Old Woman Brought Son’s Favorite Pastry to His Grave & Found Note Saying ‘Thank You’ upon Her Return – Story of the Day

For Nancy her son Henry was everything, she never imagined her life without him. It had been 23 years since the horrible accident that took Henry’s life. Every year on that day, she took his favorite pie to his grave to honor his memory. But this year, everything was about to change.

For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, never missed a single day on this date. She baked her late son’s favorite pie and took it to his grave every year since.

The pie, a simple yet delicious apple and cinnamon creation, had been Henry’s favorite since childhood.

The scent of apples and cinnamon brought back memories of when Henry was little, running into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the pie.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

It was his favorite dessert, and baking it had become a tradition they both cherished.

Since Henry’s tragic accident at 17, this ritual had been Nancy’s way of keeping his memory alive.

It gave her a sense of connection to him, like she was still doing something special for her boy. Losing him had been the hardest thing she had ever gone through. The pain of that day never left her.

Even though the years had passed, her grief remained, only softened by time and the small comfort this tradition brought her.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

On this particular day, just like every year before, Nancy carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the graveyard.

The weight of the dish felt heavier, as it always did when she walked toward Henry’s resting place. The grave was neat and covered in flowers, a sign of how much he was still loved.

The stone had become smoother over the years, as she had often run her fingers over it, lost in her memories.

Nancy knelt, placing the pie gently on the gravestone. Her heart ached as she began to speak, her voice quiet, as though Henry might somehow hear her.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Henry, I hope you’re at peace, my love. I miss you every day. I baked your favorite pie again. Remember how we used to bake it together? You’d always sneak a taste before it was done.”

She smiled, but her eyes were misty with tears. “I wish we could do that one more time.”

The familiar sorrow welled up inside her, but Nancy had learned over the years to push through the tears.

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For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She wiped her eyes quickly and managed a small smile. After a few more moments of silence, she kissed her fingers and touched the top of the gravestone as she said her quiet goodbye.

Then, with a heavy but comforted heart, she turned and walked away, knowing she’d be back next year, just like always.

The next day, as part of her routine, Nancy made her way back to Henry’s grave to clean up the remains of the pie.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Usually, by the time she returned, the pie was either untouched or spoiled by the weather, a quiet reminder of her son’s absence.

She had always found it a bittersweet comfort, knowing the pie stayed where she left it as if waiting for him.

But today, as she approached the grave, something felt different. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that the plate was clean—completely empty. For a moment, she stood frozen in disbelief.

Then, she noticed something else. Resting on the plate was a small piece of paper, folded in half.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Nancy’s hands trembled as she picked up the note. Her breath caught in her throat as she unfolded it.

The handwriting was shaky, as though whoever had written it had struggled to form the letters. The simple words read: “Thank you.”

Her heart pounded with confusion and anger.

“Who would take Henry’s pie?” she muttered under her breath, clutching the note tightly. “This was for my son. No one had the right to touch it!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Her private ritual, her way of honoring and remembering her son, had been invaded by a stranger.

She felt violated, as if someone had stolen a piece of her grief.

With her emotions swirling—part outrage, part confusion—Nancy left the cemetery, her mind set on finding the person who had taken her son’s pie. She had to know who had done this, and why.

Determined to catch the culprit, Nancy decided she would take matters into her own hands. She couldn’t let someone continue to disturb the way she honored Henry. So, she devised a plan.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

That night, she baked another of Henry’s favorite pies, the same apple and cinnamon recipe she had been making for over two decades.

The next morning, with renewed resolve, she placed the freshly baked pie on Henry’s grave, just like before, but this time she wasn’t leaving.

She found a large oak tree nearby and hid behind it, close enough to see the grave but far enough to not be noticed.

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For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The warm aroma of the pie drifted through the air, filling the quiet cemetery.

Time passed slowly as Nancy watched and waited, her heart racing in anticipation.

An hour later, she spotted movement. A small figure cautiously approached the grave. Nancy squinted, leaning forward to get a better look.

It wasn’t the greedy thief she had imagined. No, this was something entirely different.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

A young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt smudged on his face, moved toward the pie with hesitant steps.

Nancy’s heart tightened as she watched him. The boy didn’t immediately take the pie.

Instead, he knelt by the grave and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small scrap of paper and a dull pencil. His hand trembled as he carefully scribbled something on the paper, his brow furrowed with concentration.

It was clear the boy struggled with writing, but he took his time, making sure each word was legible.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Nancy’s heart softened as she saw him write “Thank you” on the paper, just like before. He wasn’t a thief. He wasn’t someone disrespecting Henry’s memory. He was just a hungry child, grateful for the kindness of a pie left behind.

The anger that had once consumed Nancy melted away in an instant. She realized this boy wasn’t stealing; he was surviving. He was in need, and her son’s favorite pie had somehow brought him comfort.

As the boy began to pick up the pie, his small hands shaking, Nancy stepped out from her hiding spot.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The rustle of leaves under her feet made him freeze, wide-eyed. Startled, he dropped the pie, and it tumbled onto the grass. His face paled, and he backed away, looking terrified.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry!” the boy cried, his voice trembling with panic. “I was just so hungry, and the pie was so good. Please don’t be mad.”

Nancy’s heart softened instantly. The sight of him—thin, dirty, and scared—erased any trace of anger she had felt before.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She knelt beside him, speaking gently, her voice as comforting as she could make it. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you, Where are your parents?” she said, her tone soothing. The boy stayed silent and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked another question understanding that the boy had nowhere to go.

“Jimmy,” he muttered, still avoiding her eyes, ashamed of what he had done.

“Well, Jimmy,” Nancy smiled softly, trying to reassure him, “it’s okay. You don’t have to steal pies. If you’re hungry, all you had to do was ask.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jimmy looked up at her, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. “I didn’t mean to steal,” he said, his voice small and shaky. “I just… I don’t get to eat much, and that pie was the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Nancy’s heart ached for him, her mind flooded with thoughts of how different this boy’s life must be.

The hunger in his eyes reminded her of her own son, Henry, when he would eagerly wait for that first bite of her freshly baked pie.

But Henry never had to worry about where his next meal would come from. Jimmy, on the other hand, looked like he had been living with hunger for a long time.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Come with me,” Nancy said after a moment of thought. She stood up and reached out her hand to him. “I’ll bake you a fresh pie, just for you.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust his own ears. “Really?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of hope and doubt.

Nancy nodded, her heart filled with a strange but comforting warmth. “Yes, really. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Slowly, Jimmy reached out and took Nancy’s hand.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

She led him back to her home, the boy walking beside her in silence, his eyes darting around as if he wasn’t sure if this was all real. Nancy’s heart swelled with the thought of what she was about to do.

Baking had always been her way of expressing love, and now, after years of baking for a son she could no longer see, she was about to bake for someone who truly needed it.

When they reached her cozy kitchen, Nancy set to work, rolling out the dough, slicing the apples, and adding the perfect amount of cinnamon—just as she had done so many times before.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jimmy watched her quietly from the corner of the kitchen, his eyes wide as he followed every move she made.

The smell of the pie began to fill the room, warm and comforting, like a hug from a long-lost friend.

Once the pie was baked, Nancy placed it in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“This one’s all for you.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. But then he grabbed a slice and took a bite. His face lit up with joy, his eyes sparkling as he chewed.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“This is the best pie I’ve ever had,” he said, his mouth still full. He ate with such happiness that it brought tears to Nancy’s eyes.

She watched him in silence, thinking about how something as simple as a pie could bring so much comfort to someone.

As Jimmy devoured the warm slices with obvious delight, Nancy couldn’t help but think of Henry.

She had always dreamed of seeing her son eat his favorite pie again, of watching him enjoy it the way he used to when he was a child.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

But now, in some strange and unexpected way, she was sharing it with another boy who needed it just as much.

Watching Jimmy eat, Nancy felt a deep sense of peace wash over her. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be.

Maybe fate had brought Jimmy into her life for a reason. By feeding him, by offering him kindness when he needed it most, she was honoring Henry’s memory in a way she had never imagined.

For the first time in years, Nancy felt that her grief had led her to something beautiful—a connection, a purpose that gave new meaning to her life.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Maybe, just maybe, this was Henry’s way of sending her a message—that love and kindness should always find their way back to those in need.

Nancy smiled as she watched Jimmy finish the last slice of pie, her heart full of warmth and gratitude.

She had found an unexpected connection in the most unlikely place, and it filled her soul in a way that nothing else had in years.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Martha was always quiet and smiling. No matter how hard or small the task, she was always ready to help. One of her colleagues, Chelsea, often took advantage of Martha’s kind nature by asking her to do her work for her. But this time, Chelsea unintentionally did Martha a favor.

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My Wife and I Hadn’t Spoken in 10 Years Until I Found Out She Was Getting Married Again – Story of the Day

My runaway bride reappeared ten years later in heels and a power suit, demanding I sign our divorce papers like we were just neighbors with unfinished business.

I consider myself a loner. Honestly, I still have a wife. She had just run away from our wedding ten years before.

Every year, I get the same envelope from her. New law firm name, new initials, glossy folder — just the way she likes it — a true aesthete, even in divorce proceedings.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I open it, read halfway through, sigh, and stash it in the drawer. There’s a whole collection, almost like a calendar, for every year of our “fake marriage.”

That morning, as usual, I was cleaning the barn. The snow had melted, the ground was soft, and the tractor refused to start again. My glove was torn; the dog had buried the other boot somewhere.

All, just as it should be. Quiet. Peaceful. The air smelled of fresh grass and smoke. I love that — it smells like life. Real life.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I reached into the metal mailbox. An envelope. Gold initials. Oh, something new. She switched firms. Progress.

“Well, hello, Mel.”

The dog barked. We understood each other without words those days.

“Would you sign it, Johnny?” I asked my dog, sitting down on the porch with my coffee.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

He sneezed. Wise dog. While I was thinking, Billy dropped by. My childhood friend, a farmer who always smells like apples and diesel fuel.

“So, she sent you another ‘love letter’?” he smirked, setting a basket of fresh bread on the step.

“Yep. Volume Ten. Might auction them off someday.”

“Still not gonna sign?”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Nope. I’ve got a principle. If you want to end something — come and say it. No need to yell. Just be honest.”

Billy sighed, gave me a look like he wanted to say something — then changed his mind.

“I’ll get going. Looks like rain’s coming, and I didn’t bring a cover.”

“You’re wearing a leather jacket, Billy.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“That’s not a cover — it’s fashion.”

And he left, leaving me with my coffee, my dog, and yet another farewell letter.

I went back inside. Everything is in place. I tossed more logs into the stove. Scratched the dog behind the ear and turned on the radio — the only thing that hasn’t abandoned me over the years.

And then, I heard the sound.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

First — a low engine hum. Then — the familiar squeak of suitcase wheels. Then — high heels crunching on gravel. I stepped onto the porch. And saw her.

Melanie. Her hair was a bit shorter, but her eyes were the same. She had that look — like we saw each other yesterday, even though it’s been ten years.

“Hi, Jake.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I smiled. But something inside me clenched.

“Well. Finally decided to come and ask for an autograph in person?”

***

Melanie stepped across the threshold. Her eyes scanned the wedding photo on the mantel.

“You still keep that?” she nodded toward the frame.

“Yep. Nice photo. And the frame isn’t cheap either.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Her gaze drifted past the mantel to the plaid throw blanket on the armchair. It was the same one we used to fight over on rainy nights. Her fingers brushed it gently and then paused.

Melanie turned toward the kitchen shelves, where old jam jars stood in a neat row.

“Is that… blueberry?”

“Yeah. From that summer when the berries went wild behind the barn.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Melanie gave the faintest nod, but her eyes glistened before she looked away. Then she straightened her posture, smoothed her sleeve, and reached for her briefcase.

She sat at the table and pulled out the documents.

“Jake, I’m serious. My wedding’s in two months. I need everything signed.”

I sat down across from her.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“The groom wants to make sure you’re officially single?”

“He thinks I’m single. So don’t make this harder than it is.”

“Have you ever been honest with me, Mel?”

“Oh, don’t start.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Fine. Not starting. Just listening.”

She unfolded the papers and laid them out in front of me. I glanced at them.

“Old version. Outdated. Doesn’t even mention the farm.”

“Well, I thought…”

“That nothing had changed? Big surprise, huh?”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

She flared.

“Jake, I didn’t come here for your passive-aggressive lectures. I came because I’m tired of playing silent. I want to end this like an adult.”

“An adult comes sooner than ten years later. An adult doesn’t run off the night before the honeymoon and hide behind envelopes.”

She stood up. Her hands were trembling.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“If it’s money you want — just say so. How much?”

“Money?” I laughed. “You think I waited ten years for a payout?”

“Then why, Jake?! Why haven’t you signed?”

“Because you still haven’t said why you ran. I have principles.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, Jake, it’s been years. Everything’s changed.”

I stood.

“Yeah, it has. I got my life together. Built something. A business. And by the way, I earned everything I had while we were still married. Officially. Legally. Even the lakeside lot. And those two cow-show trophies? Still during our marriage.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

She stared at me silently.

“By law, half of it is yours,” I said. “But I’m not handing it over to someone who only dared to mail things once a year.”

“You… you’re blackmailing me?”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“No. I’m giving you a choice. I’ll sign if you formally waive any claim. At a notary. All legal. But we’ll need to update the paperwork. That takes time.”

She sat back down. “Fine. How long?”

“A week. Maybe two. This isn’t New York. Around here, the internet runs through a tree.”

“Then I’m staying. Technically, it’s my house too.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Technically — yes,” I sighed. “But you’re cooking dinner. I’m allergic to your flower petal salads.”

“And I’m allergic to dust and male ego.”

We stared at each other for a few long seconds. Then, I walked off toward the pantry to break eye contact. Melanie climbed upstairs — offended, with her briefcase under her arm like she’d come here to win, not to talk.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I knew she wouldn’t survive that silence.

Truthfully, the papers were just an excuse to keep her here a little longer. So I could finally knock some sense into our marriage.

Because I still loved that infuriating woman. Whoever she had become.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

***

Days on the farm passed quickly, but our silence moved painfully slowly.

Melanie spent most of her days in town, hunting for a decent Wi-Fi signal. Meanwhile, I cleaned the house and the yard and planted flowers on the porch.

Billy dropped by one afternoon.

“This place hasn’t looked this good since your wedding, pal.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, I just… finally had some time for myself.”

“Careful, someone might fall for you.”

“Cut it out. Not Melanie. That’s long gone.”

Billy tilted his head and looked at me like I’d just said the sky was green.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Jake, don’t be a fool. She’s here. That means something.”

“She’s here because she wants a signature.”

“Then sign it. Or don’t. But for the love of bacon, talk to her. Ask her to dinner. Do something other than fixing fences and mumbling at your dog.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

That evening, I found Melanie in the pantry. She was holding my box of documents.

“What are you doing?” I asked, not even raising my voice.

“Looking for tea. But I stumbled on this.”

“You always break into places where you’re not invited?”

“And you always hide what matters instead of talking about it?”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“I wasn’t hiding. I was postponing. It wasn’t time yet.”

“Not time?! I’m getting married, Jake! Married! To a real, present, grown man!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure he will be thrilled to hear his bride was digging through her legal husband’s pantry.”

“You just can’t accept that I left! That I changed! You hold on to the past like an old jacket that hasn’t fit in years!”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“And you hold on to some fantasy version of yourself until you have to look yourself in the eye. Have you ever actually thought about what you did? I can’t believe the Melanie I loved could sleep at night after running away like that!”

“Oh, I slept just fine! I didn’t have to crawl under three blankets because someone never fixed the windows!”

“You never said anything bothered you! Not once!”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, maybe because it was obvious?! You never asked what I wanted! I wanted more! A career! The city lights!”

“You could’ve told me. We could’ve sold this place and moved to New York together.”

“Oh yeah? And what about the money you poured into building this farm the day before the wedding? You think I didn’t see the contract? That was the final straw, Jake! You said nothing.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“And you did? You said nothing, either! About your dreams, about the windows!”

“I’ve had enough! No wonder I ran. I haven’t even been able to answer my fiancé for two days because there’s no signal here!”

“Oh. You probably connected to the broken router. I have two — forgot to mention.”

“You! How dare you!”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

She slammed the pantry door. The house went black — total darkness.

“What was that?” I frowned.

“I… may have knocked that old switch.”

“That ‘old switch’ was the main breaker. It’s broken now. Congratulations, Mel, we’re in the dark.”

“Wonderful! Magical!” she shouted. “No light, no water, no reason to live!”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Let’s not overreact,” I muttered, grabbing a flashlight.

I headed outside and built a fire. Melanie sat on the bench, wrapped in my old flannel shirt. No makeup. Hair hastily tied up. For the first time in days, she looked real.

“You hungry?” I asked, skewering some chicken.

“Starving. But if you offer me canned beans, I’ll run to the nearest motel.”

“Barbecue. Real fire. Your dad’s old recipe, actually.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

She gave a slight nod.

“Mel…” I started but didn’t finish.

“Don’t. I don’t even know what to think. But it’s… peaceful here. Cozy, even. You’ve turned this place into something magical. I miss that in New York.”

“It’s not too late to stay. I always knew your soul was too wild and free for a city apartment, even if it’s a big one.”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I chuckled. “Yeah… I only realized that after I got everything I ever wanted.”

“Well, there are plenty of forests and fields out here to calm the rebel in you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I ran because I was scared I’d stay here forever. That my dreams would die under diapers, early mornings, and a farm you decided to build.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t going to make you a prisoner. I wanted to make you happy.”

We sat in silence. The fire crackled.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Then, Melanie suddenly laughed.

“Remember when I burned your favorite sweater?”

“It was hideous.”

“But warm!” she giggled. “And it smelled like you.”

“Melanie… All these years, I couldn’t understand… why? We were so in love. I still…”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Suddenly, headlights lit up the yard.

“You expecting someone?” I asked.

Melanie’s face went pale.

“No… No, it can’t be…”

Out stepped a tall man in a coat. Phone pressed to his ear. Slicked-back hair, judgmental stare. New York in human form.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Melanie! Finally, I found you!” he shouted. “What are you doing here with this…!”

Melanie opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off.

“You’ve got meetings this week. My assistant’s been trying to reach you. And my mother’s freaking out about the seating chart.”

“This…?” I raised an eyebrow. “This is her legal husband. For now.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

He looked from me to her.

“What is this?! Some kind of joke?!”

“Oh. Sorry,” I said dryly. “Thought you knew.”

“Melanie! Pack your things. We’re leaving. We have a wedding to plan. Did you forget?”

Melanie stood frozen. Speechless.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I calmly took a piece of grilled meat from the skewer, bit into it, and added,

“No rush, Mel. You’re hungry — eat first. And, sir… have a seat. Help yourself. The night’s just getting started.”

***

Packing was fast.

While Melanie was arguing with her fiancé in my yard, I sat quietly in my office, signing the papers. Calmly. Steadily. Only my hand trembled a little. Before she walked out the door, I handed her the documents.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“Here. It’s all official now.”

She looked down at them. Then at me. Her eyes dropped.

“I’m sorry… I have to go.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Her hand was already on the doorknob when I stepped toward her.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“But just tell me one thing. One simple thing.”

She froze.

“Is this really what you wanted? Are you truly happy?”

Silence.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

And she left. But I already knew the answer.

I sat on the porch with my dog, watching the fire burn down.

Suddenly, I understood… I couldn’t make the same mistake twice. Ten years ago, I let her walk away. This time, I am going to fight. I grabbed my pickup keys and tore off into the night.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I took the shortcut I’d built over the years — a road that led straight to town and the highway. It turns out it wasn’t built in vain.

Thirty minutes later, I burst into the airport like a madman.

The flight to New York… had already taken off. Too late. She’s gone. Again.

“Jake?”

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I turned around. Melanie stood there. Backpack slung over her shoulder, with tears in her eyes.

“I thought you’d flown…”

“And I thought one time running was enough. Twice would just be stupid.”

“And what stopped you?”

“The dog. I forgot to say goodbye to Johnny,” she said with a tiny grin.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“The dog?” I laughed. “And here I thought it was my world-famous barbecue.”

“I realized halfway through the airport that I’ve never laughed with him. Not really. We make sense on paper. But we don’t… feel.”

We drove home together. On the way, she fell asleep leaning on my shoulder — like she used to back in college. On the porch, she pulled the divorce papers from her bag.

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For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

She tore them in half. Then again. And again.

“Divorce officially canceled. But only if you promise never to wear sweaters in that color again. And help me move my stuff.”

“Man’s honor.”

The dog growled softly. And we walked inside. It was warm there. And quiet. And no one was in a rush to leave ever again.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I spent $30,000 trying to become a Mom, only to hear my mother-in-law call my adopted kids “fake” in front of guests. I stayed quiet then. But not for long.

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