Just before her 17th birthday, Lila expected little from her stepmom Monica—maybe a card, maybe cold pancakes. What she didn’t expect was a pink funerary urn. Monica handed it over with a smirk, saying it was “symbolic.” Then came the real shock: Lila’s college fund had been used to start Monica’s dream salon.

Heartbroken, Lila ran upstairs, feeling utterly betrayed. Her dad had always promised that money was hers. For days, she avoided both him and Monica. The urn sat on her desk like a cruel joke—a symbol of everything she had lost. Her friends tried to cheer her up, but the hurt ran too deep.

Then came a note from Monica: “Meet me at the salon. No questions.” Against her better judgment, Lila went. She expected another letdown, but instead, found something else entirely. A new sign on the wall read: Dream Cuts: A Scholarship Fund in Honor of Sarah. Her mom.

It was all a setup. The fund was intact. The urn? A terribly executed metaphor. The salon’s profits would support college dreams—hers and others’. Monica hadn’t meant to steal Lila’s future; she was trying to honor her mother’s legacy. And just like that, the urn found new life—as a peace lily planter and a reminder that hope can grow from anything.