While selling my late mom’s belongings, an older man recognized her pendant. His story shook me, and as he turned to leave, I took a strand of hair from his coat, determined to uncover the truth about my father.
After my mother passed away, I walked into our old house, and the silence hit me like a wave. The rooms felt hollow like they were waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back.
“Okay, just start,” I whispered to myself, though my legs refused to move.
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The air smelled faintly of her cinnamon rolls, always warm on Saturdays. I could almost hear the rustle of her dress as she walked through the hall, humming under her breath. But now, everything was still.
I forced myself toward the living room. Boxes were stacked neatly, waiting for me to decide their fate. My fingers hovered over the first one, and I sighed.
“This is ridiculous. It’s just stuff.”
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But every item pulled at me. Her old coffee mug, the one with the chip that I always told her to throw away. Her scarf, the one I’d borrowed without asking. I couldn’t let go, not yet.
And then I saw it. The pendant. It was tucked under a stack of faded letters. The emerald gleamed, catching the dim light.
“I’ve never seen this before. Where did this come from?”
Mom never wore jewelry like this. I stared at it.
“Well,” I said to myself again, “I guess it goes in the sale box.”
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***
The fair was alive with energy. The sweet, nutty aroma of roasted almonds and caramel was mixed with the faint tang of dust kicked up by the crowd.
My little table was wedged between a stall selling handmade candles and another offering second-hand books.
“Not exactly prime real estate,” I muttered to myself, rearranging a few items on the table.
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People walked by, some slowing down to glance at the assortment of belongings from my mother’s house. A couple picked up an old vase, murmured something to each other, and put it back. A child tugged at his mother’s sleeve, pointing at a set of vintage postcards.
“Excuse me,” a deep, slightly raspy voice broke through the noise.
I looked up to see an older man standing before me. His face was weathered, with deep lines etched around his eyes and mouth. He pointed to the pendant lying among the other items.
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“May I?” he asked.
“Of course,” I replied, watching as he picked it up carefully.
He held it up to the light. His expression softened.
“This pendant,” he began, his voice quieter now, “it’s beautiful. Where did it come from?”
“It belonged to my mother,” I explained, folding my hands nervously. “I found it while sorting through her things.”
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He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stared at the pendant as if it held a secret only he could see.
“I gave one just like this to a woman once,” he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. “Her name was Martha. We spent a summer together—years ago, decades really. It was… unforgettable.” His lips curved into a bittersweet smile. “But life pulled us apart. I never saw her again.”
My heart thudded in my chest.
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“Martha,” I repeated under my breath. That was my mother’s name.
Could it be possible? I studied the man closely, searching for any hint of familiarity. I needed to get more information about him.
“Do you want to keep it?” I blurted, the words escaping before I could think them through.
He looked startled. “Oh, I couldn’t…”
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“I insist,” I said quickly. “But let me clean it first. I can make it look as good as new and send it to you later.”
His hesitation melted into a nod. “That’s very kind of you.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper. “Here’s my address.”
“Thank you, Mr.?”
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“Jackson,” he said, scribbling quickly and handing me the paper.
As he returned the pendant to me, my eyes caught a strand of hair on his coat, fine and silver. Without a second thought, I reached out discreetly and plucked it between my fingers.
“Nice to meet you, Jackson,” I said, slipping the strand into my pocket.
I had what I needed. It was time to find out the truth.
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***
I wrestled with the decision for days before finally handing over the strand of hair for a DNA test. The question of whether Mr. Jackson could be my father consumed me. My mother had never spoken of him, and that part of her life felt like a stolen chapter from my own biography.
She had secrets that even her death couldn’t bury. In the end, my need for answers outweighed my doubts. I submitted the sample and waited.
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Weeks passed, each day stretching endlessly, but then the results arrived. My hands shook as I opened the envelope, and my breath caught in my throat as I read the words: 99% probability.
Jackson was my father.
“Are you sure?” I had called the clinic, my voice trembling.
“Absolutely,” the technician replied. “There’s no mistake.”
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Armed with this truth, I found myself standing outside Jackson’s modest house, the pendant clutched tightly in my hand. My heart pounded as I knocked on the door.
He answered almost immediately, his expression shifting from surprise to curiosity.
“Miss…?” he began, but I quickly interrupted, extending the pendant toward him.
“This is yours,” I said softly.
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He hesitated before taking it. But when I explained the DNA test, his expression changed sharply. His brows furrowed, and his mouth tightened.
“You did what?” he demanded.
“I had to know,” I replied, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “The test confirmed it. You’re my father.”
Before he could respond, a girl, maybe fifteen, appeared at his side. She slipped her hand into his, her wide eyes flickering between us.
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“This is Julia,” Jackson said, his tone suddenly protective. “My daughter.”
“Who’s this?” she asked softly.
The sight of her only deepened the storm in Jackson’s eyes. He turned back to me, his voice rising.
“You had no right to do this,” he snapped. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re here because you want something.”
“Want something?” I repeated, my frustration breaking through. “I don’t want anything from you! I’ve spent my entire life wondering who my father was. Wondering why he wasn’t there!”
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But my words fell flat. Jackson shook his head, his jaw tight.
“Leave,” he said firmly, stepping back and closing the door.
I stood there, stunned and heartbroken, until the door creaked open again. Suddenly, Julia slipped out.
“Wait,” she called, catching up to me. “You seem to be my sister, right?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “It’s possible.”
Her face lit up with a small smile. “Come back tomorrow. I’ll talk to him. Please.”
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***
The next day, I returned to Jackson’s house. I didn’t know what to expect. When he opened the door, he looked different—calmer, almost vulnerable.
“I owe you an apology,” he said, stepping aside to let me in. “Yesterday, I… I didn’t handle things well.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. “I understand. It was a lot to take in.”
We settled into the living room. The pendant lay in his hands as he turned it over slowly, his fingers tracing its edges. The silence stretched, but finally, he spoke.
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“I gave this to your mother the day I asked her to marry me,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t have a ring, but I wanted her to know how serious I was. She laughed and said she didn’t need diamonds. But not long after that, she… she ended things.”
“Ended things?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “Why?”
He sighed heavily. “I was going to go abroad to follow my dreams. I asked her to go with me. I didn’t know she was pregnant. If I had…”
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His voice trailed off, thick with regret.
“She never told me that,” I murmured. “She always said she was happy raising me alone. She never talked about you, not even once.”
Jackson looked up, guilt shadowing his face. “I think she wanted to protect you from… me. I didn’t fight for her the way I should have. And when I saw you yesterday, all I could think about was Julia. I was afraid of how she’d react, afraid of failing as a father again.”
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Julia, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, stepped forward.
“You didn’t fail me, Dad,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And maybe this is a chance to make things right. For all of us.”
I reached into my bag, pulling out an old journal I’d found in the attic.
“I found this,” I said, holding it out to Jackson. “It’s my mom’s diary. I think you should read it.”
His hands trembled slightly as he opened the worn book. “What does it say?”
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I swallowed hard. “She wrote about why she left. She said she loved you, but she was scared. She’d just found out she was pregnant, and she thought… she thought you’d feel trapped. That you’d never follow your dream. I think she let you go because she loved you.”
“She couldn’t have been more wrong. She was my dream,” he whispered.
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The room fell silent, the weight of unspoken years pressing down on all of us. Finally, Jackson looked at me.
“I can’t change the past,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But if you’ll let me, I’d like to be part of your life now.”
That evening, we sat down for a simple dinner. The food didn’t matter. It was the warmth around the table that I’d been missing for so long. As Julia cracked a joke and Jackson smiled for the first time, I felt something shift inside me. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone. I had found my family.
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Woman Finds Wallet with 60-Year-Old Letter inside and Decides to Seek the Owner — Story of the Day
A woman came across a wallet while sweeping the street and decided to track its owner and return it. The events that followed were intriguing, to say the least.
Sandra was a young woman whose fate had never been on her side. She had been orphaned at a young age and had lost her family in a car accident, leaving her traumatized for a long time.
As time went on, she somehow sympathized with her destiny and started looking for means to support herself. But sadly, the only job that she could manage to get was that of a street sweeper. The job didn’t pay well, but she could at least afford a place to live and three meals a day.
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As Sandra started cleaning the road one day, she saw a wallet lying at the edge of the road. Out of curiosity, she stopped sweeping and began investigating its contents. She discovered that the wallet was mostly empty, with only a few dollars and a letter that appeared to have been read several times a day for years.
On the torn envelope of the letter, everything was blurred out except for the return address. She cautiously opened it, taking care not to tear the delicate paper, and discovered that it had been written in 1959. A 60-year-old letter? It must have been quite special to the owner, she wondered.
Some words in the letter had faded, but Sandra could thankfully read most of it.
“Dear Lewis,” the letter began. “My mother forbade me to meet and said that you and I could not be together, but I want you to know that I love you. Love, Nancy Ar…” Unfortunately, the paper was torn at the edge, and Sandra could not read it.
Thinking that it was pretty special for its owner, Sandra decided to track him down and return it. She went to the phone exchange operator to inquire about the phone number indicated with the return address and was soon connected to someone who lived there.
“Hello, my name is Sandra. May I speak to Nancy?”
“I’m sorry but no one by the name of Nancy lives here,” the woman on the line replied.
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“Actually, maybe you can help me. I found a wallet and wanted to return it to its owner. There was a letter inside the wallet and I got this phone number from the return address on the letter, so I assumed the person who wrote the letter lived there.” Sandra explained. “The woman’s name is Nancy.”
“Are you talking about Nancy Arnolds?” the woman inquired.
“Well, I’m not sure if her last name is Arnolds, but I think it’s her. Do you have her contact information or know where I might be able to find her?” Sandra inquired.
“Actually, we bought the house from her mother 20 years ago. She was staying at a nursing home then. If you want, I can give you the nursing home’s contact number; you can write it down.”
Sandra thanked the woman and immediately called the nursing home. There she was informed that Nancy’s mother had passed away, but her daughter was still alive and staying there.
Sandra quickly hired a cab and headed to the location. When she met Nancy and showed her the letter she had found, Nancy’s eyes welled up. “I can’t believe he has kept it safe until now. By the way, where did you find this?”
“Well, it was inside the wallet I found on the road. By any chance, do you recognize this?” Sandra showed the wallet.
“I don’t know about the wallet, but this letter, I wrote the letter for Lewis — Lewis Duncan,” Nancy said. “We met in college, and I wanted to marry him and start a family, but my mother was against it because, just like my father, Lewis was not well off. After my mom married my father, he began living off my mother’s wealth, and when mom objected, he threatened that he would harm me.”
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“Mom resisted for a long time and then divorced him. Sadly, she never had a happy married life, and she feared the same would happen to me. As a result, she despised Lewis and my relationship. But if you find him, please let him know that I still love him and never married. I always hoped he’d come and find me, and I am still waiting.” Nancy burst into tears as she finished.
Sandra consoled her and promised she would find Lewis, but deep down, she was scared that wouldn’t happen. Nancy was the only way Sandra could contact him, but Nancy had no idea about him because she hadn’t seen him since she was transferred to the nursing home.
Dejected, Sandra left the nursing home and decided to drop the wallet at the police station, but as she stepped outside, the security guard interrupted her. “Are you Nancy’s relative?”
“No, actually…” Sandra began speaking when the guard interrupted her again. “Wait, isn’t that Mr. Duncan’s wallet?”
Sandra was taken aback. “Yes, it is! Do you know him?”
“Yes, he lives in the building next to the nursing home,” the guard replied. “The man is pretty old and keeps misplacing his wallet. Actually, don’t tell Nancy, but he frequently visits just to see her. That’s how I know him.”
Sandra’s happiness knew no bounds when she heard that, she went to Mr. Duncan and returned the wallet. He was glad that the letter was safe.
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“I’m sorry, Mr. Duncan, but I read that letter,” Sandra admitted shyly. “And I have a question if you don’t mind me asking.”
Mr. Duncan smiled warmly at her. “Ask anything, young lady. You returned the most valuable item to me. I don’t mind if the wallet was lost, but the letter is very close to my heart.”
“Then why don’t you meet Miss Arnolds? The guard told me everything. She couldn’t stop crying when she saw the letter. Do you know that she never married and has been waiting for the day she’ll meet you again?”
Mr. Duncan’s eyes almost welled up. He said he was devastated when he received this letter and resolved that he would never marry anyone because he loved Nancy. However, he had no idea that Nancy wasn’t married either.
Sandra took him to her and left them alone for a while. They cried and hugged, and Sandra’s eyes welled up when she saw them like that. It brought back memories of how she and her husband Edward met. She sobbed as she walked out of the nursing home.
A year later, she received a wedding invitation. It was an invite to Nancy and Lewis’ wedding.
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What can we learn from this story?
- Matches are made in heaven. Nancy and Lewis were destined to be together, and that is exactly what happened.
- Some accidents are beautiful. Sandra found the wallet accidentally and returned it to the owner. Eventually, it led to the reunion of two lovers.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a homeless woman who found $1 million in a trash can.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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