![](https://rescueanimals.info/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/image-268.png)
I froze when I tuned into the local radio livestream. A woman requested a special love song for my husband, dedicating it to their first anniversary. A week later, I called the same station, but for a reason my husband could never have imagined.
So, it was one of those nights where everything just felt heavy. It was pouring rain. My nerves were shot, and I just wanted to be home with a cup of chamomile tea.
As I was fiddling with the radio, trying to find something to drown out my thoughts, I stumbled upon our local DJ, Max. His goofy banter was a bit of a comfort. Then, as one of my favorite songs, “One Love,” ended, Max announced a new caller…
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash](https://cdn.amomama.com/e78dd00b85cd0eb78fbad4f0367eb46b30625227c7a9d04c896a47928bab1f7c.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“Alright folks, up next is Jessie! Who are you dedicating this song to, sweetheart?”
Jessie giggled. “Hi Max! This one goes out to the most amazing man I’ve ever met, my Ori-bear. We’ve been together a whole year now, and I can’t believe how lucky I am!”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was in love too. But then she said:
“He might get embarrassed, but everyone calls him Mr. Lamber. This song goes out to you, Oric. ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ is exactly how you make me feel!”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash](https://cdn.amomama.com/eb76e4581a640557396f5cbb88dc55905f88cc6a47625a0fbe2be91725f258e5.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
My heart stopped. Oric? That’s my husband’s name, and it’s pretty unique. The odds of another Oric alias Mr. Lamber seemed impossible. My stomach turned.
I pulled over, my hands shaking. “Oh my God… is he… is he having an affair?” I whispered, hoping the universe had played some kind of twisted joke on me.
But deep down, I knew. The song, the name, it all clicked into place. Tears welled up in my eyes as I sat there, the DJ’s voice and the song’s cheesy lyrics stabbing at my heart.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay](https://cdn.amomama.com/01fa8c8a1deeda6cd5e37e99975210f9bbae079f3617aa7788e5393668732b08.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
Memories flooded back: Oric’s late nights at the office, the missed dinners, the faint scent of unfamiliar perfume. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was just sit there, numb.
Then my phone buzzed. It was Oric: “Sorry, hon! I’ll be late tonight. Have some important work! XOXO.”
Important work. Yeah, right. I knew exactly what “important work” Oric would be attending to tonight.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/d4029124f30324ab6f2fdb92035a1db9bcf1a512eee0d18a97769b269b540ed1.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He wasn’t going to get away with this. If this little radio charade was indeed proof of his infidelity, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The rest of the night was a blur.
I tried to eat, but my stomach wouldn’t let me. I just sat there on the bed, staring at my phone, waiting for a sign that this was all some huge misunderstanding.
At 3:45 AM, I heard his car. I pretended to sleep as he quietly came into the room. I wanted to confront him, to scream, but I held back. I needed to be sure.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash](https://cdn.amomama.com/508bd8f80a267f5cdfb402beb76c00eb260a538120701f46eb3a37fb587d95c2.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Morning arrived, and so did my suspicion. I called in sick, a flimsy excuse of a headache escaping my lips.
“Ah, darling, I want a break! Thought we could take a long drive,” I turned to Oric. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape. My eyes were drilling into his, looking for hints. Any guesses about what he said?
“Actually, Suzanna,” Oric stammered, “I have a crucial client meeting this morning. Big deal, you know!” He offered a sheepish apology, suggesting a shopping spree with friends as an alternative.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/85d60e42ee8253d18e48849626b1839f8a44eea4438816a60331492c645d11cd.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
As he rummaged for his keys, I swooped in, casually picking up his phone from the coffee table.
A flush crept up his neck as he lunged for it. I held it out of reach, amusement flickering in my eyes as I swiped the screen. “Changed the password, Oric?” I turned to him.
“It’s just work stuff, honey,” he offered, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “You wouldn’t be interested, trust me. Boring stuff, you know!”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/94bc47ef392becda2ea963ee7fb28e556e2d7a47bae1fc980f4b12bb8fa38687.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Isn’t that what we promised?” I countered, my gaze unwavering. “No secrets, remember?”
A weak laugh escaped his lips. “Businessmen have to keep certain things confidential, sweetheart. You wouldn’t understand.”
I met his gaze, the smile fading from my face. “Oh, is that it, Oric? Businessmen? Or something else entirely?”
He avoided my eyes. Well, how could he muster the courage to face me?
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/98d7c339a865ac115e6305d018920cdeddf99ad97296bbd0aaa875d7f46a8820.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I, uh, I’ll give you the password later,” he then mumbled, snatching his phone back.
Later? The word sent a cold dread spiraling down my spine. Later meant enough time to disappear… to erase any incriminating evidence.
Offering a smirk, I then started sorting laundry. That’s when I noticed something strange: a long, brunette hair clinging to Oric’s collar. I was blonde. A brunette hair on my husband’s shirt screamed a story I wasn’t quite prepared to hear.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/67b6bc954335b9fe0c390d3d6701509b08deca8fc073cb35c6c353c45ded77e5.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Oric!” I called, holding the offending strand aloft.
“What’s that, honey?” He came running.
“This,” I said, thrusting the hair under his nose. “Found it on your shirt. Care to explain?”
He took one glance, then shrugged dismissively. “Probably someone brushed against me on the bus last night.”
“The bus? Weren’t you taking the car?” I held his gaze.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/fd1e3bb07891e254113b57e3c31d62046e6ef7eb6e9c8c70ca1674129e50d87c.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
His eyes darted to the pristine black SUV parked outside. “Uh, yeah, but it broke down halfway. Took the bus to a mechanic, then he towed it.”
A lie tangled with another.
“Hold on, Oric,” I cut him off. “We both know that’s a lie. Spill it. Which mechanic did you actually take the car to?”
He avoided my gaze. Before I could unleash the full force of my anger, he mumbled something about being late. A hurried peck on the cheek, and he was out the door, briefcase clutched tightly.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/987b2a307612d81d60cf401b5b0d50481b8801674851303bf36f9933feba7a47.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The day stretched on, suspicion gnawing at my insides. No calls, no texts, just the burning ache of betrayal and a hollow feeling in my gut. Finally, at 6 p.m., a text arrived:
“Dinner with clients. Don’t wait up. XOXO .“
The once-endearing emojis now felt like a stinging slap.
The next morning, the bed was empty, a chilling absence where Oric’s warmth should have been. In its place, two missed calls and a voice message on my phone:
“Hey babe, just a quick heads-up. Short business trip with a client. Back in five days. Love you, miss you. Mwah!”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash](https://cdn.amomama.com/e5fe9253a26defed676937dc6bd7e801c9737dd9426cbdd8ed622f0e9c6eed26.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Five days. Five days to stew in this agonizing uncertainty. But one thing was clear: this trip wasn’t about business. It was a desperate attempt to escape the truth, a truth I was determined to unearth.
“Five days,” I muttered, quickly ringing Oric. “We’ll see about that.”
All my calls went unanswered. I grabbed the car keys and the next thing I knew, I was outside Oric’s office building.
The receptionist, a woman with a nametag that read “Sarah,” offered a tight smile. “Can I help you?”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/692ae2c8cb9155dc3017dc2c35c2006dff17a5f94f7e8da6ef5f66189f4e50d1.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Hi Sarah, I’m Suzanna. Is my husband, Oric, in the office today? He mentioned a last-minute business trip, and I was hoping to get some details.” Her smile faltered and said:
“Uh, Mrs. Lamber, actually, Mr. Lamber hasn’t been in all week.”
My stomach lurched. A concerned frown creased Sarah’s brow. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine,” I lied through gritted teeth, rushing out of the lobby and to my car.
Where was he? Was he with her? My head pounded with a million questions, each one sharper than the last.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/212fcf8ba67aa0cc81c218dd6149056d99a5db195c64c7f3c75c6ce4c8ec74fc.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Five days crawled by. Every unanswered text, every silent phone call, chipped away at the last vestiges of hope.
Then, one evening, the front door creaked open. Oric stood there, exhaustion etched on his face. He wore a casual outfit I’d never seen before.
“Hey, babe,” he mumbled, offering a tired smile. “Sorry about that. Last-minute deal. Had to stay with a client to finalize everything.” I crossed my arms, not believing a word.
“That’s quite a story, Oric. Especially since I visited your office and found out a little truth. Where were you exactly? Spill it.”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/55a7010f6cabace9f07b27d342305e0958f868c008a2ca8d338a2997170361e4.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You… you went to the office?”
“Just a little fact-finding mission, honey!” I said. “You wouldn’t believe the fun facts I learned.”
He started to stammer. “What are you talking about, babe? Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course, I do!” I echoed. “Oh, Oric, you have no idea what kind of surprise I have planned for you.” His eyes darted between me and the door. “Surprise?”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/cfbba7c8d9c072a11bb6770daa2230455577dcf95594726dbbee5c5b56545f85.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Oh yes,” I purred, pushing him playfully towards the bedroom. “Get ready, honey. You’re going to love it.”
He followed me, brow furrowed in confusion. But for the first time in days, a sliver of hope bloomed in my chest. The truth would come out, and tonight, the tables were finally about to turn.
“Just you wait,” I playfully whispered. “This surprise is going to be epic. You’re gonna love it, babe!”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/bc191ec2ed57bc117f98c877ba9999ae34f7b84e76dfdf1a9472a26c65c0b14d.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Minutes later, Oric emerged from the bedroom in a crisp blue suit.
He leaned in for a kiss, but I held him at bay. “Patience, honey,” I murmured. “The best things are worth waiting for.”
His eyes narrowed in confusion, but he followed me out to the car without further comment. As I pulled out of the driveway, a mischievous glint gleamed in my eyes.
“Let’s make a quick stop,” I announced, taking a detour towards his parents’ house.
Oric’s jaw dropped when he saw them waiting on the porch, smiles plastered on their faces.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/c9ba924664423c2b10c1fd7a491a98da1e6a192d728ebe2b12123a0b20f8cace.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Babe, what’s going on?” he exclaimed.
“Surprise!” his parents chorused, bustling towards the car.
My MIL squeezed into the back seat, beaming at me. “Suzanna, dear, this is wonderful! It’s been ages since we’ve all had dinner together. With Oric always so busy with work…”
I glanced at him, a pointed look in my eyes. “Yeah, right!” I said, my voice dripping with irony. “Mr. Lamber here is swamped these days.”
Oric let out a sheepish laugh, clearly bewildered by this sudden turn of events.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash](https://cdn.amomama.com/61464c9066cf3fa2dc0fb7ddc86ff6bfeb9708e1a018a24baff1c28352827674.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
As I drove to the restaurant, a glance at the dashboard clock confirmed it was showtime. I tuned the radio to the familiar station, DJ Max’s cheerful voice filling the car.
“Alright folks, welcome back! Up next is Emma, and she’s dedicating a song to the love of her life. And here we go! Enjoy the track, folks!” he chirped.
As the last notes of the love song faded away, the DJ prompted the next song’s dedication. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number for the radio station.
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For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
As soon as a cheery voice answered, I blurted out, “Hi, this is Suzanna. I’d like to dedicate a song with a special message to my husband, Oric.”
“Whoa there, Suzanna,” the DJ boomed. “Sounds like there’s a story behind this special song dedication! Mind sharing it with our listeners?”
A flush crept up Oric’s neck.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/7a5126750bd8b985f9dee2c6536685192f4bc481102e082d1863aabc76a88912.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Taking another deep breath, I plunged into the story. I spoke of the betrayal, the shattered trust, the way I’d stumbled upon the truth, a truth that had left me reeling.
As I spoke, I stole a glance at Oric. The color had drained from his face, replaced by a sickly pallor. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, his gaze desperately pleading with me to stop but I continued:
“And there’s more. It seems Oric’s little secret wasn’t so secret after all. Thanks to his… ‘special friend’ who called in last week to dedicate a love song, his infidelity is out in the open. And let me tell you, Oric’s parents deserve to know exactly what kind of son they’ve raised!”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/7decb113c79141729178a05afd58f6206e041d31e7410dacb81b6862ca88ea38.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
The DJ fell silent for a moment. Then, a gentle sympathy seeped into his voice. “Suzanna, that’s a story that deserves to be heard. We can only imagine the pain you’re going through right now. Thanks for calling and here’s a song that might echo a little bit of what you’re feeling.”
As a heartbreaking ballad filled the airwaves, I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. I got out of the car and left Oric and his bewildered parents scrambling to keep up.
I settled at a familiar table by the window. This was the same table where we’d shared our first date, filled with hopes and dreams that now lay shattered on the floor.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/e14afcf06d6c14bed769fde7e63c7a3bcd877f88ab09bbe968070dd6399cbfca.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Without a word, I slipped off my wedding ring. Slamming it on the table, I met Oric’s pleading gaze. “Consider this my treat,” I finally declared, “for our upcoming divorce.”
The clatter of the ring on the table echoed in the sudden silence. Oric’s parents, mouths agape, stared between me and their son, their faces etched with dawning horror.
“Suzanna, honey, what’s going on?” Oric’s mother stammered. “What did Oric do?”
“Ask your beloved son who’s playing innocent,” I countered. “The radio said it all.”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/570c5dcd2cf7f3923661790cd861a212032a96b62aa25df76e36fefecc94927d.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Oric, desperation etched on his face, reached for me. “Suzanna, please,” he pleaded. “Let me explain. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
But the words rang hollow. The blind trust I’d placed in him, the years of love and devotion, all felt like a cruel joke as I said:
“There’s nothing left to explain. This marriage is over.”
His father, a stern-looking man with a salt-and-pepper beard, finally found his voice. “Oric,” he boomed, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Is this true? What Suzanna says? Were you having an extramarital affair?”
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/72228511eeac89d64465ac1c47ebcb1d2c4329ff0460504b9483f80f8ef96150.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Oric mumbled something incoherent, his gaze darting around the room like a trapped animal.
“Don’t lie to your father,” his mother snapped. “We deserve the truth.”
Shame finally flickered in Oric’s eyes. He hung his head, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. “There is someone else,” he finally confessed. “But it meant nothing. It was a mistake.”
“A mistake that destroyed our trust, our future,” I choked out. “You lied to me, Oric. For how long? How would you feel if I did this to you?”
He remained silent. But his damn silence wasn’t gonna fix things.
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/855e17c9b5705fbf4e0f396abf3360d6ea19c178a68cd32687076c7fef38b68b.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I can’t stay here,” I declared. “I need some air.”
With a final, withering glance at Oric, I pushed myself away from the table and walked out of the restaurant, the clatter of the wedding ring against the table echoing in my wake.
It broke my heart to do this, but tell me, was what he did right? Did I deserve to live a life of lies with a man who not only cheated on me but also wished to keep me in the dark all my life?
![For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/64327f2a8c3db03649c11d1bf1a447410776ddae8115ff6e0a135fc071f83174.jpg)
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Here’s another story about how a woman unraveled her husband’s secret when their daughter chirped about her new teacher, “Daddy has a picture of her!”
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.
My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart
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My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart
When my estranged father, who left 20 years ago, called from his deathbed, I was torn between anger and curiosity. His final wish was something I never expected, and what he revealed about his disappearance shattered everything I thought I knew.
I was getting ready for bed when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The number was unfamiliar, so I let it go to voicemail. Not even a minute later, a text came through: “ALICE, THIS IS YOUR DAD. PLEASE CALL, I AM IN THE HOSPITAL.”
![A woman in her bedroom at night, looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/e4b96de7304578fd654c002dea40b7bcc15d16ad2f0007d160dd49dc446cce32.webp)
A woman in her bedroom at night, looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
My heart stopped. Dad? After twenty years? I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the message. Part of me wanted to delete it and forget, but curiosity won. I called the number back.
“Hello?” The voice was weak, barely audible.
“Dad?”
“Alice, it’s me. I… I don’t have much time.”
“Why are you calling now?” My voice was harsher than I intended.
“I need to explain… to ask something of you. But please, don’t tell your mother.”
![Doctors standing beside a hospital bed, looking concerned | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/9c55ff114085714325f68f787087ef14b5352b7d2bc8ededc60a3aa5e44ee300.jpg)
Doctors standing beside a hospital bed, looking concerned | Source: Pexels
There it was, the same secrecy that defined my childhood. “What do you want?”
He took a shaky breath. “I left because your grandfather, Harold, paid me to disappear. He hated me, thought I was a failure. He found someone else for your mom, someone better.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Grandpa? He did that?”
“Yes. I was struggling back then. Addictions, bad decisions. Your grandfather saw a chance to get rid of me, and I took the money.”
![A sick-looking man lying in bed | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/42eb53c6cbd56a1c41d5f9cb0472459e72acbe47096047d26f23bc342f421e83.jpg)
A sick-looking man lying in bed | Source: Pexels
“So you just left us for money?” Anger bubbled up.
“I know it sounds awful. But I invested that money, built a business. It was all for you, Alice. To secure your future.”
“Why didn’t you ever come back?”
“Part of the deal. I couldn’t approach you or your mom. But I was there, watching. I saw your graduation, your volleyball games. I was always there, just… from a distance.”
I felt like my world was tilting. “Why didn’t Mom ever tell me?”
![An old man in a hospital bed talking on a cell phone | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/d3721a3ae226d5df150a5ac291b6a91ab23f88126eadf4c6f6801b274b268c8c.webp)
An old man in a hospital bed talking on a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want you to hate him. Or maybe she thought she was protecting you.”
“What do you want now?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I need to see you, Alice. One last time before I go. I’m at St. Mary’s Hospital.”
I didn’t know what to say. Could I face him after everything?
“Please, Alice. It’s my dying wish.”
![The exterior of a hospital building at night | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/6f33a4a11a0378d88b189636b8c742bcc91738ed60aace903b8f4c52862d866d.webp)
The exterior of a hospital building at night | Source: Midjourney
The line went silent, and I sat there, the phone still in my hand, my thoughts tumbling. Should I go? What would I even say to him? I needed to think, but there was no time. He was dying.
The next morning, I called in sick to work and sat in my kitchen, staring at my coffee. Should I tell Mom? But he’d asked me not to.
I called my best friend, Jen. “Hey, can we talk?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
![A woman talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/ec18e5fb1ba131f196427c971f5ba455ad05fcf17a8e633f5937b7e089715f81.jpg)
A woman talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
“It’s… it’s my dad. He called last night.”
“Your dad? The one who left?”
“Yeah. He’s dying, and he wants to see me.”
“Wow. How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. Angry, confused. He told me things, Jen. About my Grandpa.”
“Like what?”
“That my grandfather paid him to leave. He said he was there at my graduation, my games. But he couldn’t approach us.”
“That’s insane. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. He wants me to visit him, but I’m not sure I can.”
![A woman in conversation on a cell phone | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/a1bfa8a5d81803207c67b69fb29442ad1abc4c88b6f0754c740efc7fa4feaa87.jpg)
A woman in conversation on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
Jen was silent for a moment. “Maybe you should go. Get some answers. Closure.”
“I guess. But I don’t know if I’m ready to face him.”
“Take your time, but don’t take too long. If he’s dying…”
“I know. Thanks, Jen.”
After hanging up, I sat back, deep in thought. Jen was right. Maybe I did need closure. I couldn’t keep living with these unanswered questions. And if he really was dying… I had to see him.
![A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/1463e5169c2efb0ed6ff2e6bd15366e8f2517fc783f6195d7f2fa8aba7c1ba68.jpg)
A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels
I decided to go to the hospital. As I drove, memories of my childhood flashed through my mind. The good times before he left, the confusion and pain afterward. The way Mom never spoke about him, the unanswered questions that haunted me.
I walked into the hospital room, feeling the weight of years and unanswered questions pressing down on me. The beeping machines filled the stark room with an unsettling rhythm. My dad lay in the bed, looking more frail than I had ever imagined. His eyes lit up when he saw me, a weak smile forming on his lips.
![An old man sitting up in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/57a81f3732317a366a15efdfc79918e11060d5604a520f8c821542f6201957ab.webp)
An old man sitting up in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Alice,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Hi, Dad.” I stood at the foot of the bed, not sure what to say. Anger and confusion swirled inside me, but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, made it hard to voice them.
“You came,” he said, relief evident in his eyes.
“I had to. I needed to understand why.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry for everything.” He reached out a trembling hand, and I took it, feeling the cold, fragile skin.
![A young woman close to an old man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/ad5a6f9471ceeba3740599e602d8ded5e9cb408d88d2262a1c5d0253cf47cd15.webp)
A young woman close to an old man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Why did you do it, Dad? Why did you take Grandpa’s money and leave us?”
He sighed, a deep, rattling sound. “I thought it was the best way to secure a future for you and your mother. I was a mess, Alice. Addicted, broke. Your grandfather offered me a way out, a chance to give you a better life, even if it meant I couldn’t be part of it.”
“Do you know how much that hurt us? How much it hurt me?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “You missed everything, Dad. My graduation, my volleyball games, my entire life.”
![A woman with tears in her eyes | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/c6fe9bc61287c4de389607b7497ff52615f6b414c91655038ba1ce068d5e7e94.webp)
A woman with tears in her eyes | Source: Midjourney
“I was there, Alice. Watching from afar. It broke my heart not to be with you, but I thought I was doing the right thing.” He paused, struggling for breath. “I tried to make it right. I invested the money, built something that I hoped would help you.”
“Why didn’t you come back when you were better?”
“I couldn’t. Part of the deal was that I had to stay away. But I wrote to you, Alice. Letters, every year. They’re in a safety deposit box. Here.” He handed me a small key. “After I’m gone, open it. You’ll find proof of everything, and the letters.”
![A small key in the palm of a hand | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/bd0d0a3d67078fc1409a6c6c789b2a808f3965108fb0c24ebeb8ad9326781a1d.jpg)
A small key in the palm of a hand | Source: Pexels
I took the key, my fingers trembling. “Why now, Dad? Why tell me all this now?”
“Because I’m dying, and I can’t leave this world without you knowing the truth. I love you, Alice. I’ve always loved you.”
Tears streamed down my face as I gripped his hand. “I needed you, Dad. I needed my father.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I hope you’ll understand why I did what I did when you read those letters.”
![An apparently comatose figure in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/597a38521ae21e5dbc485b07acd6e8fad4af8bbf0fe7466bf8dfb6584848ad5e.jpg)
An apparently comatose figure in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels
We sat in silence, holding hands, the machines’ beeping the only sound in the room. After a while, his breathing became more labored. He squeezed my hand one last time, and then he was gone.
I left the hospital feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, anger, sadness, and a strange sense of closure. The next day, I went to the bank and used the key to open the safety deposit box. Inside, I found stacks of financial documents and a bundle of letters, each one addressed to me, dated over the years.
![A corridor of safety deposit boxes | Source: Midjourney](https://cdn.amomama.com/4a3427e774cfd8368aebde25a45cde2294657433238b1f05c136e380aaa40f86.webp)
A corridor of safety deposit boxes | Source: Midjourney
I took the letters home and spent hours reading them. Each one was filled with his regrets, his love, his hopes for my future. He wrote about the business he built, how he watched over me, how proud he was of my achievements.
By the time I finished the last letter, my anger had softened into a deep, aching sadness.
With the financial documents, it was clear that my father had indeed worked hard to secure my future. The money he left behind was substantial, enough to change my life. But it wasn’t just about the money. It was about understanding his choices, his sacrifices, and his love.
![A woman takes up a hand-written letter | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/09b16a71f5b819b322d1356904a6a166d6b3403c89e86aa1fdf22388b6f070dd.jpg)
A woman takes up a hand-written letter | Source: Pexels
I knew I had to talk to my mom. I needed to know her side of the story. When I confronted her, she looked at me with sad eyes.
“I knew about the offer,” she admitted. “I didn’t stop it because I thought it was best for you too. I thought you deserved a better life than what your father could give you at that time.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I wanted to protect you from the truth, to let you remember him without bitterness. Maybe I was wrong, but I did what I thought was best.”
![An elderly woman looking down thoughtfully | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/1097f37028b20bd48d748c6a6d0b338b2ccbbd53b779a4cecbffe640cac55e0a.jpg)
An elderly woman looking down thoughtfully | Source: Pexels
Her confession was another piece of the puzzle, helping me to understand the complex web of decisions that shaped my life.
In the end, I decided to use the money to start a scholarship fund in my father’s name. It felt like the right way to honor his memory and his efforts. It was a way to help others, just as he had tried to help me.
As I launched the scholarship, I felt a sense of peace. The past was complicated and painful, but it had brought me to where I was. And now, with the truth out in the open, I could move forward, honoring both my father’s love and my mother’s sacrifices.
![A woman making calculations with a pen in hand | Source: Pexels](https://cdn.amomama.com/27519d01dbac8ffbec9a876b0eca309b8b02048e28c0f6a4488e3ff1c2cd08a6.jpg)
A woman making calculations with a pen in hand | Source: Pexels
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