Boy Sees His Birthday Deliveries Planned for the Next 15 Years and Cries When He Finds Out Why – Story of the Day

Charlie, a 15-year-old with a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, trudged out of school alongside his classmate Mark.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot, where students chattered and cars honked in a chaotic symphony.

“Did you hear? We’ve got another test on Friday,” Mark said, breaking the silence.

Charlie groaned, his shoulders slumping.

“Oh no, not again! Is this the fourth test this week? School is exhausting…”

Mark smirked. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just studying. You always stress out before tests, but in the end, it all works out fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Charlie muttered, his eyes scanning the parking lot. His expression darkened as he frowned.

“My mom’s late again! How much longer do I have to wait?”

“Maybe something came up. Don’t be mad at her—she’s picking you up. You should be grateful,” Mark said with a shrug.

Charlie shot him a sideways glare.

“Yeah? I don’t see your mom’s car either. Are you super grateful that she’s late too?”

Mark chuckled softly and shook his head. “She won’t be picking me up anymore. My parents bought me a car for my birthday.”

Charlie stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping.

“What!? A car!? I’d be grateful too if someone got me a car!” he snapped, his voice laced with jealousy.

Mark shrugged again, calm as ever. “You should be grateful no matter what. She’s your mom. Anyway, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah… bye,” Charlie mumbled, watching Mark stroll off toward the student lot.

As he stood there, stewing in frustration, a car horn blared from across the lot. Charlie spun around and saw his mom’s familiar car pulling up.

With a sigh, he slung his backpack higher on his shoulder and jogged toward it, muttering under his breath. He opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, his face already setting in a frown.

Alice, his mom, glanced over at him, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m late again. I had to finish up a few things,” she said apologetically.

“You’re always late these days…” Charlie muttered, avoiding her gaze as he slumped further into his seat.

Alice sighed, keeping her voice calm.

“I said I’m sorry. Now, tell me—how was your day?”

“Not great,” he replied shortly, his eyes fixed on the cars passing outside.

She glanced at him again, concern flickering across her face. “What happened?”

“Mark’s parents bought him a car for his birthday,” Charlie said flatly.

Alice smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“That’s wonderful! Did he give you a ride?”

Charlie turned to her, his expression incredulous.

“No. Mom, my birthday’s coming up soon. Can you get me a car?”

Alice’s hands tightened briefly on the wheel before she answered. “Sweetheart, I already have your gift planned. Maybe I can get you a car in a few years…”

“A few years!?” Charlie’s voice rose with frustration.

“So I have to wait while all my classmates drive around, and I look like an idiot?”

Alice exhaled and tried to keep her tone gentle as she said, “I know it’s hard, but I just can’t afford a gift like that right now.”

Charlie crossed his arms, his voice sharp. “Then return whatever gift you got and buy me a car!”

“I can’t do that, Charlie. I’m sorry,” she said firmly, though her voice was tinged with sadness.

He turned away, pressing his forehead against the window.

The hum of the engine filled the silence as Alice drove, glancing occasionally at her son, his disappointment weighing heavily on them both.

As she pulled into the driveway, the car came to a slow stop. She turned to Charlie, her face softening.

“Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. I have a few errands to run, but I won’t be long. Love you, sweetheart!”

“Yeah…” Charlie mumbled without meeting her eyes. He swung the car door open and headed into the house.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence of the empty house wrapped around him.

He dropped his backpack by the couch but didn’t bother to sit down. Something gnawed at the back of his mind—an itch he couldn’t ignore.

His mom had seemed calm, too calm, especially after their earlier argument. Why couldn’t she just tell him what she was up to?

His curiosity got the better of him. Quietly, he tiptoed into her bedroom, the air feeling heavier as if he were crossing an invisible line.

Sitting at her desk, he opened her laptop.

The screen glowed to life, and he hesitated for a moment before clicking on her email.

Most of it was unimportant—work notices, receipts, newsletters.

Then he spotted something unusual: an email confirming a delivery scheduled for his upcoming birthday.

His brow furrowed as he clicked it open.

His eyes widened. The delivery wasn’t a one-time thing. There were 14 more planned—one every year for the next 15 years.

“What the…?” he muttered, his heart racing.

Confused and uneasy, he dug deeper, scrolling through her emails until he found an address for a storage unit.

Beneath a pile of papers in her drawer, he found a small key labeled with the same address.

His pulse quickened as he grabbed the key and headed out the door.

The storage unit loomed ahead, its metal door glinting faintly under the dull light of the parking lot.

Charlie unlocked it with trembling hands. As the door creaked open, he froze.

Inside, more than a dozen neatly wrapped gifts were arranged in a row.

They were all different sizes, some small enough to fit in his palm, others big enough to hold a bike.

Each was topped with a handwritten note in his mom’s familiar, looping script.

He stepped inside, the scent of cardboard and faint perfume hanging in the air. He picked up one note and read:

“Happy 17th birthday, sweetheart. I love you more than anything in the world. I hope you like this computer. Study hard!”

His throat tightened as he set the note back. Why had she done this?

He moved to the first gift, a small box with two notes attached. Pulling off the first, his breath caught as he began to read:

“My dear son, if you’re reading this, I may no longer be with you. For years, I’ve known I had cancer, and no treatment has worked. My time is limited, but I didn’t want your birthdays to feel empty after I’m gone.”

The words blurred as tears filled his eyes. He wiped his face, but the tears kept coming, spilling onto the paper.

“That’s why I prepared these gifts ahead of time. They may not always be exactly what you want, but please open one each birthday and know I love you. Always.”

Charlie let out a shaky breath as he clutched the note. His chest ached in a way he’d never felt before.

He looked around the storage unit, the gifts that suddenly felt so much more than just objects.

They were pieces of her love, her effort to stay with him even when she couldn’t.

He gently placed the note back, closed the door, and leaned against it for a moment.

His heart was heavy, but it was full of something else too—a deeper understanding of what his mom had done for him.

The drive home was quiet. The world outside blurred, but his mind raced with emotions. He didn’t care about a car anymore.

What mattered now was something far greater.

Charlie stepped quietly into the living room, his shoes scuffing softly against the wooden floor.

His mom, Alice, was perched on the couch, a book resting in her lap.

She was smiling faintly, her eyes scanning the pages, completely unaware of the emotional storm that had just swept over her son.

Charlie hesitated in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His eyes were red, swollen from crying, and his face held a mix of fear and heartbreak.

Alice looked up, her smile fading as she took in his expression. Alarm spread across her face.

“Mom!” he choked out, his voice breaking as he rushed across the room. He threw his arms around her, clinging to her tightly.

“Sweetheart, tell me what’s going on,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. She stroked his back gently, trying to calm him. “How can I help?”

Charlie pulled back slightly, his hands trembling as he wiped at his face.

“I know, Mom. I went to the storage unit,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alice stiffened, her eyes widening.

“What? Why? What were you doing there?” she asked, a hint of panic creeping into her tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlie cried, his voice breaking again.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Alice took a deep breath, her lips quivering.

“There’s nothing, Charlie. I’m so sorry,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“No, Mom, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“I’ve been such a terrible son. I don’t need a car or any gifts. None of that matters. I just want you to be with me.”

“Charlie…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Please, Mom,” he begged, his voice desperate.

“I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I love you!”

Alice pulled him close again, her own tears spilling over now.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” she said, her voice breaking as she held him tightly.

The room was quiet except for their soft cries, their embrace a fragile but powerful moment of love and understanding.

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