Karl was forced to run away from his wedding, but Jessica never understood why he stood her up at the altar. Years later, she received a note in the mail with his name on it. No matter how much time had passed, Jessica never forgot him, and what he wrote was astonishing.
“You will leave this church immediately and never return. Do you understand me, boy?” Hubert Pennigton, Jessica’s father, threatened Karl with a stern look. They were standing in the men’s dressing room behind the church, and Jessica was getting ready just across the hall in the other room.
“I’m not a boy, sir. I’m a man, and I love your daughter. I will not abandon her. It’s our wedding day,” Karl insisted, pleading his future father-in-law to understand.
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“I never liked you two dating, and I’m not going to let this continue. My daughter will not be marrying a loser who works paycheck to paycheck,” the older man sneered. “Do you hear me? I have friends in high places, as well as connections in some others. I can make your life a nightmare. If you don’t disappear willingly, I’ll make you leave by any means necessary.”
“Is that a threat?” Karl asked, squaring up to Hubert, trying not to show how afraid he was. He knew Jessica’s family was connected to some important people and a few dangerous folks, too, so Karl knew the older man’s words were not in vain.
“I don’t make threats, boy, I make promises. Now, you will leave this place right now without anyone noticing and ghost Jessica forever, OR ELSE!” Hubert finished, raising his voice, in the end, to get his point across thoroughly. He poked his index finger in Karl’s chest painfully, gave him a disdainful look, and exited.
Karl didn’t know what to do. He truly loved Jessica, but her father would hurt them both just to get his way. He paced around the room for a few more minutes then decided to leave before his groomsmen came to find him. He was quick, exiting through the back of the Masonic Temple in Detroit, Michigan and hailing a cab right there.
“Where to, sir?” the taxi driver asked.
“DTW, please,” Karl replied. He was going to the airport and flying across the country to get away from these people. I hope Jessica can forgive me, Karl thought while resting his elbow on the window sill and facing out.
Fifty years later…
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At 75, Jessica liked to sit outside on her porch and watch the kids running around Rosedale Park Historic District, one of the best neighborhoods in Detroit. She always took a cup of tea and a book to read. It was a peaceful time, but Jessica inevitably thought about her life during those times. Today was that kind of day.
She remembered her first wedding well, as it was the only time she was ever excited to have one. Karl was the love of her life, or so she thought. But when she reached the end of the aisle on her father’s arm, she saw everyone’s worried faces. Karl had disappeared, and no one knew why. They waited hours for him to return.
His groomsmen went to his house, and everything was intact. But Karl never returned, and Jessica cried on the steps of the Masonic Temple for several more hours. It was one of the best wedding venues in the city, and she always dreamed of getting married there. However, it was not to be. Her mother comforted her as best she could, but her father was actually happy.
Five years later, her father introduced her to Michael Keller, the son of a family friend. He was wealthy and connected, so her dad pushed until she accepted his proposal. They got married and had a daughter, Cynthia, almost immediately. However, Jessica filed for divorce the moment her father died.
Her husband had cheated throughout their entire relationship and was glad to separate from her, so it was a win-win situation for everyone involved. She took the then-six-year-old Cynthia, moved to her house in the Rosedale Park area, and forgot about her failed love life.
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Years went by, and Cynthia grew up to become an amazing career woman. She got married right there at the Masonic Temple and gave Jessica three gorgeous grandchildren, who visited often.
I had a great life, Jessica thought to herself while sipping her tea. It was true, although she never tried dating again. But once in a while, she thought about Karl and still wondered why he had disappeared.
Suddenly, the mailman snapped her out of her inner musings with a bright smile and a loud, “Hello, Mrs. Pennington!”
“Oh, dear. You scared me,” Jessica answered after almost dropping her tea.
The mailman laughed and apologized humorously. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But I have a letter for you. I think someone wrote it by hand even. So fancy! People don’t do that anymore,” the mailman said, handing Jessica the letter. She thanked him with a smile, and he left, waving goodbye.
The last thing she expected to see was the name “Karl Pittman” on the envelope, but it was right there along with her name and address.
“I can’t believe this,” she breathed and settled her cup of tea on the porch railing with a shaking hand. Suddenly, she was back at that church, crying on her mother’s shoulders.
Her hands still shook as she tried to open the envelope. She took a big breath before starting to read what was Karl’s unmistakable handwriting.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Dear Jessica,
I don’t know if you’ll be glad to hear from me. But after all this time, I want you to know that not a day goes by where I don’t think about you. Your father threatened me on our wedding day, and I was young and afraid. I shouldn’t have listened, but I did, and I ran off. I moved to California with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
Jessica had to stop reading for a few moments and wipe a few tears off. She knew her father had something to do with it. She knew Karl loved her and wouldn’t have done it otherwise. It didn’t change anything, but it soothed that old ache that never went away. Karl was right to leave. Her father never made threats he wasn’t serious about and didn’t take “no” for an answer. She focused on the letter again and continued reading.
“I never married nor had children. You were the love of my life, and I wanted nothing else. I hope this letter finds you well. I’m leaving my phone number, and there’s my address, so you can write me back if you want. I don’t know how to use Facebook, and all that stuff kids have these days. But I hope to hear from you.
Sincerely, Karl.”
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Jessica’s tears kept falling for several minutes after finishing the letter, but then she laughed. She also had no idea how to use all that technology available these days. Therefore, she got up and went inside to find her stationery. It was time to write back.
For the next few months, they wrote to each other often, recounting even the smallest moments in each other’s lives. Until Karl finally called her and they stayed on the phone for hours. A year later, he moved back to Detroit, and they rekindled their lost relationship.
They were old and might not have much time together, but they were going to enjoy one another’s love for as long as they could.
What can we learn from this story?
- It’s never too late to find love again. Jessica gave up on relationships for many years until she found the love of her life again at 75.
- Tell your partner the truth. If Karl had told Jessica about her father’s threats, they could’ve run away together or dealt with it in some form. But he took off, and they would never know what could’ve been.
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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.
My MIL Gifted Me a Book, ‘100 Steps to Become a Good Wife for My Precious Son,’ So I Decided to Put an End to This — Story of the Day
On my wedding day, as vows were exchanged and love filled the air, Rick’s mother, Irene, found a way to steal the spotlight. From her dramatic interruption at the altar to gifting me a book, “How to Be a Good Wife for My Precious Son”, it was clear: she wasn’t ready to let me into her world—or her son’s.
I stood by the altar in my wedding dress, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me.
My fingers trembled slightly as I gripped the piece of paper with my vows, the edges soft and worn from nervous handling.
The air smelled faintly of roses and candles, and the faint rustle of silk from the guests’ outfits added a quiet hum to the room.
Across from me, Rick stood tall, his dark suit perfectly tailored to his broad frame.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
His smile was warm, reassuring, and completely for me. I felt my heart swell as I met his gaze.
“If you’ve prepared your vows, please exchange them now,” the officiant said, his voice gentle but firm, breaking through the haze of my emotions.
I unfolded my paper, smoothing it out with care.
“Rick, I love you,” I began, my voice steady but laced with emotion. I could see his expression soften, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I wasn’t sure how to begin, but I decided to start with what’s most important.”
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A small smile played on my lips, and Rick chuckled softly, that familiar sound that always made me feel at home.
“These past four years we’ve spent together have changed my life,” I continued, my voice growing steadier as I found my rhythm.
“I was afraid of losing my old life and drowning in a relationship, so I hesitated for a long time. You know how hard it is for me to take big steps…”
“But I’m so glad I took this step,” I said, my smile widening.
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“I’m glad I’m standing here before you now. With you, I feel like I’m becoming the best version of myself. I love you, Rick.” My words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity.
There was a soft murmur of approval from the guests—subtle, but enough to remind me we weren’t alone in this moment.
“Samantha, I love you. You know I’m not one for long speeches,” he began, earning a light laugh from the crowd.
“So I’ll just say this: I’m happy you’re becoming my wife today. From now on, we’re a family, and family always sticks together.”
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The officiant smiled. “Samantha, do you take Rick to be your husband?”
“I do!” My voice rang out clearly.
“Rick, do you take Samantha to be your wife?”
“I do,” Rick said, his voice steady and full of conviction.
“If anyone here objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the officiant continued.
The room went still, the silence palpable. I felt my breath hitch. Then, to my horror, Irene stood up.
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Of course, she couldn’t just let this be about us. She always had to make herself the center of attention.
“Sorry, I just needed to go to the bathroom. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Irene said, her voice sugary sweet and her smile tight.
“Mom!” Rick snapped, clearly exasperated. He gestured for her to sit, his jaw tightening. Irene waved him off, taking her seat with an air of mock innocence.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I’d regret.
The officiant quickly regained control. “I now pronounce Samantha and Rick husband and wife!”
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The applause exploded, filling the room. Rick kissed me, his lips warm and full of love, and for a moment, the world felt perfect.
But as I glanced toward the guests, my eyes landed on Irene’s empty chair. It didn’t surprise me. Not one bit.
The reception was in full swing. Music filled the air, guests laughed, and the soft clinking of glasses blended into the hum of celebration.
I should’ve been floating on a cloud of happiness, surrounded by friends and family, but instead, my mood was sour.
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My thoughts were stuck on the ceremony, replaying Irene’s little stunt over and over.
“You know she did that on purpose…” I muttered to Rick, sitting close beside me.
Rick sighed, his patience already thinning.
“Sweetheart, that’s not true. My mom loves you and respects my choice. Don’t make things up.”
“Loves me so much she couldn’t even wait a single minute until the ceremony was over? Seriously, Rick?” I shot back, keeping my voice low but firm.
“She’s an older woman. She probably really needed to go,” Rick argued, his tone defensive. “Or would you have preferred she… handled it right there in the hall?”
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His eyebrows rose slightly, as if that was the ultimate argument-ender.
“Rick! Enough!” I snapped, crossing my arms. How could he be so blind to her little games?
At that moment, as if summoned by our discussion, Irene approached our table. Her face was stretched into that same overly sweet smile she always wore, the one that made my skin crawl.
“My dear son,” she said warmly, wrapping Rick in a hug. “Congratulations on your big day. I hope Samantha will take good care of you and that you’ll be happy!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks, Mom,” Rick replied, grinning as if she hadn’t just insulted me in the guise of kindness.
Irene then turned to me, her smile never wavering, and handed me a small, neatly wrapped package.
I stared at it, reluctant to take it.
I peeled back the paper slowly, my stomach twisting with dread. When the cover of the book came into view, my chest tightened.
“How to Be a Good Wife for My Precious Son,” it read, in a perfectly polished font. I froze, staring at the title.
It even had her name printed below: “By Irene.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My teeth clenched so hard I thought I might chip them. I forced a polite smile, but my hands were shaking.
“What’s this, Mom?” Rick asked, grabbing the book from me and flipping through the pages.
“Oh, nothing,” Irene said with a casual wave of her hand.
“I just thought Samantha could use a little guidance and advice.”
Rick, oblivious as ever, grinned.
“Oh, wow! It even has my favorite cookie recipe from when I was a kid! Mom, did you print this book yourself?”
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“All for my beloved son!” Irene chirped.
“Thank you, Irene,” I said through gritted teeth, somehow summoning the strength to be civil. “I’ll be sure to study this book carefully.”
“Samantha, don’t be mad,” Rick added, his tone almost scolding. “It’s a wonderful gift. Mom put so much effort into it.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, forcing a tight smile. Inside, I was screaming. But this wasn’t the time or place. Not yet.
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Married life felt like a dream at first.
The days were filled with stolen kisses in the kitchen, whispered promises late at night, and the kind of laughter that made everything else fade away.
For a week, it was just us—our own little world, untouched by anything else.
But like a crack in glass, that perfect world fractured with one name: Irene.
“My mom’s coming over for dinner tonight,” Rick said casually while scrolling through his phone.
I froze, spatula mid-air. “What? Why?”
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He looked up, confused. “She’s my mom. Why can’t she just visit?”
“So she’s just coming for a visit?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Well… she wanted to cook dinner for us.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “So she thinks I can’t cook dinner myself?”
Rick sighed, already weary of this conversation. “Of course not! She just wants to help…”
“Oh, help me be a good wife for her precious son…” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
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“Samantha! You’re misunderstanding again!” he snapped, his patience wearing thin.
“No, I understand perfectly,” I said firmly. “Your mom hates me and uses every excuse to meddle. What time is she coming?”
Rick hesitated. “In a couple of hours.”
“Good,” I said, already standing. “That gives me time to prepare.”
For the next two hours, I moved through the house like a storm—cleaning, cooking, and setting the table with meticulous care.
If Irene wanted a show, I was going to give her one. And I had a little surprise in mind, too.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The doorbell rang, echoing through the house, and I felt my shoulders tense. Rick hurried to open it, his face lighting up as he greeted her.
“Mom!” he said warmly, pulling her into a hug.
I stood a few steps behind, forcing a polite smile. “Welcome, Irene,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Irene replied with a saccharine smile. “We’re family now. This is my home too.”
“As you say,” I murmured, stepping aside as she waltzed into the living room like she owned the place.
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Her eyes immediately fell on the dining table, perfectly set and laden with food.
“So, you’ve already prepared everything?” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“What a shame—I was hoping to cook myself…”
“There’s no need,” I replied calmly. “I’ve taken care of everything.”
“Well, we’ll see,” she said, her tone as sharp as a knife, before sitting down at the table.
She scanned the spread, her gaze landing on the soup. “Oh, is this tomato soup from my book? You’re already trying out the recipes?”
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“Yes, very useful recipes, thank you. But I made a few improvements…”
“Improvements?” she repeated, her voice rising indignantly.
Rick, oblivious to the tension, took a big spoonful and groaned in delight. “Oh my gosh, Samantha, this is the best tomato soup I’ve ever had!”
Irene’s smile faltered. “And my cupcakes…” she muttered under her breath as Rick continued eating enthusiastically.
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Her displeasure was written all over her face, and I knew this was my moment. Rick went to the bathroom, and that was the moment I’d waited for to launch my plan.
“Irene,” I began, smiling sweetly, “your book inspired me so much that I wanted to repay your kindness.”
I picked up the remote and clicked a button. The projector on the wall flickered to life, displaying bold letters:
“How to Mind Your Own Business.”
“Today I proved that I’m more than capable of running my home and taking care of my husband. Irene, I appreciate your advice, but I’ll handle my life on my own terms.”
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Irene shot up from her seat, her face red with anger. “You’re not fit to be my son’s wife! And you know it!”
“Mom! How can you say that?” Rick walked inside the room, stunned.
“Rick, you know it’s true,” Irene snapped. “She’s not worthy of you.”
“Mom, enough!” Rick’s voice was firm now.
“I love Samantha, and you’ll accept my choice, whether you like it or not. I think it’s time for you to go home. I’ll call you a taxi.”
“Fine, dear…” Irene said with a huff, finally relenting.
I nodded silently, my heart pounding. For once, I felt victorious. In this battle for boundaries, I had finally taken a stand—and won.
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