A woman turns down her ex-lover’s invitation to meet him 53 years after they broke up, but when she comes across some of his old letters, she reconsiders her decision and visits him – only to find his house in shambles.
76-year-old Bessie Walsh had always been a joyful, vibrant woman, but after losing her better half Edward to cancer three years ago, she was reduced to a forlorn and dejected soul.
Bessie and Edward had been happily married for 45 years, had two lovely daughters, and had a beautiful home in a wonderful neighborhood. But when Edward left her for his heavenly abode, the cheerful woman was left heartbroken and alone.
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Bessie’s daughters, Stephanie and Cassandra, were both married and settled abroad, so the only company she had in her later years were her children’s photo albums and memories when they were young. As a result, she rummaged through her storeroom every evening to find all the old albums and sat for hours looking through them.
One evening, she was looking for one of their family albums when she found a stack of envelopes buried in a corner beneath an old crate. She dusted them off to have a better look at them when one of the envelopes fell to the floor, revealing a letter.
She brought everything into the living room and put on her glasses to read them, but as soon as she opened the first letter, her heart began to race.
“Hi Bessie,
This is Troy. I’m so sorry, Bess. Look, I understand you’re upset with me, but please give me a chance to explain myself. What you saw was not true, trust me. I have only loved you, and I won’t look at anyone the same way. Meet me today at the Red Rose Cafe at 5:00 p.m. I’m in your hometown. I’ll explain everything. I promise.
With love, Troy.”
No one could have predicted that the happy, constantly smiling Bessie would have a sad side too, but she did…
When she was 23, she was madly in love with Troy Evans, a young and attractive man. They’d met at university and fallen in love, and Troy had even proposed to her. Bessie had said yes without hesitation, and their wedding had already been planned. But then something happened one evening a week before the wedding that changed everything…
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Bessie was out with her friends at a restaurant when she noticed Troy. She initially assumed she had misidentified the man as Troy, but she knew it was him when she looked at him again. She was about to approach him and give him a back hug when a gorgeous brunette ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Then they held each other’s hands and walked away to a table together.
Bessie was shocked, to say the least. “Really, Troy? You’re cheating on me!” She sobbed her way out of the restaurant that day, swearing never to see him again. However, she left him a farewell letter, stating she was moving back to her hometown and that everything between them was over.
Troy wrote numerous letters to her after receiving her final letter, begging her to give him a chance to explain himself, but she didn’t bother to read any of them. Later, she married Edward after falling in love with him. She’d even forgotten she had Troy’s letters with her until a postman showed up on her doorstep one day. “You’ve got a letter, ma’am. Pretty fancy! No one does it these days!”
Bessie wondered who would send her a letter as her parents had died a long time ago, and her husband was an orphan with no living relatives. She had opened the letter out of curiosity, only to discover that it was written by Troy.
“Dear Bessie,
It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? It took me a long time to find you, but I did. I didn’t come to meet you because I don’t want to cause problems in your marriage. But I just want to see you once, Bess. You haven’t responded to any of my letters in all these years, but please give me one chance to explain myself. I’m living in Chicago, and you’ll find my address inside the envelope. Please, Bess, meet me once. I’m hoping you won’t decline my request this time.
With love,
Troy Evans. “
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It happened about a year after Edward’s death, and Bessie was still in grief, so she threw that letter and the others he’d sent later in the storeroom, never planning to read them. However, as she read one of his letters again this evening, she felt something – presumably a longing to be with someone or be loved – and moved on to the next one.
“Dear Bessie,
This is the last letter I’ll be writing you. I wrote to you so many times, and I really wanted to meet you, but I guess it won’t happen. So I’m writing this letter to explain why I kept telling you I didn’t cheat on you.
One of my friends had requested me to act as his sister’s boyfriend that day so that the boys who were stalking her wouldn’t bother her. Bess, it was all a joke. I wanted to tell you about it earlier, but you were at your grandparents’ house at the time, and when you got back, everything was messed up.
I’ve only loved you with all of my heart, and I’ve never even considered anyone else. I’m still single, and I’m hoping you’ll forgive me and come back to me. But if not, then I guess this is goodbye.
With love,
Troy Evans.”
Bessie’s eyes welled up as she finished reading. Troy had never been unfaithful to her. In truth, he had wanted to tell her everything, but she was too angry to think rationally. She couldn’t help but feel bad for the man who had honestly loved her his entire life. She rummaged through the letters in a frenzy to find the envelope with his address and decided to pay him a visit.
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However, when she arrived there, all she found was an old, decaying house with broken roofing and worn-out paint. She began inquiring with the neighbors about him, but nobody knew anything. Dejected, she had almost left the neighborhood when her gaze was drawn to a 95-year-old frail woman.
She’d been looking intently at her from the moment she’d arrived there. She felt there was something she knew and wanted to tell her, so she decided to approach her. “Excuse me, do you know anything about Troy Evans?” she gently asked.
The older woman didn’t utter a word and handed her a note. “Go to this address; he’ll be there. He left this place two years ago and never returned,” it said. Bessie realized the woman was mute, which is why she didn’t say anything.
“Thank you!” she whispered to the woman before heading to the address. An hour later, her search for Troy brought her to The Oliver Nursing Home, where she quickly spotted him. He was sitting immobile on a wheelchair in the outer yard, almost like a statue. His previously vibrant, sparkling eyes had a strange dead expression, and his face was dotted with wrinkles.
Bessie’s eyes welled up as she approached him. “Hi, Troy. How are you? It’s me, Bessie!”
The man slowly turned his wheelchair to face her, but he didn’t utter a word.
Bessie smiled at him, teary-eyed, and held his hand in hers. “I’m finally here, Troy. I’m sorry I ignored you all these years. Please forgive me,” she whispered gently.
Suddenly a voice interrupted her. “There’s no point in trying, ma’am. I’m afraid he won’t recognize you.”
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Bessie turned around and saw a woman in her late 50s standing there. She was Debbie, Troy’s caretaker at the nursing home. She informed her that Troy had suffered from memory loss due to the stroke and was unable to speak.
Bessie’s heart sank when she heard that. Now that she finally met Troy after all these years, he was in such a condition that he didn’t even recognize her! But she decided she won’t give up so soon.
She began visiting him often and told him their stories – how they’d met, showed him the letters too – in the hopes that he would recall something. It didn’t help much initially, but once, when she went to meet him, he cried terribly after reading one of the letters. He kept sobbing, and it was the first time he finally recognized Bessie and called her name! Even the nurses were stunned. It was indeed a miracle!
Bessie brought Troy home that day, and they are now living happily together. She is grateful she decided to go through those letters that evening.
What can we learn from this story?
- Don’t jump to conclusions. Bessie thought Troy had cheated on him without giving him a chance to clarify himself.
- What’s meant to be will be. Troy and Bessie were fated to end up together, and that’s what happened in the end.
I Returned Home from Work to Find My Adopted Twin Daughters, 16, Had Changed the Locks and Kicked Me Out
Thirteen years ago, I adopted my late husband’s secret twin daughters after his fatal car crash revealed his double life. I gave them everything, but at sixteen, they locked me out of my home. One week later, I discovered the shocking reason for their actions.
The morning Andrew died began like any other. The sun had just started peeking through my window, painting everything in a soft, golden light that made even my shabby countertops look almost magical.
It was the last normal moment I’d have for a long, long time.
When the phone rang, I almost didn’t answer it. Who calls at 7:30 in the morning? But something, intuition maybe, made me pick up.
“Is this Ruth?” A man’s voice, formal, hesitant.
“Speaking.” I took another sip of coffee, still watching the steam dance.
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Matthews with the Police Department. I’m sorry to inform you, but your husband was in an accident this morning. He didn’t survive.”
The mug slipped from my hand, shattering against the linoleum. Coffee splashed across my bare feet, but I barely felt it. “What? No, that’s… no… not my Andrew!”
“Ma’am…” The officer’s voice softened. “There’s more you need to know. There was another woman in the car who also died… and two surviving daughters. Records in our database confirm they’re Andrew’s children.”
I slid down the kitchen cabinet until I hit the floor, barely registering the coffee soaking into my robe.
The room spun around me as ten years of marriage shattered like my coffee mug. “Children?”
“Twin girls, ma’am. They’re three years old.”
Three years old. Three years of lies, of business trips and late meetings. Three years of another family living parallel to mine, just out of sight. The jerk had been living a whole other life while I’d been suffering through infertility treatments and the heartache of two miscarriages.
“Ma’am? Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure I was. Not really. “What… what happens to them now?”
“Their mother had no living relatives. They’re currently in emergency foster care until—”
I hung up. I couldn’t bear to hear more.
The funeral was a blur of black clothes and pitying looks. I stood there like a statue, accepting condolences from people who didn’t know whether to treat me like a grieving widow or a scorned woman.
But then I saw those two tiny figures in matching black dresses, holding hands so tightly their knuckles were white. My husband’s secret daughters.
One had her thumb in her mouth. The other was picking at the hem of her dress. They looked so lost and alone. Despite the hurt of Andrew’s betrayal, my heart went out to them.
“Those poor things,” my mother whispered beside me. “Their foster family couldn’t make it today. Can you imagine? No one here for them except the social worker.”
I watched as one twin stumbled, and her sister caught her automatically like they were two parts of the same person. Something in my chest cracked open.
“I’ll take them,” I heard myself say.
Mom turned to me, shocked.
“Ruth, honey, you can’t be serious. After what he did?”
“Look at them, Mom. They’re innocent in all this and they’re alone.”
“But—”
“I couldn’t have my own children. Maybe… maybe this is why.”
The adoption process was a nightmare of paperwork and questioning looks.
Why would I want my cheating husband’s secret children? Was I mentally stable enough? Was this some form of revenge?
But I kept fighting, and eventually, Carrie and Dana became mine.
Those first years were a dance of healing and hurting. The girls were sweet but wary as if waiting for me to change my mind. I’d catch them whispering to each other late at night, making plans for “when she sends us away.”
It broke my heart every time.
“We’re having mac and cheese again?” seven-year-old Dana asked one night, her nose wrinkled.
“It’s what we can afford this week, sweetie,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “But look — I put extra cheese on yours, just how you like it.”
Carrie, always the more sensitive one, must have heard something in my voice. She elbowed her sister.
“Mac and cheese is my favorite,” she announced, though I knew it wasn’t.
By the time they turned ten, I knew I had to tell them the truth. The whole truth.
I’d practiced the words a hundred times in front of my bathroom mirror, but sitting there on my bed, watching their innocent faces, I felt like I might throw up.
“Girls,” I started, my hands trembling. “There’s something about your father and how you came to be my daughters that you need to know.”
They sat cross-legged on my faded quilt, mirror images of attention.
I told them everything about Andrew’s double life, their birth mother, and that terrible morning I got the call. I told them how my heart broke when I saw them at the funeral and how I knew then that we were meant to be together.
The silence that followed felt endless. Dana’s face had gone pale, her freckles standing out like dots of paint. Carrie’s lower lip trembled.
“So… so Dad was a liar?” Dana’s voice cracked. “He was cheating on you?”
“And our real mom…” Carrie wrapped her arms around herself. “She died because of him?”
“It was an accident, sweetheart. A terrible accident.”
“But you…” Dana’s eyes narrowed, something hard and horrible creeping into her young face. “You just took us? Like… like some kind of consolation prize?”
“No! I took you because—”
“Because you felt sorry for us?” Carrie interrupted, tears streaming now. “Because you couldn’t have your own kids?”
“I took you because I loved you the moment I saw you,” I reached for them, but they both flinched back. “You weren’t a consolation prize. You were a gift.”
“Liar!” Dana spat, jumping off the bed. “Everyone’s a liar! Come on, Carrie!”
They ran to their room and slammed the door. I heard the lock click, followed by muffled sobs and furious whispers.
The next few years were a minefield. Sometimes we’d have good days when we went on shopping trips or cuddled together on the sofa for movie nights. But whenever they got angry, the knives came out.
“At least our real mom wanted us from the start!”
“Maybe she’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you!”
Each barb found its mark with surgical precision. But they were entering their teens, so I weathered their storms, hoping they’d understand someday.
Then came that awful day shortly after the girls turned sixteen.
I came home from work and my key wouldn’t turn in the lock. Then I spotted the note taped to the door.
“We’re adults now. We need our own space. Go and live with your mom!” it read.
My suitcase sat by the door like a coffin for all my hopes. Inside, I could hear movement, but no one answered my calls or pounding. I stood there for an hour before climbing back into my car.
At Mom’s house, I paced like a caged animal.
“They’re acting out,” she said, watching me wear a path in her carpet. “Testing your love.”
“What if it’s more than that?” I stared at my silent phone. “What if they’ve finally decided I’m not worth it? That I’m just the woman who took them in out of pity?”
“Ruth, you stop that right now.” Mom grabbed my shoulders.
“You’ve been their mother in every way that matters for thirteen years. They’re hurting, yes. They’re angry about things neither of you can change. But they love you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because they’re acting exactly like you did at sixteen.” She smiled sadly. “Remember when you ran away to Aunt Sarah’s?”
I did. I’d been so angry about… what was it? Something trivial. I’d lasted three days before homesickness drove me back.
Five more days crawled by.
I called in sick to work. I barely ate. Every time my phone buzzed, I lunged for it, only to be disappointed by another spam call or a text from a concerned friend.
Then, finally, on the seventh day, I got the call I’d longed for.
“Mom?” Carrie’s voice was small and soft, like when she used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. “Can you come home? Please?”
I drove back with my heart in my throat.
The last thing I expected when I rushed through the front door was to find my house transformed. Fresh paint coated the walls, and the floors gleamed.
“Surprise!” The girls appeared from the kitchen, grinning like they used to when they were little.
“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dana explained, bouncing on her toes. “Working at the mall, babysitting, saving everything.”
“Sorry for the mean note,” Carrie added sheepishly. “It was the only way we could think of to keep it a surprise.”
They led me to what used to be their nursery, now transformed into a beautiful home office. The walls were soft lavender, and there, by the window, hung a photo of the three of us on adoption day, all teary-eyed and smiling.
“You gave us a family, Mom,” Carrie whispered, her eyes wet. “Even though you didn’t have to, even though we were a reminder of everything that hurt. You chose us anyway, and you’ve been the best mom ever.”
I pulled my girls close, breathing in the familiar smell of their shampoo, feeling their hearts beat against mine.
“You two are the best things that have ever happened to me. You gave me a reason to keep going. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
“But we do know, Mom,” Dana said, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “We’ve always known.”
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