Woman Ignores Letters from Man She Left 53 Years Ago, Visits Him Once and Finds a Ruined House — Story of the Day

A woman turns down her ex-lover’s invitation to meet him 53 years after they broke up, but when she comes across some of his old letters, she reconsiders her decision and visits him – only to find his house in shambles.

76-year-old Bessie Walsh had always been a joyful, vibrant woman, but after losing her better half Edward to cancer three years ago, she was reduced to a forlorn and dejected soul.

Bessie and Edward had been happily married for 45 years, had two lovely daughters, and had a beautiful home in a wonderful neighborhood. But when Edward left her for his heavenly abode, the cheerful woman was left heartbroken and alone.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Bessie’s daughters, Stephanie and Cassandra, were both married and settled abroad, so the only company she had in her later years were her children’s photo albums and memories when they were young. As a result, she rummaged through her storeroom every evening to find all the old albums and sat for hours looking through them.

One evening, she was looking for one of their family albums when she found a stack of envelopes buried in a corner beneath an old crate. She dusted them off to have a better look at them when one of the envelopes fell to the floor, revealing a letter.

She brought everything into the living room and put on her glasses to read them, but as soon as she opened the first letter, her heart began to race.

“Hi Bessie,

This is Troy. I’m so sorry, Bess. Look, I understand you’re upset with me, but please give me a chance to explain myself. What you saw was not true, trust me. I have only loved you, and I won’t look at anyone the same way. Meet me today at the Red Rose Cafe at 5:00 p.m. I’m in your hometown. I’ll explain everything. I promise.

With love, Troy.”

No one could have predicted that the happy, constantly smiling Bessie would have a sad side too, but she did…

When she was 23, she was madly in love with Troy Evans, a young and attractive man. They’d met at university and fallen in love, and Troy had even proposed to her. Bessie had said yes without hesitation, and their wedding had already been planned. But then something happened one evening a week before the wedding that changed everything…

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Bessie was out with her friends at a restaurant when she noticed Troy. She initially assumed she had misidentified the man as Troy, but she knew it was him when she looked at him again. She was about to approach him and give him a back hug when a gorgeous brunette ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Then they held each other’s hands and walked away to a table together.

Bessie was shocked, to say the least. “Really, Troy? You’re cheating on me!” She sobbed her way out of the restaurant that day, swearing never to see him again. However, she left him a farewell letter, stating she was moving back to her hometown and that everything between them was over.

Troy wrote numerous letters to her after receiving her final letter, begging her to give him a chance to explain himself, but she didn’t bother to read any of them. Later, she married Edward after falling in love with him. She’d even forgotten she had Troy’s letters with her until a postman showed up on her doorstep one day. “You’ve got a letter, ma’am. Pretty fancy! No one does it these days!”

Bessie wondered who would send her a letter as her parents had died a long time ago, and her husband was an orphan with no living relatives. She had opened the letter out of curiosity, only to discover that it was written by Troy.

“Dear Bessie,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? It took me a long time to find you, but I did. I didn’t come to meet you because I don’t want to cause problems in your marriage. But I just want to see you once, Bess. You haven’t responded to any of my letters in all these years, but please give me one chance to explain myself. I’m living in Chicago, and you’ll find my address inside the envelope. Please, Bess, meet me once. I’m hoping you won’t decline my request this time.

With love,

Troy Evans. “

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

It happened about a year after Edward’s death, and Bessie was still in grief, so she threw that letter and the others he’d sent later in the storeroom, never planning to read them. However, as she read one of his letters again this evening, she felt something – presumably a longing to be with someone or be loved – and moved on to the next one.

“Dear Bessie,

This is the last letter I’ll be writing you. I wrote to you so many times, and I really wanted to meet you, but I guess it won’t happen. So I’m writing this letter to explain why I kept telling you I didn’t cheat on you.

One of my friends had requested me to act as his sister’s boyfriend that day so that the boys who were stalking her wouldn’t bother her. Bess, it was all a joke. I wanted to tell you about it earlier, but you were at your grandparents’ house at the time, and when you got back, everything was messed up.

I’ve only loved you with all of my heart, and I’ve never even considered anyone else. I’m still single, and I’m hoping you’ll forgive me and come back to me. But if not, then I guess this is goodbye.

With love,

Troy Evans.”

Bessie’s eyes welled up as she finished reading. Troy had never been unfaithful to her. In truth, he had wanted to tell her everything, but she was too angry to think rationally. She couldn’t help but feel bad for the man who had honestly loved her his entire life. She rummaged through the letters in a frenzy to find the envelope with his address and decided to pay him a visit.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

However, when she arrived there, all she found was an old, decaying house with broken roofing and worn-out paint. She began inquiring with the neighbors about him, but nobody knew anything. Dejected, she had almost left the neighborhood when her gaze was drawn to a 95-year-old frail woman.

She’d been looking intently at her from the moment she’d arrived there. She felt there was something she knew and wanted to tell her, so she decided to approach her. “Excuse me, do you know anything about Troy Evans?” she gently asked.

The older woman didn’t utter a word and handed her a note. “Go to this address; he’ll be there. He left this place two years ago and never returned,” it said. Bessie realized the woman was mute, which is why she didn’t say anything.

“Thank you!” she whispered to the woman before heading to the address. An hour later, her search for Troy brought her to The Oliver Nursing Home, where she quickly spotted him. He was sitting immobile on a wheelchair in the outer yard, almost like a statue. His previously vibrant, sparkling eyes had a strange dead expression, and his face was dotted with wrinkles.

Bessie’s eyes welled up as she approached him. “Hi, Troy. How are you? It’s me, Bessie!”

The man slowly turned his wheelchair to face her, but he didn’t utter a word.

Bessie smiled at him, teary-eyed, and held his hand in hers. “I’m finally here, Troy. I’m sorry I ignored you all these years. Please forgive me,” she whispered gently.

Suddenly a voice interrupted her. “There’s no point in trying, ma’am. I’m afraid he won’t recognize you.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Shutterstock

Bessie turned around and saw a woman in her late 50s standing there. She was Debbie, Troy’s caretaker at the nursing home. She informed her that Troy had suffered from memory loss due to the stroke and was unable to speak.

Bessie’s heart sank when she heard that. Now that she finally met Troy after all these years, he was in such a condition that he didn’t even recognize her! But she decided she won’t give up so soon.

She began visiting him often and told him their stories – how they’d met, showed him the letters too – in the hopes that he would recall something. It didn’t help much initially, but once, when she went to meet him, he cried terribly after reading one of the letters. He kept sobbing, and it was the first time he finally recognized Bessie and called her name! Even the nurses were stunned. It was indeed a miracle!

Bessie brought Troy home that day, and they are now living happily together. She is grateful she decided to go through those letters that evening.

What can we learn from this story?

  • Don’t jump to conclusions. Bessie thought Troy had cheated on him without giving him a chance to clarify himself.
  • What’s meant to be will be. Troy and Bessie were fated to end up together, and that’s what happened in the end.

My Husband’s Lover Came to Me for a Massage, Not Knowing I’m His Wife

You never think it’ll happen to you. I thought my husband and I had built a life that no one could touch. But then a young, beautiful woman walked into my massage studio and started talking about her life. What she said left me speechless, but my response left her paralyzed.

I never imagined that a routine appointment at my massage studio would unravel my entire marriage. The woman on my table that day had no idea who I was, and by the time she realized the truth, it was too late.

A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

If you asked anyone to describe me, they’d probably say I’m the typical hardworking mom. My life revolves around my two boys, Ethan and Leo.

At 10 and 8 years old, they’re at that stage where they want to be independent but still need their mom for everything. And honestly, I love being there for them. The morning rush to get them ready for school, the endless soccer practices, and those quiet moments at bedtime when they tell me about their day motivates me to keep going.

A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney

But my life isn’t all about the kids.

Five years ago, I opened my own massage studio, and it quickly became my second home. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about helping people relax.

It’s my passion, and I’ve poured my heart and soul into that place.

A masseuse massaging someone's hand | Source: Pexels

A masseuse massaging someone’s hand | Source: Pexels

Then there’s Henry, my husband of 12 years.

I met him when I was a young, vibrant woman, full of dreams and energy. Back then, I’d dress up for him, wear makeup, and make sure my hair was perfect. And he loved it.

We were inseparable. Henry always found a way to make me laugh and I continued believing we’d be happy forever. But life doesn’t stay the same.

A woman sitting near a window | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting near a window | Source: Midjourney

Over the years, I’ve become more practical.

I don’t spend hours on my hair or makeup anymore. I wear comfortable clothes and don’t spend money on fancy stuff because I believe I’d rather invest my time and money in my kids.

Henry never complained about it, but sometimes I wondered if he noticed.

It wasn’t that our marriage was bad. Henry still did his part. He was a present father, always at the boys’ games and school events. He fixed things around the house and never missed a birthday or anniversary.

I thought we were solid.

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

But over the past year, something felt… off. Henry started working late more often. At first, I didn’t question it. He’s a lawyer, and I assumed he was putting in extra hours to give us a comfortable life.

Still, there were moments that gnawed at me.

He’d get home late and head straight for the shower without saying much. Sometimes, he’d sit with us for dinner, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

I chalked it up to stress. After all, I was busy too. Running a business and raising kids wasn’t easy.

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

But deep down, a part of me knew something had changed. We weren’t the same couple we used to be.

I figured it was just part of being married for over a decade. You know, life gets busy, romance takes a backseat, and you fall into routines.

What I didn’t know was that my husband’s routine included someone else.

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning when Emily walked into my massage studio. She looked exactly like the kind of woman who turned heads without even trying.

A woman walking on a wooden floor | Source: Pexels

A woman walking on a wooden floor | Source: Pexels

Everything about her screamed luxury. The way her sleek hair cascaded over her shoulders, the designer bag she casually set down on the chair, and her expensive perfume that filled the room.

“Hi, I’m Emily. I have a 10 a.m. appointment,” she said with a friendly smile.

I returned the smile, though something about her felt off. Maybe it was her confidence or the way she seemed so at ease as if she owned the place.

I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I brushed it off.

A woman standing in her massage studio | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her massage studio | Source: Midjourney

“Welcome, Emily. Please, make yourself comfortable,” I said, gesturing toward the massage room. “You can hang your things there and lie down on the table. I’ll be right with you.”

Once she settled in, I started my usual routine. The room was calm and serene, with soft music playing in the background. As I massaged her back, she let out a deep sigh.

“Finally,” she said, her voice muffled by the table’s headrest. “I’m going to relax.”

I chuckled. “Much stress?”

“Too much,” she groaned. “I really needed this.”

A woman lying on a massage table | Source: Midjourney

A woman lying on a massage table | Source: Midjourney

I kept my tone light and conversational. “Work stress?”

“Relationship stress,” she corrected. “My boyfriend is… complicated.”

I stayed silent, letting her talk if she wanted to. Some clients like to open up during their sessions, and I’ve learned that listening can be just as therapeutic as the massage itself.

Emily sighed again. “He’s in the process of a divorce, and it’s been messy. I don’t know why he hasn’t just finalized it already. His wife is such a drag.”

A back-view shot of a man | Source: Midjourney

A back-view shot of a man | Source: Midjourney

I felt a pang of sympathy. Divorce is never easy, especially when kids are involved. Still, something about the way she said “drag” didn’t sit right with me.

“I guess that’s always hard,” I said carefully. “Especially with kids in the picture.”

“Oh, they’re not my problem,” she said dismissively.

My hands froze for a split second before I forced myself to keep going. I was horrified. How could someone be so heartless?

But I reminded myself not to judge. I didn’t know the whole story.

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t know how his wife does it,” Emily continued. “She just works, looks after the kids, cooks, cleans… No wonder he’s leaving her. She’s boring. No makeup, no effort. Just a mom. And of course, he’ll get the house. It’s his. The kids can stay with her. I don’t want to raise someone else’s brats.”

Her words stung, though I wasn’t sure why. It was like she was describing me. I shook the thought away.

Pure coincidence, I told myself.

Emily’s phone suddenly buzzed on the side table. I glanced at it, and my heart nearly stopped.

A phone on a table | Source: Pexels

A phone on a table | Source: Pexels

The screen lit up with a picture of her and… Henry.

My husband. My Henry. Smiling with her. Holding her.

My heart pounded faster as I processed what I was seeing. My mind raced, replaying everything Emily had just said.

“Oh, I’ll answer later,” Emily said casually, reaching to silence the phone.

“No, dear,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. “Please, answer it.”

A woman in her massage studio | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her massage studio | Source: Midjourney

She blinked, surprised by my tone. “What?”

I stepped back and crossed my arms. “It’s my husband—your boyfriend dreaming of divorcing me—calling you. Go ahead.”

For a moment, there was dead silence. Then she screamed, “What the hell did you do?! I CAN’T MOVE!”

I watched as Emily struggled to lift her head, her arms trembling as she tried to push herself off the massage table. But her body refused to cooperate.

For a moment, I panicked. Did I seriously paralyze her? But then I realized what had happened.

A worried woman | Source: Midjourney

A worried woman | Source: Midjourney

I must’ve pressed on a nerve in her neck. It was something I’d seen before in my practice. Temporary paralysis, usually gone in a few minutes.

Still, I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “It’ll pass in a bit. Meanwhile, let’s have a chat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You did this on purpose!”

I shrugged. “Prove it.”

Emily tried to wiggle her fingers, but they barely twitched. She huffed in frustration, glaring at me like a trapped animal.

“You’re insane!” she hissed.

An angry woman lying on a massage table | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman lying on a massage table | Source: Midjourney

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a woman who’s tired of being lied to.” I pulled over a chair and sat down calmly. “Now, about that house… You think it’s Henry’s?”

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Yeah, it’s not,” I continued. “It’s in my name. The kids? They’re staying with me. And guess what? Courts tend to favor the spouse who wasn’t sneaking around.”

“You’re bluffing,” she spat. “Henry said—”

“Henry said a lot of things, didn’t he?” I leaned forward. “Did he mention that I’ve supported him through job changes, sleepless nights with our kids, and years of marriage? Or did he just paint me as some boring wife?”

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

Emily’s nostrils flared. “He loves me.”

“Does he?” I laughed. “Or does he love the idea of you? The fun, carefree fling who doesn’t remind him of his responsibilities?”

Her phone buzzed again. This time, I picked it up and held it out for her to see.

“Would you like me to answer? Should I tell him you’re… indisposed?”

Emily’s expression shifted from anger to fear. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare.” I smirked. “But first, let me take a little souvenir.”

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

I opened her phone and found a string of messages between her and Henry.

Sweet nothings. Promises of a future together. And a few photos that made my stomach turn.

I snapped pictures with my phone, making sure I had enough evidence to make my point clear. Then I locked her phone and set it back down.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Because you need to know what’s coming.” I stood up and leaned over her. “When you can move again, feel free to let Henry know I’ll be calling my lawyer today.”

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

“You won’t win,” she muttered. “Henry won’t let you take everything.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, he’ll have no choice. I’ve got proof now. And when the courts see what he’s been up to, he’ll be lucky if he walks away with his clothes.”

Emily finally managed to lift her head. Her arms were still weak, but she was starting to regain movement.

“Don’t worry,” I said with a smile. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes. But your relationship with Henry? That’s done.”

A worried woman | Source: Midjourney

A worried woman | Source: Midjourney

She glared at me as she swung her legs off the table, struggling to stand.

“You think you’ve won?” she raised an eyebrow. “He’ll come crawling back to me.”

“If you say so,” I laughed.

She grabbed her bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I took a deep breath, letting the tension leave my body.

But I wasn’t done yet.

That evening, I waited for Henry to come home. He walked through the door like nothing had happened, kissed me on the cheek, and sat down at the dinner table.

A man standing in his house | Source: Midjourney

A man standing in his house | Source: Midjourney

“Henry,” I said, setting my phone on the table between us. “We need to talk.”

His eyes flickered to the phone, and I could see the color drain from his face.

“I know everything,” I said quietly. “The texts. The calls. Your little plan to divorce me.”

He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“No excuses, Henry,” I said. “You want a divorce? You’ll get one. But you’re leaving with nothing. The house is mine. The kids stay with me. And if you try to fight me, I’ve got plenty of evidence to bury you in court.”

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

His face paled, and he slumped in his chair. “Sophia…”

I leaned in, my voice steady. “You should’ve thought about this before you lied to me. Now? You’re on your own.”

The next day, I filed for divorce.

Soon, Henry moved out, and Emily realized he couldn’t give her the life she wanted.

To be honest, leaving my husband wasn’t easy. But after thinking about what he’d been doing behind my back, I knew I had no other option.

I left Henry and promised to never look back again. Not even on days when I felt lonely.

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: When Brooke returns home from a weeklong work trip, she’s eager to unwind with her favorite snack. But her peanut butter jar is mysteriously half-empty. Her husband, Aaron, is allergic, so who ate it? Determined to uncover the truth, Brooke turns to their security cameras and discovers a shocking secret: Aaron had been hiding a guest. What starts as suspicion unravels into an emotional journey neither of them expected.

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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