My wife started to distance herself from my daughter and me. One day, she left an envelope and disappeared

When my wife started pulling away from me and our daughter, I couldn’t understand why. My heartbreaking story is about how someone can love you so much that they try to protect you by all means. Read on to see how we traversed secrets, innocent lies, and heartache to unite as a family.

There’s something deeply unsettling about not knowing the whole story, especially when it involves the people you love the most. Okay, let me backtrack a bit, my name is Kevin, and Levine and I have been married for 15 lovely years.

We share one amazing child, Emily, who is still quite young and attending school. My wife and daughter mean the world to me, and I believe we have a great family. However, around six months ago, Levine started withdrawing and avoiding me and our daughter.

For months, I watched as my formerly loving and caring wife grew increasingly distant by the day. What started as small changes in her demeanor escalated into full-blown avoidance. Her smiles are fewer and her nights spent awake longer.

I even sometimes caught glimpses of her crying in the bathroom more than once. But every time I approached her about it, she brushed off my concerns with a shaky “I’m fine.” Yet, she wasn’t. And deep down, I knew it.

This unspoken “thing” hung over me and our daughter heavily, causing our family relationships to start cracking.

“Levine, please talk to me,” I pleaded one evening, finding her again at the window, staring into the backyard. Her back was to me, her shoulders tense.

“I just need some air, Kevin. That’s all,” she murmured, her voice hardly above a whisper.

I stepped closer, my concern deepening. “It’s been months of ‘just needing air.’ You’re scaring me, baby. You’re scaring Emily.”

She turned then, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I can’t, not yet…” her voice trailed off as she turned back to the window, leaving me standing helplessly behind her.

I returned home yesterday from picking Emily up at school to find the house eerily silent. The morning Levine left was like any other, except she didn’t say goodbye. My stay-at-home wife wasn’t anywhere when we arrived.

However, on the kitchen table amidst the usual clutter of mail and Emily’s school books that she had come with, I found THIS DREADFUL ENVELOPE. My name scrawled across it in Levine’s familiar handwriting.

My heart sank to my stomach as I tore it open with trembling hands. Inside, her letter lay, written in the same shaky hand that had addressed the envelope. As I opened it, tears streamed down my face as I found out what she had been going through all along:

“My dearest husband,

If you’re reading this, then I am already gone. I couldn’t bear to tell you in person, for fear I would never be able to leave. I have been diagnosed with stage 3 cancer, and the doctors are not hopeful. It is my deepest fear to become a burden to you and our beautiful Emily.

I want to protect you both from the pain of watching me deteriorate. I love you both more than life itself, and it’s because I love you that I need to do this. Please understand that this is the hardest choice I’ve ever made, but it’s made out of love. I am at Clear Life Center, a quiet hospice two states away. Please forgive me.

With all my love, always,

Levine.”

Tears blurred my vision as I tried to compose myself. My lovely, beautiful wife had chosen solitude over the anguish she believed her illness would cause us. If I thought I loved her before, at that moment I realized I loved her MORE THAN EVER.

Without a second thought, I packed a bag. I told Emily, “My baby, mommy’s not feeling too well, and we are going on a little trip to see her, okay?” My brave little girl with a worried face asked, “Is she going to be okay, Daddy?”

Not wanting to lie to her, I replied, “She’s going to feel much better when she sees us, I promise.” We drove straight to the facility my wife mentioned, desperate to be with her, regardless of her wishes to shield us.

When we arrived and I found her, the reality of her condition hit hard. Levine was frail, a shadow of the vibrant woman I had fallen in love with. Yet, when she saw us, her eyes lit up with a mix of joy and sorrow, and she instantly looked better, than I had envisioned!

“Kevin, Emily,” she murmured, reaching out weakly.

“Mom, why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped…” Emily sobbed, clutching her mother’s hand. “I thought… I thought it would be easier this way,” Levine whispered, tears streaming down her face.

“We needed to be here, with you. No matter what,” I said, gripping her hand.

We spent those last weeks of her illness by her side, achieving her life goals before her death. Whenever she was strong enough, we went out for walks, well, she was in a wheelchair. She got to tell Emily all the things she wished her to know before her passing.

“I’ll always love you, my sweet baby girl. And I want you to know that I will be with you in spirit for all the days of your life,” Levine told Emily as they embraced, shedding more tears.

We talked, laughed, and sometimes sat in silence, savoring the precious moments we had left. Emily read her favorite books aloud, and I held her mother’s hand every night until she fell asleep.

My darling wife passed away holding my hand. Emily curled up beside her, a peaceful expression on her face. Her last days were not filled with the pain and suffering she had feared but with love and the warmth of her family.

In the wake of her passing, I’ve come to realize the profound strength it took for her to make the decision she did. Levine’s act, initially so incomprehensible to me, was one of selfless love. The kind that sees beyond immediate pain to the eventual peace it can bring to those left behind.

Now, as Emily and I adjust to a world without Levine, we do so with a deep understanding of her last gift to us. Not just the envelope that explained her absence, but the enduring presence of her love.

A love that, like the subtle fragrance of her favorite flowers, lingers around us, invisible yet palpable. It remained a gentle reminder that even in their absence, love remains.

A Wealthy Man Pretended to Be a Waiter and Invited a Woman on a Date to the Restaurant He Owns

When wealthy restaurateur Nate meets down-to-earth Beth at a gas station, her charm catches him off guard. Intrigued but wary from past heartbreak, Nate invites her on a date with a twist. Will his charade of being a waiter at a restaurant he owns reveal her true intentions?

Neon paint splatters covered my clothes, and I didn’t realize how ridiculous I looked until I pulled up to the gas station. I stepped inside, feeling sore and a little dazed from an intense paintball match, and that’s when I saw her.

The cashier.

A cashier at a gas station | Source: Midjourney

A cashier at a gas station | Source: Midjourney

Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few wisps escaping around her face. When she noticed me and smiled, I swear my heart somersaulted.

“If the Terminator walked in right now,” she teased, “he definitely wouldn’t ask for your clothes.”

I blinked. For a second, I didn’t know whether to laugh or melt into the floor.

“I… I was just playing paintball,” I replied sheepishly. My cheeks flamed up in what I could only hope wasn’t an obvious blush.

A shy man | Source: Midjourney

A shy man | Source: Midjourney

She grinned wider, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Really? That was my first guess.” She looked me up and down, making a show of inspecting the damage the paint had done to my clothes. “Did you win, or…?”

“Uh, yeah. My team won.” I shrugged, trying to appear casual, though it was hard to feel composed under her playful gaze.

“Well, congrats, soldier. Need a victory snack?” She winked at me and nodded at the candy shelf, her tone still dripping with mock seriousness.

A woman working as a gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

A woman working as a gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t help but laugh. This woman — Beth, her name tag read — was a breath of fresh air. I don’t know what came over me, but the next thing I knew, I blurted out, “Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?”

She blinked, the smile fading slightly as surprise flickered in her eyes. For a moment, I feared I’d misread the whole thing. But then she tilted her head and her grin returned to full force.

“Alright. Sure… just no paintball, okay?”

A grinning gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

A grinning gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney

We exchanged numbers, and I walked out of that gas station with a date to look forward to. I was excited, but it didn’t take long for the anxiety to set in.

I’ve been burned too many times before. Women were more interested in the idea of Nate, the wealthy restaurateur than in Nate, the man who liked obscure indie bands and reading Manga. So, I devised a little test. Maybe it was crazy, but I had to know.

I invited Beth to my upscale Italian restaurant downtown. It was the crown jewel of my empire, and would now also be the stage on which I’d expose Beth’s true intentions.

The interior of an upmarket restaurant | Source: Midjourney

The interior of an upmarket restaurant | Source: Midjourney

I watched from across the room as Beth entered in a simple red dress that made her look effortlessly beautiful. The staff already knew the plan, so I hurried over to greet her, my heart pounding.

“Hey,” I said, guiding her to a corner table. “I’m so glad you came. I saved us the best table.”

Beth smiled, glancing around. “Oh? You come here so often you know which table is the best?”

A woman speaking to her male companion | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking to her male companion | Source: Midjourney

I chuckled as I sat across from her, fidgeting with the napkin. “Yeah, I work here. Just finished my shift, actually.”

Her eyes flickered with surprise, but her trademark grin quickly replaced it. “Really? I’ve always wanted to be a waitress. Maybe I’ll jump in for a shift after dinner.”

I laughed nervously, watching her reaction closely. “I don’t recommend it. The pay’s awful, and the hours? Brutal.”

As if on cue, one of my waiters approached with menus, winking subtly at me.

A man seated at a table with his date | Source: Midjourney

A man seated at a table with his date | Source: Midjourney

“Good to see you, Nate. Still recovering from that lunch rush?” he asked, playing his part perfectly.

“Yeah, barely survived,” I said with a tight smile.

Dinner arrived, and soon we were talking and laughing like old friends. She told me about her love of books, and how she used to want to write, but ended up working at the gas station to help her mom out.

She was funny and quick-witted. Her humor caught me off guard at every turn and I was thoroughly charmed by her.

A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

Being with her felt… effortless.

As dessert approached, my restaurant manager, Tom, came over, looking furious. Of course, it was all part of the act, but Beth didn’t know that.

“Nate!” Tom snapped, glaring at me. “You skipped out on the last 15 minutes of your shift. What the hell? Get back to the kitchen and wash the dishes, or you’re fired!

Beth’s eyes went wide, and I could see the shock register.

A wide-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney

A wide-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney

Beth stood, her face softening with concern. “Hey, it’s okay. If you need to go, go. We can always—”

“I’m really sorry,” I cut in, feeling the weight of the lie. “I’ll have to finish up back there. I’ll, uh, text you later?”

“Sure,” she replied with a wink.

And with that, I excused myself, heading toward the kitchen, my mind racing. I needed time to think and to plan my next move, but I had barely been back there for two minutes when the kitchen door creaked open.

A staff entrance in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Pexels

A staff entrance in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Pexels

Beth slipped in, her face glowing with a mixture of amusement and determination.

“You haven’t started yet?” she teased, rolling up her sleeves. “Come on. Let’s wash these dishes together and then go for a walk on the pier.”

I stared at her, completely floored. How did I get so lucky? A flood of emotions swept over me. It was clear now that Beth really did like me, enough to wash a mountain of dirty dishes so we could continue our date at the pier… how was I going to tell her this was all a test?

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney

The dishes clinked together as we scrubbed side by side, our elbows occasionally bumping. Guilt stabbed at me each time Beth smiled at me like this was the most natural thing in the world — standing in the back of a high-end restaurant, washing dishes after a first date.

I couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, wondering how someone like her could be so unaffected by everything.

After we finished, Beth wiped her hands on her dress, completely unfazed by the water spots. She looked at me with a playful gleam in her eyes.

A smiling woman in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“Well, I can’t say I expected to end up elbow-deep in suds tonight, but it wasn’t half bad. So, what now? Are we walking to the pier, or are you making me clean the kitchen, too?”

I chuckled, but the sound caught in my throat. I had to come clean with her. It was now or never.

“Beth, I have to tell you something,” I said, my voice a little too serious for the moment.

She tilted her head, her smile fading just a bit. “Okay…?”

A woman smiling uncertainly | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling uncertainly | Source: Midjourney

I took a breath, the truth ready to burst out of me. “I’m not a waiter. Well, I used to be, but not anymore. I’m actually the owner of this place. I own this restaurant and two others in the city.”

Beth blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait… what?”

“The whole thing tonight was a setup,” I admitted, guilt creeping into my voice. “I wanted to see if you liked me for who I am, not for the money or the restaurant. I know it’s crazy, but I’ve been burned before, and didn’t want to risk it again.”

A guilty man | Source: Midjourney

A guilty man | Source: Midjourney

For a moment, Beth just stood there, her expression unreadable. My heart pounded in my chest as the silence stretched on. Then, she crossed her arms and gave me a long, searching look.

“So, let me get this straight,” she finally said, her tone carefully neutral. “You lied to me all night because you thought I might be… what? A gold digger?”

I winced. “It wasn’t like that. I just… I’ve had bad experiences. But I like you so much… I just didn’t want to mess this up.”

Her gaze softened a little, but there was still a hurt flicker in her eyes.

A woman in a kitchen with a hurt expression | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a kitchen with a hurt expression | Source: Midjourney

“So, you were testing me.”

“I know it sounds terrible, and it is,” I said quickly, stepping closer. “But I had to be sure you liked me for me.”

Beth stood quietly for a moment, processing. Then she shook her head with a small, incredulous laugh.

“So… did I pass your test?”

I nodded earnestly, feeling the weight of the night lift off my shoulders. “With flying colors.”

A serious man | Source: Midjourney

A serious man | Source: Midjourney

She smiled back, and her playfulness quickly returned. “Oh, and for the record — your restaurant’s food isn’t that great. Next time, we’re going somewhere else, somewhere we won’t end up washing dishes, okay?”

I laughed, the sound echoing through the empty kitchen. “You got it.”

Here’s another story: At a family outing, my mother-in-law switched my mild chicken for an extra-spicy option, leaving me humiliated in a crowded restaurant. As my mouth burned and Linda smirked, I decided to plan a dinner that would teach her a lesson she’d never forget!

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*