Despite being together for more than ten years, Christie and Alex had never given birth.
During this period, however, they gave their careers their whole attention, which also caused them to become increasingly aloof.
Typically, Christie and Alex would eat at a modest restaurant on special occasions like Valentine’s Day and their anniversary. But as time passed, Christie longed for more from these outings, which had turned into more of a habit than amorous encounters.
Christie had always wanted to travel the world, see various cultures firsthand, and create treasured memories. She saw this dream as a means of fortifying their relationship because they wouldn’t have any kids to bind them.
But Alex always turned down her offers to travel, claiming it would be too costly and that they should put money up for their retirement. Consequently, Christie felt her life was turning into a pattern of work and sleep, and her once-bright love started to fade.
When Alex was given a rare cancer diagnosis, tragedy struck, forcing Christie to deal with her waning feelings and the realization that his time with her was running out.
Christie once got a call from the hospital when she was traveling home from work. “Mrs. Carson, your husband is not in good condition,” the nurse said in a somber tone. It is advisable that you come over here right now.
Feeling overwhelmed by emotions, Christie hurried to the hospital, questioning why their relationship had failed. Alex was scarcely able to talk when she came, but he made an effort to express his emotions.
“Christie, even if I didn’t get the chance to show you how much I love you, please know that you are my everything. He stated to her, “I recognized at one point that this love might not be mutual between us.
The sorrow he was hiding behind his words was evident in his laborious breathing. Christie went on, “I do love you, Christie, and I didn’t expect to leave this world so early,” tears welling up in his eyes. I had a tonne of plans for us.
“These are my last hours, and there’s nothing more I’d like to spend them with,” Alex said, reaching out for her hand and taking it. I also want to take a little piece of you with me when I pass away. Therefore, if you could, please place something in my pocket at my burial so I can keep it forever.
Christie, overcome, retorted, “Alex, I swear to do that.” Be at ease regarding me. I’ll look after my needs. You may relax and keep an eye on me from up there.
They sat in soothing calm, listened to music, and relived treasured moments during their last hours together. Alex closed his eyes gently as darkness fell and never opened them again.
Christie tucked her locket—a charming memento of their love—into his coat pocket during his funeral. She discovered a message written in Alex’s handwriting inside his pocket, which said:
To Christie,
I’m happy that I choose to spend the rest of my life with you because I’ve loved you my entire life. We became distant somewhere along the line, and I apologize for forgetting to live in the present while trying to show you how much I loved you.
When we were younger, you used to tell me about your long-held ambition of opening a cafe by the seaside where you could bake your delectable cake recipes and feed patrons substantial meals. This was something I never forgot, and it gave me daily incentive to work really hard. I apologize for neglecting you during this period as it consumed all of my attention.
Christie, I came very close to witnessing you realize this dream. I have a bank passbook in my safe that is registered in your name. I have enough money saved up there for you to start your company. Documents pertaining to the acquisition of a piece of land including a tiny cottage with a view of the ocean are also contained in an envelope. This is where your cafe can be installed.
I had not intended to depart from this life so soon. Together, I wanted to start this cafe. I apologize for not being there to support you while you turn this into a reality, but know that I will always be in my thoughts and prayers.
I will always adore you with all of my heart. Alex.
Christie hoped she could go back in time because she was so moved. She talked to Alex about his unmet hopes and prayers, and over time she gained the courage to take action.
Christie realized her lifetime dream of opening “Uncle Alex’s Seaside Cafe” in honor of her late spouse. It was a monument to unwavering love and a sobering reminder that sometimes the spark of desire and love needs to be reignited by a devastating loss.
I Returned Home to Discover My Kids Asleep in the Hallway — The Transformation My Husband Made to Their Bedroom in My Absence Drove Me Wild
After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight!
I’d been away on a business trip for a week, and let me tell you, I was itching to get home. My boys, Tommy and Alex, were probably bouncing off the walls waiting for me.
I mean, a week is practically forever when you’re 6 and 8. And Mark? Well, I figured he’d be glad to hand the reins back to me. He’s a great dad, don’t get me wrong, but he’s always been more of the fun parent than the responsible one.
As I pulled into our driveway at midnight, I couldn’t help but grin. The house was dark and quiet, just as it should be at this ungodly hour.
I grabbed my suitcase and tiptoed to the front door, keys jingling softly in my hand.
The lock clicked open, and I stepped inside, ready to collapse into bed. But something was… wrong.
My foot hit something soft, and I froze. Heart pounding, I fumbled for the light switch. When the hall lit up, I almost screamed.
Tommy and Alex were sprawled out on the floor, tangled up in blankets like a couple of puppies. They were fast asleep, but their faces were smudged with dirt, and their hair was sticking up in all directions.
“What the hell?” I whispered, my mind racing. Had there been a fire? A gas leak? Why weren’t they in their beds?
I crept past them, afraid to wake them up until I knew what was going on. The living room was a disaster zone, littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, and what looked suspiciously like melted ice cream on the coffee table. But no sign of Mark.
My heart was doing the cha-cha in my chest as I made my way to our bedroom. Empty.
The bed was still made, like it hadn’t been slept in today. Mark’s car was in the driveway, so where was he?
That’s when I heard it. A faint, muffled sound coming from the boys’ room. I tiptoed over, my imagination running wild. Was Mark hurt? Had some psycho broken in and tied him up?
I pushed the door open, inch by inch, and…
“What. The. Actual—” I bit my tongue, remembering the kids were just down the hall.
There was Mark, headphones on, controller in hand, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers. But that wasn’t even the craziest part.
The boys’ room had been transformed into some kind of gamer paradise. A massive TV took up one wall, there were LED lights everywhere, and I’m pretty sure that monstrosity in the corner was a mini-fridge.
I stood there, mouth hanging open, as the rage built up inside me like a volcano about to blow. Mark hadn’t even noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever game he was playing.
I stomped over and yanked the headphones off his head. “Mark! What the hell is going on?”
He blinked at me, looking dazed. “Oh, hey babe. You’re home early.”
“Early? It’s midnight! Why are our children sleeping on the floor?”
He shrugged, reaching for his controller again. “Oh, it’s fine. The boys were happy sleeping outside. They thought it was an adventure.”
I snatched the controller away. “An adventure? They’re not camping, Mark! They’re sleeping on our dirty hallway floor!”
“Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill,” he said, trying to grab the controller back. “Everything’s under control. I’ve been feeding them and stuff.”
“Feeding them? You mean the pizza boxes and ice cream in the living room?” I could feel my blood pressure rising with every word. “And what about baths? Or, I don’t know, their actual beds?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “They’re fine, Sarah. Lighten up a bit.”
That’s when I lost it.
“Lighten up? LIGHTEN UP? Our children are sleeping on the floor like animals while you play video games in their room! What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he huffed. “I’m just trying to have a little me-time. Is that so terrible?”
I took a deep breath, trying not to scream. “You know what? We’re not doing this right now. Go put the boys in their beds. Now.”
“But I’m in the middle of—”
“NOW, Mark!”
He grumbled but got up, shuffling past me.
I watched him pick up Tommy, who stirred a little but didn’t wake up. As Mark carried him to bed, I couldn’t help but think how alike they looked: one actual child and the man acting like one.
I scooped up Alex, my heart breaking a little at how dirty his face was. As I tucked him into bed, I made a decision. If Mark wanted to act like a child, then that’s exactly how I’d treat him.
The next morning, I put my plan into action.
While Mark was in the shower, I snuck into the man cave he’d created and unplugged everything. Then I got to work.
When he came downstairs, hair still wet, I was waiting for him with a big smile. “Good morning, sweetie! I made you breakfast!”
He looked at me suspiciously. “Uh, thanks?”
I set a plate in front of him. In the middle was a Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake with a smiley face made of fruit. His coffee was in a sippy cup.
“What’s this?” he asked, poking at the pancake.
“It’s your breakfast, silly! Now eat up, we have a big day ahead of us!”
After breakfast, I unveiled my masterpiece, a giant, colorful chore chart plastered on the fridge. “Look what I made for you!”
Mark’s eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”
“Language!” I scolded. “It’s your very own chore chart! See? You can earn gold stars for cleaning your room, doing the dishes, and putting away your toys!”
“My toys? Sarah, what are you—”
I cut him off. “Oh, and don’t forget! We have a new house rule. All screens off by 9 p.m. sharp. That includes your phone, mister!”
Mark’s face went from confused to angry. “Are you kidding me? I’m a grown man, I don’t need—”
“Ah, ah, ah!” I wagged my finger. “No arguing, or you’ll have to go to the timeout corner!”
For the next week, I stuck to my guns. Every night at 9, I’d shut off the Wi-Fi and unplug his gaming console.
I even tucked him into bed with a glass of milk and read him “Goodnight Moon” in my most soothing voice.
His meals were served on plastic plates with little dividers. I cut his sandwiches into dinosaur shapes and gave him animal crackers for snacks. When he complained, I’d say things like, “Use your words, honey. Big boys don’t whine.”
The chore chart was a particular point of contention. Every time he completed a task, I’d make a big show of giving him a gold star.
“Look at you, putting your laundry away all by yourself! Mommy’s so proud!”
He’d grit his teeth and mutter, “I’m not a child, Sarah.”
To which I’d reply, “Of course not, sweetie. Now, who wants to help make cookies?”
The breaking point came about a week into my little experiment. Mark had just been sent to the timeout corner for throwing a fit about his two-hour screen time limit. He sat there, fuming, while I calmly set the kitchen timer.
“This is ridiculous!” he exploded. “I’m a grown man, for God’s sake!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you sure about that? Because grown men don’t make their children sleep on the floor so they can play video games all night.”
He deflated a little. “Okay, okay, I get it! I’m sorry!”
I studied him for a moment. He did look genuinely remorseful, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook when I had one last blow to deliver.
“Oh, I accept your apology,” I said sweetly. “But I’ve already called your mom…”
The color drained from his face. “You didn’t.”
Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to reveal Mark’s mother, looking every bit the disappointed parent.
“Mark!” she bellowed, marching into the house. “Did you really make my sweeties sleep on the floor so you could play your little games?”
Mark looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Mom, it’s not… I mean, I didn’t…”
She turned to me, her face softening. “Sarah, dear, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I thought I raised him better than that.”
I patted her arm. “It’s not your fault, Linda. Some boys just take longer to grow up than others.”
Mark’s face was beet red. “Mom, please. I’m 35 years old!”
Linda ignored him, turning back to me. “Well, not to worry. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next week. I’ll whip this boy back into shape in no time!”
As Linda bustled off to the kitchen, muttering about the state of the dishes, I caught Mark’s eye. He looked utterly defeated.
“Sarah,” he said quietly. “I really am sorry. I was selfish and irresponsible. It won’t happen again.”
I softened a little. “I know, honey. But when I’m away, I need to know you’ve got things under control. The boys need a father, not another playmate.”
He nodded, looking ashamed. “You’re right. I’ll do better, I promise.”
I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I know you will. Now, why don’t you go help your mother with the dishes? If you do a good job, maybe we can have ice cream for dessert.”
As Mark trudged off to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Lesson learned, I hoped. And if not… well, I still had that timeout corner ready and waiting.
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