For Nancy, her son Henry was everything; she could not imagine life without him. It had been 23 years since the terrible accident that took Henry’s life. Every year on that day, she brought his favorite pie to his grave to remember him. But this year, something was about to change.
For 23 years, Nancy, now 61, had never missed a single year on this date. She baked her late son’s favorite pie and took it to his grave each year since he passed away.
The pie, a simple but delicious apple and cinnamon treat, had been Henry’s favorite since he was a child.
The smell of apples and cinnamon reminded her of when Henry was young, running into the kitchen with his eyes shining at the sight of the pie.

On this day, just like every year before, Nancy carefully carried the freshly baked pie to the graveyard.
The dish felt heavier as she walked toward Henry’s resting place. The grave was neat and covered in flowers, showing how much he was still loved.
The stone had become smoother over the years because she often ran her fingers over it, lost in her memories.

Nancy knelt and placed the pie gently on the gravestone. Her heart ached as she began to speak, her voice quiet, as if Henry might somehow hear her.
“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 always snuck 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.

She quickly wiped her eyes 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 would be back next year, just like always.
The next day, as part of her routine, Nancy returned to Henry’s grave to clean up the remains of the pie.
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 found it bittersweet, 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 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.
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 the writer had struggled to form the letters. The simple words read: “Thank you.”
Her heart pounded with confusion and anger.
“Who took 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!”
Her private ritual, her way of honoring and remembering her son, had been disturbed 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, determined to find the person who had taken her son’s pie. She needed to know who had done this and why.
Determined to catch the culprit, Nancy decided to take action. She couldn’t let someone continue to disrupt how she honored Henry. So, she made a plan.
That night, she baked another of Henry’s favorite pies, the same apple and cinnamon recipe she had been making for over twenty years.

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.
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.
A young boy, no older than 9, with ragged clothes and dirt smudged on his face, moved toward the pie with careful 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 clear.
Nancy’s heart softened as she saw him write “Thank you” on the paper, just like before. He wasn’t a thief; 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 brought him comfort.

As the boy began to pick up the pie, his small hands shaking, Nancy stepped out from her hiding spot.
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 anger she had felt before.
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 asked. The boy stayed silent and shook his head. “What’s your name?” Nancy asked, 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.”
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, and her mind filled 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 eagerly waited 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.
“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.
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 showing 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 just the right amount of cinnamon—just as she had done many times before.
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, and his eyes sparkled as he chewed.
“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, watching him enjoy it the way he used to when he was a child.
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 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.
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.
I Tried to Warn My Ex Husband About His Gold Digger Fiancée but He Ignored Me, So I Took Action — Story of the Day

My ex-husband was ready to start a new chapter, but something about his engagement didn’t sit right with me. A casual conversation at work turned into a revelation I couldn’t ignore. He refused to believe me, so I had to show him the truth—no matter how much it would hurt.
I was sitting at work, though working as a restaurant administrator didn’t leave much time for sitting.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
This was one of those rare moments when the dining area was quiet—no guests asking for special requests, no complaints from the kitchen, no servers rushing over with last-minute problems.
I took a deep breath, savoring the short-lived peace, knowing it wouldn’t last.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen—Aaron. My ex-husband. Curious, I picked it up and tapped the message.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
A photo loaded. It was David, our son, grinning from ear to ear, holding a giant stuffed animal. The bright lights of an amusement park sparkled behind him.
A warmth spread through me. I was glad Aaron and David were having fun.
Nearby, two waitresses chatted, their voices light and excited. Lindsey held out her hand, her fingers stretched to display a massive diamond ring.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Claire grabbed Lindsey’s hand, her eyes wide. “That stone is huge! Probably visible from space.”
Lindsey laughed, tilting her hand to catch the light. “I know, right? I got so lucky.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Is he rich or something?”
Lindsey smirked. “He’s not a millionaire, but he has money. Enough to buy this, at least.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I frowned. Lindsey had been dating Leo, one of our kitchen staff, for over a year. “Aren’t you with Leo?” I asked.
“I am,” Lindsey said, still admiring the ring.
I stared at her. “Since when was Leo rich?”
Lindsey finally looked at me. “Leo isn’t. But my fiancé is. That was Leo’s idea, actually.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I blinked. “What?”
“The plan was simple,” Lindsey said. “Find a rich guy, marry him, divorce him in a few months, take the money. Then Leo and I live the good life.” She twirled the ring on her finger. “Halfway there.”
My stomach twisted. “Don’t you think that’s… cruel?”
Lindsey shrugged. “I don’t love my fiancé, so no.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“But he might love you,” I said. “He proposed, didn’t he?”
Lindsey waved me off. “That’s his problem. He fell for the fact that I’m younger.”
I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing.
I had married young and for love. Back then, Aaron and I believed love was enough.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But as the years passed, we realized we were too different. We wanted different things, handled problems in opposite ways, and saw the world through separate lenses.
Letting go had been painful, but we knew it was the right decision. Even now, I had no regrets.
Aaron was still a good friend, and most importantly, he was a wonderful father to David.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
That evening, when I got home, Aaron was already at the door with David. My son bounced inside, his face glowing with excitement.
“Mom! We went on the biggest roller coaster! I wasn’t even scared!” he said, barely pausing for breath.
I smiled, ruffling his hair. “Sounds amazing.”
Aaron, however, stood stiffly behind him. His expression was tense.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“We need to talk,” he said. “Privately.”
I nodded and led him to the kitchen.
We sat down at the table. Aaron ran a hand through his hair, his fingers drumming lightly against the table.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Something was off. His shoulders were tense, his gaze shifting, like he wasn’t sure how to start.
I leaned forward. “Aaron, you’re scaring me. Did something happen?”
He exhaled sharply. “No, nothing bad. Actually… it’s serious. But in a good way.”
I frowned. “Serious in a good way? What do you mean?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Aaron hesitated. Then, in one breath, he said, “I’m getting married again.”
I blinked. “What? That’s great!” I smiled, trying to reassure him. “I don’t see why you were so worried.”
Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought you’d be upset.”
“Upset? Aaron, I’m really happy for you. You deserve to be happy.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Relief softened his face. He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll tell David later. I wanted you to know first.”
“Of course. I’m sure he’ll be happy for you too,” I said.
Aaron smiled, more relaxed now.
“So… who is she?” I asked. “Are you going to show me a picture? How did you two meet?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Aaron chuckled. “I knew you’d ask.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “I came prepared.”
He turned the screen toward me. My stomach dropped. I couldn’t hide my shock.
“That’s Lindsey,” I said, my voice flat. “One of my waitresses.”
Aaron shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. That’s why I was worried about your reaction.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I looked back at the picture, my mind racing. “How did this even happen?”
Aaron scratched the back of his neck. “I met her when I picked up David from the restaurant. Later, I saw her on a dating app. We started talking… and here we are.”
I swallowed hard. My hands clenched under the table. I couldn’t keep this to myself.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Aaron, I need to tell you something,” I said carefully. “And it’s not good.”
Aaron’s face tensed. “If this is about the age difference, I already know. Eleven years. It doesn’t bother us.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that. Just today, Lindsey was talking about her fiancé. I didn’t realize she meant you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Aaron’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”
“She said she’s marrying you just to divorce you and take your money.”
Silence. Then, suddenly, Aaron’s expression darkened. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you!” he shouted. “I can’t believe you’re making this up!”
“Aaron, it’s the truth!” I protested. “Why would I lie?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
His jaw clenched. “Because you’re jealous!”
I gasped. “Jealous? I’m trying to protect you!”
“Right. You just can’t stand that I found someone younger who actually loves me,” Aaron snapped.
“She has a boyfriend! He works in our kitchen!” I shouted.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You’re lying!” His face was red with anger. “I can’t believe you’d sink this low.”
“It’s the truth!”
“This conversation is over.” He stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.
I couldn’t just let this go. I wouldn’t allow Lindsey to scam Aaron. He didn’t deserve that. No matter how angry he was at me, I had to make him see the truth.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
All night, I kept thinking about it. Aaron wouldn’t believe words alone—he needed proof. Clear, undeniable proof.
The next day, I watched for Leo. He was working in the kitchen, focused on chopping vegetables. I took a deep breath and walked over.
“Hey, Leo,” I said, stepping closer. “You and Lindsey make such a great couple. I was thinking—why not surprise her with a romantic dinner here after closing? She’d love it.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Leo’s face lit up. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “She even mentioned wanting something special like that recently.”
He wiped his hands on his apron, looking excited. “Wow, I had no idea. That sounds perfect.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I nodded. “You could set up a nice table, maybe bring some flowers. She’d love the effort.”
Leo grinned. “That’s a great idea, Melanie. Thanks for suggesting it. Can I do it tonight?”
I smiled. “Of course.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
After that, I sent Aaron a message. My hands hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I typed.
I knew he wouldn’t reply. He was too angry. But he didn’t have to answer—he just needed to read it.
@Me
I know you think I’m lying, but if you want the truth, come to the restaurant after 10 p.m.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I hit send and exhaled. My chest felt tight. Would he come? Would he ignore me? I had no way of knowing. All I could do was wait.
That evening, after putting David to bed, I opened my laptop. My fingers trembled slightly as I logged into the restaurant’s security system.
The cameras flickered to life. I found the right angle—one that showed the table Leo had set up.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Candles flickered in the dim light. A small vase with flowers sat in the center. It looked romantic. Too romantic.
I watched as Leo and Lindsey sat together. They ate, talked, and laughed. Leo’s eyes shone with love.
He was completely devoted to her. Lindsey smiled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She leaned in, brushing her hand against his arm. Then, finally, she kissed him.
I grimaced and quickly switched cameras. I couldn’t watch that. My stomach twisted.
On the outdoor camera, movement caught my eye. My breath hitched. Aaron was there. He had come. He pushed open the restaurant door and walked inside.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Heart pounding, I switched back to Lindsey and Leo. Just in time.
Aaron stepped into view, his face contorted with rage. Lindsey and Leo broke apart, their expressions shifting from shock to panic.
Leo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Lindsey’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Aaron’s voice boomed. I couldn’t hear what he said, but his anger was clear. He pointed at Lindsey, then at Leo.
Lindsey crossed her arms, tossing her hair over her shoulder, but Leo looked terrified.
Then, suddenly, Lindsey yanked off her engagement ring and threw it at Aaron.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It clattered onto the table. Aaron picked it up, his face pale. Without another word, he turned and stormed out.
I switched cameras again. Outside, Aaron stood still, his shoulders shaking.
His head dropped into his hand. Even from behind a screen, I could tell—he was crying.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed hard. I had done the right thing. He needed to see the truth. But somehow, I still felt guilty.
After a while, the doorbell rang. I hesitated before opening it. Aaron stood there, his face red from crying, his eyes filled with regret.
“You were right,” he said, his voice hoarse.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“This isn’t satisfying for me, just so you know,” I said. “I didn’t want to be right about this.”
Aaron nodded, his shoulders heavy. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” He took a shaky breath. “I should have trusted you.”
He stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you.”
I hugged him back, feeling his pain.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
Leave a Reply