For weeks I stayed up late, watching camera footage and setting traps to catch whoever was stealing from my small grocery store. I’d run this shop for years, long past the age most people think about retirement. I wasn’t ready to slow down — and neither was my store.
Customers had been coming to me for decades. I knew them like family. But lately, I noticed more than the usual missing items — whole rows of milk, cheese, and yogurt were disappearing overnight. At first I shrugged it off. Then I knew something wasn’t right.
One morning, Mr. Green — a longtime customer — mentioned the dwindling shelves and even suggested it was time for me to retire. I refused. That stung, but it lit a fire in me. I wasn’t going anywhere.
So I had security cameras installed and watched every night’s footage. Soon, a dark, hooded figure appeared, silently taking items off the shelves. I drove the footage to the police station, but all they did was offer advice — not help. I felt dismissed, like an old woman who didn’t know what she was doing.
I didn’t give up. One night after closing, I went back to the store, hid behind the counter, and waited. Hours passed in silence until I heard the rear door open and the alarm beeped off. My heart thumped as I saw the same hooded person. I leapt and grabbed the hoodie — and froze.
The thief was just a boy, barely fourteen, with eyes I recognized instantly — the same eyes my daughter had. I tried to follow him, but he disappeared into the night, and all I held was his hoodie.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Who was he? Why did he look so familiar? The next day I saw him on the street again. I followed him at a distance, watching as he rode his bicycle to a neat little house. I parked outside, holding the hoodie, and finally gathered the courage to knock.
Then she opened the door — my daughter, Alice. I stood in shock when her eyes met mine after fifteen years apart. She was no longer a runaway; she was a grown woman. I barely recognized her.
Inside the house was the boy — Travis. When I revealed the hoodie, Alice’s face fell. Travis confessed he’d been stealing because money was tight, and he wanted to help. He even sold the stolen goods and gave her the cash in secret.
Alice scolded him gently, then turned to me and apologized for disappearing all those years ago. She explained she left because she was ashamed and thought I didn’t want her back. She didn’t even know she was pregnant at the time.
I hugged her. After fifteen years lost, we finally found each other again. Travis promised not to steal again. Deep down I felt something close to gratitude — if he hadn’t taken the goods, I might never have found my daughter.
In that moment, all the anger and guilt melted away. It was like coming home after being lost for years.
