My Grandson’s Paper Airplane Revealed My DIL’s Secret That Got Me Banned from Seeing Him — Story of the Day

I had been playing by their rules, respecting their wishes, but that day, I couldn’t stay away. I stepped out of my car, my breath shaky as I looked up at the house.

The second-floor window was slightly open. And there he was. Timmy. His small face pressed against the glass, his fingers smudging the window as he waved eagerly.

“Grandma!” His lips formed the word, his voice muffled through the glass.

I barely lifted my hand to wave back before the front door creaked open. Olivia. My DIL.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought Timmy something. Just a toy.”

She barely glanced at it.

“We’ve discussed this before, Mrs. Roberts. Timmy doesn’t need unnecessary excitement.”

“I am his grandmother. A toy from me isn’t going to harm him.”

“This is John’s decision,” she stated simply, using my own son’s name like a weapon. “We agreed that some distance would be best.”

And just like that, the door clicked shut in my face.

Slowly, I placed the gift on the doorstep. Then, something brushed my shoulder. A flicker of white tumbled through the air. I caught it just before it hit the ground.

A small, crumpled paper airplane.

Hands trembling, I bent down and carefully unfolded the paper. My eyes scanned the tiny, uneven writing inside.

I read the words again. And again. A chill crawled down my spine. I glanced up, but the window was empty. Timmy disappeared.

***

“Grandma, I want to see you. Mom says you’re bad, but I don’t believe her. I know her secret. I’ll hide it in the dinosaur book. Love, Timmy.”

I sat in my kitchen, staring at the note, my thumb tracing the uneven edges of the folded paper.

What can Timmy possibly know? And if Olivia truly has a secret, how dangerous is it to get involved?

Mary, my oldest friend, stirred her peppermint tea, watching me over the rim of her cup.

“This could be a setup,” she said finally, tapping her spoon against the ceramic. “She threw you out, and now suddenly the kid wants to reveal some grand mystery? Sounds a little too convenient.”

“Timmy doesn’t lie,” I said, gripping the note tighter.

Mary frowned, setting her cup down with a soft clink. “You really don’t know why your son cut you off, do you?”

“He said he was disappointed in me,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“He claims the money I used to buy my house was meant for Timmy’s education. But we never discussed that. It was my money, my savings. And suddenly, John told me I betrayed him.”

Mary leaned forward, resting her elbows on the kitchen table. The smell of peppermint tea curled in the air between us, but I barely noticed.

“So let’s go over this again. Everything was fine until you bought the house?”

“Yes. Before that, we weren’t exactly close.”

“And then?” Mary prompted.

“Then everything changed. At first, they just kept putting off visiting me. One excuse after another: Timmy had school, John was swamped with work, Olivia had a ‘prior engagement’ whatever that meant.”

“And they never gave you a real reason?”

“No. But I didn’t push. I figured adjusting to a new place could take time, so I started going to them instead.”

Mary nodded, tapping a finger against the table. “Right. And at first, they didn’t stop you?”

“Not at first.”

“But after a while, it was like they didn’t want me there either. Whenever I’d visit, Olivia would keep glancing at the clock, like she was counting down the minutes until I left. John was polite, but… distant. It felt like I was intruding in my own son’s home.”

“And then the last time you went…”

I swallowed hard, the memory still fresh.

“It was Timmy’s birthday. I showed up with a cake and gifts, like I always did. But when John opened the door, he just… looked at me. Like I was someone he barely recognized. And then he said…”

My throat tightened.

“Mom, you are acting strangely. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I think it’s best if Timmy keeps some distance for now.”

“Did you ask him what he meant?”

“I tried,” I said, shaking my head. “I told him I didn’t understand, that I hadn’t done anything wrong. He just kept repeating that it ‘wasn’t a good time’ and that I should respect their space.”

“And now Timmy’s sending you notes about a secret. Whatever it is, he knows something.”

I looked down at the small paper airplane in my hands. “Then I need to find out what.”

“Then there’s a missing piece here. This isn’t just about the house.”

She was right. Something didn’t add up. And whatever it was, it had cost me my family.

***

The library had always been Timmy’s favorite place, our little ritual—curling up in the children’s section, reading about his beloved dinosaurs, his tiny fingers tracing the T. rex on the cover.

The following week, I came to the library every afternoon, fingers skimming along the very same book, waiting, searching. Then, after days of patience, I finally found it.

Tucked between the pages was a note:

“I heard Mom talking about the money you borrowed from Dad. Maybe if you give it back, we can see each other again. Grandma, I know you’re good. I miss you. Timmy.”

The world seemed to tilt. My hands trembled as I quickly wrote my response. Then, I folded it, tucked it into the book, and walked away.

I had made a mistake by staying silent for so long. But finally, I was ready.

***

The mall buzzed with energy. Children squealed with delight, darting between towering dinosaur figures. Their parents trailed behind, juggling oversized shopping bags and half-eaten snacks.

My eyes scanned the crowd. I hoped Timmy found my note and did the instructions. And then I saw them.

John walked beside Timmy. Timmy spotted me first, his eyes lighting up. He hesitated, though, glancing up at his father, seeking approval. Then he ran to me.

“Granny! I did everything you’d asked me in the secret note!”

John’s gaze followed his son, and the moment he saw me, his expression darkened. He came to a slow stop, his jaw tightening.

“Mom? What are you doing here? What note are you both talking about?”

I stepped forward, my pulse racing. “I know about the money.”

John stiffened. “So, you’re finally admitting it?”

Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut through the din.

“Oh, and you’re here too.”

Olivia. She approached, her smile polished and sharp as glass, a pink cloud of cotton candy in one hand.

“I had a feeling Timmy wasn’t telling the full story when he begged his dad to come alone,” she said lightly, though her grip on the candy stick was too tight.

I ignored her, my focus locked on my son. “John, did you ever check where that money actually went?”

John hesitated.

“You said you needed it for treatment. I wouldn’t have asked for it back if that was true. But Dr. Collins has never treated you for anything serious.”

His eyes darkened. “I trusted you. And then you bought a house.”

My breath hitched. “What? John, I never took your money! And I… I never had any health problems.”

“But the voicemail… It was your voice, Mom. You left me a message. You said you were struggling, that you didn’t want to worry me, but that you needed help.”

“John, I never asked you for money. And I certainly never left a message like that.”

John’s gaze snapped to Olivia.

“Did you give Mom the money? That day, I was swamped with work, so I gave you the cash to pass to her.”

For the first time, Olivia faltered.

“I… well, yes,” she stammered, licking her lips. “I mean, I handled it, like you asked.”

Timmy stepped forward, his little fingers fumbling with the zipper of his backpack.

“Mom, maybe changed the money for these papers and then forgot.”

With that, he pulled out a thick stack of receipts and crumpled checks, his small hands struggling to hold them all.

“Timmy,” John said sharply, reaching for the papers. “Give me those.”

Olivia’s hand darted out, but John stopped her with a sharp flick of his wrist. His voice was low, dangerous.

“Not now, Olivia.”