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
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
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
“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.
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
“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
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
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
“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
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
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.
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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 Husband Yelled at Me Because the Sounds of Me Cleaning Distracted Him from Work – And Then I Saw What This ‘Work’ Really Was
When I married my husband, I thought we both wanted the same things. I carried the whole household, thinking I was supporting him in whatever work he did from his home office until I discovered what the “work” actually was.
For the past three years, I’d been married to Jake, a man who called himself “the busiest man on Earth.” That’s how he justified locking himself away in his home office for hours on end. But one day I became privy to his “work,” and everything changed between us.
A man working | Source: Midjourney
Jake often spoke of “building our future,” a phrase he used so often it might as well have been his motto. I believed him. I wanted to. Isn’t that what love is? Supporting your partner, even when it’s hard?
To ease his stress, I took on all the other work. I raised our two children, managed the house, and even worked part-time to help stretch our tight budget. But lately, everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers—our finances, my sanity, and, most painfully, my trust in Jake.
An exhausted woman | Source: Midjourney
Although our bills were always late and the struggle was constant, I trusted him when he promised that he was “so close” to a breakthrough. He spent most of his days locked in his bare “office,” saying he was in “important meetings” or “crunching numbers.”
I was forced to adjust our whole lives to support him, including keeping the children as quiet as possible and timing my chores to avoid disturbing him. Our days followed a predictable pattern.
A woman keeping her children busy | Source: Midjourney
Jake would wake up early, scarf down breakfast with a quick “Got a big meeting today,” and then disappear into his so-called “war room.” He called it that as if he were strategizing for a global takeover. But for all his ambition, our bills remained overdue.
But yesterday was different, and things changed drastically from that point onward…
A frustrated woman | Source: Midjourney
It was a Wednesday, the kind of day that dragged on forever. The kids were out of school, which meant extra chaos because they became restless. Tyler, my youngest, kept running circles around the dining table with the dog barking in gleeful harmony.
My older daughter, Mia, was practicing her cartwheels in the living room. All the while, I scrubbed the kitchen counters, trying to keep some semblance of order while also making an effort to be as quiet as possible.
A woman cleaning | Source: Midjourney
“Keep it down!” I hissed at Tyler as he whooshed past me. “Daddy’s working.”
“But Mommy,” he whined, clutching the dog’s collar, “Scruffy wants to play!”
I sighed. I didn’t have it in me to argue. Jake had locked himself in his office hours ago. He’d reminded us at breakfast, “I’ve got a critical meeting today. Zero interruptions.” I nodded, like always, though the words stung. Zero interruptions had become our family’s unofficial rule.
A man giving instructions | Source: Midjourney
As I wiped down the stove, my mind wandered. When was the last time Jake and I really talked? Not about bills or the kids, but about us? About anything real? I shook off the thought, focusing on the task at hand.
Then it happened.
When Tyler ran through chasing the dog, he frightened me and the frying pan slipped from my hand, clanging against the tile floor with a sound so loud it made Mia scream and my son laugh.
“Oops!” Tyler giggled, his hands flying to his mouth.
A boy laughing | Source: Midjourney
The next moment, Jake burst out of his office, his face red and eyes blazing! “Can YOU not keep it down for one single minute?!” he roared, startling the kids into silence. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is during a work meeting?”
I froze, clutching the counter for support. “Jake, I—”
He cut me off, his voice dripping with frustration. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m in there busting my ass, and you can’t even manage to keep things quiet!”
A man shouting | Source: Midjourney
The kids were staring at us, wide-eyed and silent. Tyler clung to Scruffy’s fur as if the dog could shield him from the tension. I opened my mouth to apologize, but then I heard it, a woman’s voice. Soft, playful, and utterly out of place in our home.
I turned toward the office door, my stomach tightening. “Jake,” I said slowly, “who’s in there?”
His face turned from anger to panic in an instant. “It’s just a client,” he stammered, blocking the doorway. “Stay out of it.”
An upset and defensive man | Source: Midjourney
But I wasn’t buying it! My gut twisted with suspicion as I pushed past him and stepped into the room.
The sight before me was surreal! The computer screen displayed a bright, cartoonish online game. In the corner of the screen was a video call window, and inside it was a bubbly, animated avatar labeled “SUZYLOVELY88.” The avatar giggled as if this were the funniest thing in the world.
“What is this?” My voice came out shaky but firm.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Jake’s panic morphed into indignation. “It’s my hobby,” he said, puffing out his chest like he always did when cornered. “You’re always so boring! I need an escape! Suzy gets me. She’s fun to talk to, unlike you.”
I felt like I’d been slapped!
“Your hobby?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You’ve been locking yourself in here, pretending to work, while I’ve been breaking my back to keep this family afloat? And for what? To talk to some stranger online?!”
An angry woman shouting | Source: Midjourney
“She’s not just some stranger!” Jake snapped, his face flushed. “She actually listens to me, which is more than I can say for you.”
I blinked, stunned into silence. The kids peeked around the corner, their curious eyes darting between us. I gestured for them to go to their rooms, and thankfully, they obeyed.
Turning back to Jake, I felt my anger boil over. “Do you hear yourself?” I said, my voice trembling with emotion.
An angry woman shouting | Source: Midjourney
“I’ve sacrificed everything for you—for us! And you’ve been sitting here, wasting time on this… this nonsense?”
Jake scoffed, his bravado crumbling. “Maybe if you weren’t so naggy and exhausted all the time, I wouldn’t need this.”
Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t care. Getting angry again, he added, “You know what? I’m done! I’m going to Suzy! She actually makes me happy!”
He stormed out of the office, grabbed a duffel bag from the bedroom closet, and started stuffing in clothes without looking at me. I followed him, trying to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t listen. And just like that, he was gone.
An upset man leaving his home | Source: Midjourney
The next day passed in a blur. I vacillated between anger, heartbreak, and an odd sense of relief. The house felt quieter, not just physically but emotionally. The kids kept asking when Daddy was coming home, and I gave them the same answer each time: “I don’t know, sweetheart.”
On the second day, Jake’s mother called. I hadn’t expected it, and the desperation in her voice caught me off guard.
“Sweetie,” she began, “I know you’re upset, but I need to tell you something.”
A woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“What is it?” I asked, bracing myself.
Her voice quivered as she explained. “Jake drove hours to meet Suzy. But… she wasn’t who he thought she was.”
My heart sank. “What do you mean?”
“Suzy,” she continued, “isn’t a woman. He’s a middle-aged man with a beard. He’s been catfishing Jake for months and even convinced him to send money for ‘plane tickets.’ My son’s devastated!”
An upset woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
The absurdity of it hit me like a wave, and before I could stop myself, I burst into laughter! Real, deep, uncontrollable laughter. It felt good, like releasing years of pent-up frustration.
“So, all along he really wasn’t working?” I asked curiously.
“No, sweetie, he played video games for some money but wasn’t making much. Whatever little he got, some of it he sent to this Suzy person. Please,” his mom pleaded. “He’s humiliated. He wants to come home.”
A desperate woman | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, my laughter fading. “No,” I said firmly. “Jake made his choices. I’ve spent too long putting myself last. I’m not doing it anymore.”
When Jake tried calling to ask to come back, I told him I wanted a divorce and that I was taking everything. I offered to let him keep his laptop. “Maybe you’ll find a better ‘Suzy’ next time.”
Not having much to his name and having cheated online, my husband couldn’t fight me much, and I got everything, including the kids.
A sad man | Source: Midjourney
In the weeks that followed, I began rebuilding my life. I found a full-time job and enrolled the kids in daycare. It was scary, but every step I took felt like a step toward freedom. The weight of carrying Jake’s burdens was gone, and I felt lighter than I had in years!
One night, as I tucked Tyler into bed, he looked up at me with big, curious eyes. “Mommy,” he whispered, “are we gonna be okay?”
I smiled, brushing his hair back gently. “Yes, sweetheart,” I said with a confidence I hadn’t felt in years. “We’re going to be more than okay.”
And for the first time, I truly believed it.
A content woman and her son | Source: Midjourney
Unfortunately, Jake’s wife isn’t the only woman who has had to deal with a secretive husband, but in the following story, the truth is something worse and completely unexpected. It changes the woman’s life for the better.
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.
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