My Stepmom Gifted Me a Funerary Urn for My 17th Birthday

As Lila was ready to celebrate her 17th birthday, she received an unexpected and creepy gift from her stepmother: a pink funerary urn. Like the type you keep ashes in? Yes, that’s the one. But that’s not all! Lila learns that her college fund was given to Monica to open her salon. What will Lila do?

Let me tell you, I’ve been sitting on this one for a few days, just trying to make sense of what went down.

I always thought my stepmom, Monica, was the worst, though not Disney villain evil. She was the kind of person who talks over you, forgets your birthday, and calls you “kiddo” when you’re practically an adult.

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

But, what she pulled on my 17th birthday? It shattered whatever shaky truce we had.

At least, that’s what I thought. Turns out, things weren’t exactly what they seemed.

Here’s how it all went down.

My mom, Sarah, died when I was ten, and after that, it was just Dad and me. We were a solid team. The type of team that has pizza for dinner half the week, late-night movies, and this unspoken agreement that we’d always have each other’s backs.

Two boxes of pizza on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney

Then came Monica, about three years ago.

At first, she wasn’t horrible; she was just… there. Like a stray cat that never leaves, so you have no choice but to adopt it. Monica moved into our house, took over the bathroom with her fifty bottles of face serums and creams, and slowly pushed her way into my dad’s world.

Monica had big dreams of opening a hair salon, which was fine. I wasn’t against people having dreams. I had my own dreams waiting for me, but she treated me like I was just this annoying piece of furniture that came with the house.

A woman’s vanity | Source: Midjourney

Honestly, I was counting down the days until I could escape to college.

Dad had promised me since middle school that there was a college fund waiting for me.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” he told me. “Your mom and I put together the fund when you were five. There’s more than enough, and every year on your birthday and Christmas, I add more.”

A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you, Dad,” I said. “I just want to study and make something of myself, like Mom said.”

“You only have to worry about your grades, Lila,” he said. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Naturally, I worked my butt off in school, knowing that in a few years, I’d be out of here.

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

College was my golden ticket, and no one — not even Monica — would stand in my way.

At least, that’s what I thought.

On the morning of my 17th birthday, I came downstairs expecting the usual lukewarm effort. By lukewarm, I mean a sad card, some pancakes, and Monica forgetting my favorite syrup. Dad was at work, so it was just Mon and I.

A plate of pancakes and a card on a table | Source: Midjourney

She handed me a gift bag, which was already weird because Monica wasn’t exactly the thoughtful or sentimental type.

“Happy Birthday, kiddo,” she said, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles.

I wasn’t expecting much, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this.

I reached inside the bag and pulled out… an urn.

A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

A funerary urn.

You know, the kind that people store ashes in. Cold, heavy, and, well, pink. It was pink.

I just stared at it, my brain short-circuiting.

“What the hell is this?” I asked, holding the urn like it was cursed.

A pink funerary urn | Source: Midjourney

Monica leaned against the kitchen counter, smug as ever.

“It’s symbolic,” she said as if that explained anything.

“Symbolic of what?”

Monica’s grin widened.

A smiling woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“It’s time to bury your dreams of college, kiddo. Your dad and I talked about this, and we decided to put the college fund to better use.”

“Better use?” I asked, a cold shiver running through me.

“Yep. We’re investing it in my hair salon. College is a gamble, Lila. A business? That’s something real, sweetie.”

A hair salon being renovated | Source: Midjourney

She sipped her coffee like she’d just said the most reasonable thing in the world.

I was frozen in place, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. Had they really taken my future, everything I’d worked for, and sunk it into Monica’s salon dream?

“How could you do this?” I whispered.

Monica just smiled, a little too pleased with herself.

A shocked teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

“Life’s full of disappointments, kiddo. Better get used to it now,” she said.

Wow.

That was it. I was done. I ran upstairs, slamming the door behind me so hard that the walls shook.

I cried so hard it hurt. What else could I do? Everything I had been holding onto was gone, and the only person I thought I could count on, Dad, had let this happen.

An upset teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

My mom wanted me to get out and make something of myself. And now? It was all over.

The next few days were a blur. I didn’t speak to Monica or my dad unless I absolutely had to. Every time I looked at that stupid urn sitting on my desk, my stomach twisted.

I couldn’t even bring myself to throw it out. It felt like some kind of morbid evidence. Like proof of the betrayal I didn’t see coming.

A pink funerary urn on a desk | Source: Midjourney

At school, my friends tried to cheer me up.

“Maybe she thought it was funny, Lila,” my friend Kira said. “Like, who really knows what Monica is thinking?”

“And anyway, there’s nothing stopping you from throwing it out! Just do it! Don’t overthink it,” Mel said.

Three teenage girls | Source: Midjourney

But still, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Monica was prancing around, acting like she was the queen of the house, while I sat there with no future.

Then, a few days later, something strange happened.

When I got home from school, there was a note on my desk. Not in an envelope, just folded, with my name written in Monica’s messy handwriting.

A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

Meet me at the salon at 6 P.M. tonight. No questions. Just trust me. -M.

I almost laughed out loud. Trust her? Yeah, right.

But something about the note gnawed at me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to confront her one last time, tell her exactly what I thought of her.

Against my better judgment, I decided to go.

A note on a table | Source: Midjourney

When I got to the salon, the lights were off, and the front door was unlocked.

I hesitated for a second, wondering if this was some elaborate prank. But curiosity got the best of me.

I stepped inside, and there they were. Monica and my dad, standing side by side, both grinning widely.

“Surprise!” Monica shouted, throwing her arms up like this was the happiest moment of her life.

The entrance to a salon | Source: Midjourney

I just stared at them, completely lost.

“What is this?”

Monica stepped aside, and that’s when I saw it — a shiny, brand-new sign mounted on the wall.

Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah

I blinked, feeling like the room was tilting on its axis.

A hair salon | Source: Midjourney

“What… what is this?”

Monica smiled, but it wasn’t her usual smug grin. This one was softer, almost real.

“We didn’t use your college fund, kiddo. It’s all still there. The salon? It’s not just for me. It’s for you, too. For other kids like you, too.”

I couldn’t breathe.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

“But then, why would you make me think otherwise?” I asked.

Monica winced, putting her hand on her head.

“Yeah, so, the urn thing… That was not my best idea. I thought it’d be motivational, like, bury the past and embrace the future. You know? But it turns out that it was just creepy.”

A woman with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney

I stared at her, speechless.

My dad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“We’ve been planning this for months, Lila,” he said. “Your mom always wanted to help kids get to college. This salon is going to fund scholarships. For you and for others in her name.”

“The salon has been my dream, Lila,” Monica said. “But it was never going to come at your expense. This way, a great portion of all our profits in the future will go to the fund.”

A smiling man | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what to say.

Or what to think.

Just that I felt a warm haze take over me.

Monica laughed softly.

“I’m not a monster, darling,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was trying to take over your mom’s role.”

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

For the first time in a long time, I smiled.

It wasn’t perfect, but things with Monica probably never would be. But, at that moment, standing in the middle of a salon named for my mom’s dream, I realized that she wasn’t trying to ruin my life.

She was trying to build something bigger than any of us.

A smiling teenage girl | Source: Midjourney

And somehow, against all odds, it felt like a new beginning.

And yeah, I kept the urn. But I planted white peace lilies in it, thinking it would be symbolic after all. And who knows, maybe I’ll take the urn to college.

What would you have done?