t take too long; she is willing to see you. She needs to sleep.

We quietly made our way into her room. Victoria’s face was bruised and she was pallid. When I moved closer, her eyes opened.

Her voice was raspy, “Who…?”

I said softly, “This is my mother, Helen. My name is Alan.” “I talked to Julie after finding your phone. She is anticipating your arrival.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Julie… is she okay?!”

I gave a nod. “She’s okay, but she’s afraid. She had been anticipating your return home.

Victoria turned away, her face etched with remorse. “I never wanted this.”

I came up with a chair. “Victoria, what happened?”

She took a swallow. “I was struck while en route to pick up Julie’s medication. She is afflicted with… Despite my best efforts, I have been unable to accumulate money for surgery. I don’t have any relatives. I have no family or safety net because I was adopted as a child. I am an orphan. For as long as I can remember, there has only been Julie and me.

I felt so sorry for her.

“This circumstance wasn’t intended for us to be in. I was left with nothing after divorcing Julie’s violent father, and I’ve been having difficulties ever since. I didn’t know who else to turn to because my ex-husband and his family wouldn’t help me.”

Her voice trembled as she went on. “I was too afraid to ask for help, but I never wanted Julie to feel abandoned. I reasoned that perhaps no one would learn about my shortcomings as a parent if I stayed quiet about our predicament.

“I walked everywhere since I couldn’t afford a car. I was rushing home last night when the accident occurred. When I woke up, I was terrified—not for myself, but because I knew Julie was alone herself,” she said.

I let out a breath and clutched my chair’s arms. “You’re not alone anymore.”

She looked up, cautious but optimistic.

At that moment, I decided. “I’ll assist you. Julie is worthy of a chance.

I made contact with several people, and we were able to get Julie surgery with the assistance of contributions and a specialist. Although it took a while, the procedure was crucial in changing everything.

I saw Julie walk for the first time months later. She held on to my hand, but it was unsteady, yet she was moving! Victoria, who was completely recovered, was standing next to me, crying. Her voice was no more than a whisper as she turned to face me. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

I said, “You don’t have to,”

Beyond simply being strangers who happened to cross paths, we developed into something more. Julie and I became close over time, and our love for her mother strengthened my relationship with her. Our relationship eventually developed into something more complex.

I never thought I would have a family, but now that I was standing next to the woman I had married after falling in love with and the young child I had adopted and saved, I knew I had found one.

Furthermore, I wouldn’t exchange it for anything.