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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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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!”
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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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I Followed My Fiancé on His Sudden Business Trip Right Before Our Wedding and Discovered the Heartbreaking Truth — Story of the Day
Two days before my wedding, my fiancé Robert dropped a bombshell—he had to leave for a sudden trip. Something felt off, and when a call from his boss didn’t add up, I followed him. What I uncovered wasn’t what I expected, leaving me questioning trust, love, and the man I was about to marry.
When I turned thirty, I couldn’t help but feel a growing fear that I might never get married. I worried that love had passed me by. But here I was—just two days away from becoming a wife.
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It felt like a dream. I was about to start a new chapter with Robert, the man who had stolen my heart and shown me what love could truly be. Robert was everything I’d ever wanted: smart, sweet, and endlessly kind.
Even when I was upset, he could make me laugh with his silly jokes or warm smile. I felt complete.
But that joy wavered the moment Robert walked into the bedroom. His uneasy expression stopped me cold. Something was wrong.
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“What’s wrong?” I asked as soon as I noticed his troubled expression.
Robert hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Katherine, I’m so sorry, but I have to go on a work trip.”
“What?” I said, my brow furrowing. “But our wedding is in two days.”
“I know,” he said, his voice soft. “I promise I’ll be back in time. Maybe even the night before the wedding.”
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“Are you serious right now? You’re leaving me alone at a time like this?” My voice was sharper than I intended, but I couldn’t help it.
Robert sighed and stepped closer. “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important. Everything is already planned, so nothing should go wrong. I’m sorry it’s happening this way, but I really have to go.”
“But why?” I asked, feeling the heat rising in my face. Words failed me as I tried to keep my emotions in check.
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Robert pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly. “I hate doing this to you, but we have our whole lives ahead of us. I’ll always be there for you, Katherine.”
“Who’s going with you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“Travis. That’s why it’s so important,” he said. I knew Travis was his boss, and I understood. Still, I wanted to scream like a child. But I swallowed it. I was an adult, after all.
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“Fine,” I said after a long pause. “But think about how you’re going to make this up to me while you’re gone.”
Robert chuckled softly, his lips brushing my forehead. “Alright,” he said. Then, he turned and began packing.
Robert moved quickly, folding clothes and placing them into his bag. I stayed on the bed, watching him silently, hoping he’d change his mind. Each item he packed felt like a step farther from me.
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My eyes wandered to the edge of the bed where his plane tickets sat. The destination caught my attention.
I didn’t think his company worked in that city. Maybe they were expanding, I thought, trying to convince myself it made sense.
When he finished, I walked him to the door. He hugged me tightly, kissed me goodbye, and left. Minutes later, my phone buzzed.
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Seeing Travis’s name made my heart jump. Why was he calling? Had something happened to Robert?
“Hello? Is everything alright?” I asked, my voice trembling as I clutched the phone.
“Everything’s fine,” Travis said calmly. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make it to your wedding. I’ll be out of town on a business trip. But I’d still like to send you and Robert a gift. How can I get it to you?”
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My stomach tightened. “Wait, Robert will be back by the wedding, right?” I asked, feeling a knot of confusion.
“Katherine, I’m not sure what you mean,” Travis said, sounding puzzled. “I would never send Robert on a trip this close to his wedding. Did he say I did?”
I froze, struggling to think of a response. “Oh, no. I must have misunderstood,” I said quickly. “I’ll let you know about the gift.”
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“Okay,” Travis said, his tone uncertain. “Let me know if you need anything.” Then he hung up.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my bag, my wallet, and my coat, leaving behind everything else. My mind raced as I drove to the airport.
Robert had lied to me. I didn’t know why, but I needed answers. The uncertainty was unbearable.
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My hands trembled as I booked a ticket for his flight. Luckily, there were still seats available.
At security, I fumbled to pull off my shoes and jacket, feeling like everyone was staring at me.
Once through, I tucked my hair into a hood and put on sunglasses. I scanned the waiting area, and then I saw him.
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Robert sat near the gate, his head down, staring at his phone. I positioned myself far enough away to stay unnoticed but close enough to follow.
When the flight was called, I let him board first. My heart pounded as I followed him onto the plane, keeping my distance.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I had to know the truth. The flight felt endless. Every time Robert shifted in his seat, I wondered what he was thinking.
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When we landed, I spotted him again and followed him outside. He hailed a taxi, so I did the same.
“Follow that car, but keep your distance,” I told my driver, who gave me a curious glance but nodded. My pulse quickened as we drove.
The car stopped in front of a small house in a quiet neighborhood. I asked my driver to pull over a few houses away and paid him quickly.
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Hiding behind a tree, I watched as Robert got out of the taxi. He hesitated at the door, then knocked.
I held my breath, watching closely. After a moment, the door opened, and someone stepped forward.
From my position behind the tree, I couldn’t see who it was, but their silhouette made my chest tighten. Then, to my disbelief, Robert stepped inside.
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I stood there for a moment, frozen. Summoning my courage, I crept closer to the house.
My hands shook as I peeked through a nearby window, my breath fogging the glass. What I saw made my knees buckle.
Robert was inside, sitting with a woman I didn’t recognize. He leaned in and hugged her, the way he always hugged me.
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Tears blurred my vision, streaming down my face as my heart shattered into pieces. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, frozen and trembling. The sound of the front door opening snapped me back to reality.
Panicked, I ducked into the bushes, crouching low to stay hidden. From my hiding spot, I watched Robert step outside, his expression unreadable. He climbed into another taxi and left without looking back.
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Gathering every bit of courage I had, I stepped out of my hiding spot and approached the door. My legs felt shaky, and my chest was tight as I raised my hand to knock.
After a few moments, the same woman I had seen earlier opened the door. She looked at me with concern, her gaze softening when she noticed the tears streaming down my face.
“Are you alright? How can I help you?” she asked gently, her voice calm.
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I swallowed hard, my words barely forming. “I’m Robert’s fiancée,” I said, my voice trembling. “In two days, I’m supposed to be his wife.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh,” she said, her hand moving to the doorframe as if to steady herself. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, motioning for me to enter.
She led me into the kitchen, where she pulled out a chair for me and handed me a glass of water.
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I sipped it slowly, my hands trembling. She sat across from me, her expression still kind but cautious.
“I know how this must look,” she said after a moment of silence. “But I promise, it’s not what you think. My name is Liz. I’m Robert’s first love.”
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. “That doesn’t make it better,” I said, gripping the glass tightly. My thoughts were a whirlwind of anger and confusion.
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Liz sighed and leaned forward, her tone steady. “He didn’t cheat on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. When Robert was younger…he wasn’t the same man you know now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
“Our relationship wasn’t healthy,” Liz said simply. “There were things he needed to fix in himself. He came here to apologize.”
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“Apologize? Why now? Why before our wedding?” I asked, my chest tightening again.
“Because he didn’t want to carry the weight of his mistakes into his future with you,” Liz said. “He told me he loves you deeply. He wanted to make peace with his past so it wouldn’t affect your life together.”
I shook my head, my voice shaking. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why lie?”
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Liz gave me a small, understanding smile. “We all have things we carry. Some we share, and some we don’t. I’m happily married now, with two kids. Robert talked about you like you’re his whole world. You’ll make each other happy. We were never meant to be happy together, but you and Robert will be.”
I nodded slowly, unsure of how to feel. Liz offered to let me stay until my flight.
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Meeting her family, I saw the love in her eyes for her husband. It reminded me of how I felt about Robert. Slowly, I began to calm.
I arrived home just as the first light of dawn was breaking. Robert was waiting by the door, his face full of worry. The moment he saw me, he pulled me into a tight hug.
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“Katherine, where were you?” he asked, his voice tense. “I was so worried. I called you so many times, and you didn’t answer. I thought something had happened.”
I hesitated, unsure of how to begin. “It’s not… I don’t know what to say,” I finally admitted.
Robert stepped back slightly, his hands still on my shoulders. “Then let me start. I lied to you,” he said. “I wasn’t on a work trip—”
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“I know,” I interrupted, looking into his eyes.
He nodded, his face filled with regret. “I’m sorry for lying. I should’ve told you, but I swear I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry too.”
Robert frowned. “Why are you apologizing?”
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“Because I doubted you,” I said, my voice trembling. “I followed you after Travis called and told me you weren’t with him. I went to Liz’s house. I talked to her. She explained everything.”
Robert’s face softened. “Katherine, I love you,” he said. “Only you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
I felt a weight lift from my chest. “I know. Now I’m sure of it,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: At nine months pregnant, I thought bending over to clean would be the hardest part of my life. But my husband’s distance and a shocking discovery in his closet made me question everything. When I uncovered strange bills and a truth he’d been hiding, I knew I had to face what was tearing us apart.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers 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.
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