Woman Told Her Daughter Her Father Had Died – Years Later, the Girl Discovered a Heartbreaking Truth

Woman Told Her Daughter Her Father Had Died – Years Later, the Girl Discovered a Heartbreaking Truth

When Cassie returns from a getaway with her husband and son, she walks into her home to see a cryptic message from her mother — telling her to watch a video. As Cassie presses play, her entire life changes. In the end, she’s left wondering which of her parents are worthy of forgiveness.

In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He was everything I needed him to be and more. He was a businessman who was always traveling, but he ensured that he made enough time for me.

“You’re my little girl, Cassie,” he would say, bopping my nose with his index finger. “You’re the most special.”

My parents always went out of their way for me — ensuring that despite their busy schedules, we would have family dinner almost every night.

It was the one thing that kept me grounded while both of my friends from school were in the middle of their parents’ messy divorces.

“I think it’s trendy now,” I told my mother as she cut slices of banana bread for me after school one day.

“Cas, you cannot think that divorce is trendy,” she laughed. “It’s devastating and traumatic, and very few families actually keep things civil.”

“I’m just saying that it’s trendy because a lot of kids live between two homes,” I explained to her. “It’s one of those things we were talking about in class today.”

I was fourteen, and the world seemed more dramatic than it should have been.

But what I didn’t know was that my words seemed to be an incantation that settled over our home.

A few weeks after that conversation, my father went away on a business trip. A few hours after he had been gone, there was news of his passing.

“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” she replied. “I’m just saying what the paramedics told me.”

“So what will we do next?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled by the question.

“For the funeral?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to have one?”

“I don’t think so,” my mother replied. “Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread at the beach. Let’s do that instead.”

I couldn’t fathom why my mother would want to do that — but at the end of the day, she knew my father best. And the longer I thought about it, the more beautiful and sentimental a private ceremony at the beach felt.

“Don’t be difficult, Cassie,” my mother said when she saw me thinking about my next move.

“I’m not,” I said. “Really. I was just thinking about it. It’s a great idea, Mom.”

I could have fought her for a send-off that I thought would have been more appropriate. But what use would it have been? At the end of the day, we had both lost him.

The months following the beach ceremony felt weighted, and I knew that I was becoming deeply depressed — my father had been our world. And his absence was felt more than anything.

But, with time, I learned to live with it.

Last week, I decided to book a cabin in the woods for a little family vacation. My son was adamant that camping was the new best thing, and I knew that despite the wonders of nature, I wasn’t going to camp in a tent without a bathroom in sight.

Instead, I thought that a cabin would be the best option — my husband, Derek, could camp outside with Drew, our son, if he insisted on it.

We had a dog, therefore, I asked my mother to house-sit for the week so that we could be at peace, knowing that Romeo was taken care of.

A week away was more than enough to restore my mind — and eventually, when we went back home, I was surprised to see that my mother wasn’t there. In fact, it looked like she had never been there.

But there, on the coffee table, was a note beneath the TV remote.

Watch this, Cassie. I’m sorry. — Mom

I didn’t know what was in store for me, but while Derek got Drew into the bath, I put the TV on and began to watch whatever my mother had planned.

The TV flickered to life, and there he was, my father, his voice a long-lost melody, his image aged but still, unmistakably him.

Tears streamed down my face as the realization that he was still alive enveloped me in a mix of joy and disbelief.

The video message was nothing short of unpredictable.

My dear Cassie, I’m still here, alive. I’m so sorry for the pain that you must have felt from my loss. But it was needed. I needed to be removed from your life because of the sordid truth of my past. Your mother knows everything, please ask her for the truth.

My health is on a steady decline, and I would love to see you and explain it all.

Love you, Dad.

Without telling Derek or Drew anything, I grabbed the car keys and ran out. I needed my mother to explain.

“So, I bet you’ve got questions for me,” she said, opening the door.

“Explain it all,” I said.

“Cassie, it’s heavy. You look tired from your trip; are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.

I nodded. It was now or never. I needed to know why my father faked his own death to get out of our lives.

My mother made us some tea and took out some shortbread.

“Darling,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there’s so much about that time that I need to tell you.”

I sipped my tea, trying to figure out what my mother was about to tell me.

“I remember that you were telling me about your friend’s parents getting divorced. Do you remember that?” she asked.

I nodded. Of course, I did. It was the strangest thing, but it was so common when I was in school.

“Well, your father and I were not legally married. So when I told him about our conversation regarding divorce, he was actually relieved. Without being married, there would be no divorce.”

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“Then I found out that the real reason that we didn’t get married was because your father was already married to another woman.”

“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping my cup. “To who?”

“To a woman in the town where he always had his business trips.”

“You didn’t know?” I asked, unable to believe her words.

“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “But when I pressed him about it, he decided to choose that family over us. So, I told him that the story was going to be his death.”

We were both silent for a moment.

Turns out that my mother told him that she would never tell me the truth, not when he was my favorite person. She couldn’t burst my bubble in that way. And she refused to let him see me one more time.

“It was better for you to think that it was an accident,” my mother said. “It just made more sense.”

Now, I understood why we didn’t have a funeral for him.

“What did we throw into the sea, then?” I asked.

“Dust,” she replied with a straight face.

My mother had spoken to him twice over the years. The second time being a day ago.

During their meeting, my father confessed his imminent death due to illness and requested that she give me the recording. My mother, torn by guilt and love, chose to write me the note and have the recording all set for me to watch.

“I would have taken the secret to my grave,” she said. “But knowing that he was ill and wanted to see you just struck something in me.”

Compelled by a need to confront the reality of my father’s existence, I traveled to the state where he lived with his other family.

I spent a few weeks with my father — going in and out of hospitals, watching him take an array of different medication, and growing weaker by the day.

Sitting at his bedside, I listened to his stories, the regrets, the moments of joy, and the love he had for all his children — myself included.

When things started to go downhill, I asked Derek to fly over with Drew. It was going to be a fleeting moment, but at least I’d know that my son had met my father.

A few days later, my father died.

Even now, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for the lie of having a double life. I just know that when it came to it in the end — I wanted to spend time with him. I had shoved my feelings aside, hoping for memories that I could figure out later.

But now that the dust has settled, I’m trying to figure out if I should forgive my mother for lying.

What would you do?

Here’s another story for you | After Celine’s father dies, she is left with having to navigate the weight of her grief. Everywhere she turns, there are pieces of her father. On her many trips to the cemetery, she finds that there are always fresh flowers left.\

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.

Boy Sees His Birthday Deliveries Planned for the Next 15 Years and Cries When He Finds Out Why – Story of the Day

Teenage boy Charlie struggles to understand why his peers receive expensive presents while he is left listening to his mother’s excuses. He discovers that his mother has prepared 15 gifts for his future birthdays. But after learning the reason behind it, he finally realizes what he truly wants.

Charlie, a 15-year-old with a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, trudged out of school alongside his classmate Mark.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot, where students chattered and cars honked in a chaotic symphony.

“Did you hear? We’ve got another test on Friday,” Mark said, breaking the silence.

Charlie groaned, his shoulders slumping.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Oh no, not again! Is this the fourth test this week? School is exhausting…”

Mark smirked. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just studying. You always stress out before tests, but in the end, it all works out fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Charlie muttered, his eyes scanning the parking lot. His expression darkened as he frowned.

“My mom’s late again! How much longer do I have to wait?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Maybe something came up. Don’t be mad at her—she’s picking you up. You should be grateful,” Mark said with a shrug.

Charlie shot him a sideways glare.

“Yeah? I don’t see your mom’s car either. Are you super grateful that she’s late too?”

Mark chuckled softly and shook his head. “She won’t be picking me up anymore. My parents bought me a car for my birthday.”

Charlie stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“What!? A car!? I’d be grateful too if someone got me a car!” he snapped, his voice laced with jealousy.

Mark shrugged again, calm as ever. “You should be grateful no matter what. She’s your mom. Anyway, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah… bye,” Charlie mumbled, watching Mark stroll off toward the student lot.

As he stood there, stewing in frustration, a car horn blared from across the lot. Charlie spun around and saw his mom’s familiar car pulling up.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

With a sigh, he slung his backpack higher on his shoulder and jogged toward it, muttering under his breath. He opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat, his face already setting in a frown.

Alice, his mom, glanced over at him, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m late again. I had to finish up a few things,” she said apologetically.

“You’re always late these days…” Charlie muttered, avoiding her gaze as he slumped further into his seat.

Alice sighed, keeping her voice calm.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I said I’m sorry. Now, tell me—how was your day?”

“Not great,” he replied shortly, his eyes fixed on the cars passing outside.

She glanced at him again, concern flickering across her face. “What happened?”

“Mark’s parents bought him a car for his birthday,” Charlie said flatly.

Alice smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“That’s wonderful! Did he give you a ride?”

Charlie turned to her, his expression incredulous.

“No. Mom, my birthday’s coming up soon. Can you get me a car?”

Alice’s hands tightened briefly on the wheel before she answered. “Sweetheart, I already have your gift planned. Maybe I can get you a car in a few years…”

“A few years!?” Charlie’s voice rose with frustration.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“So I have to wait while all my classmates drive around, and I look like an idiot?”

Alice exhaled and tried to keep her tone gentle as she said, “I know it’s hard, but I just can’t afford a gift like that right now.”

Charlie crossed his arms, his voice sharp. “Then return whatever gift you got and buy me a car!”

“I can’t do that, Charlie. I’m sorry,” she said firmly, though her voice was tinged with sadness.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

He turned away, pressing his forehead against the window.

The hum of the engine filled the silence as Alice drove, glancing occasionally at her son, his disappointment weighing heavily on them both.

As she pulled into the driveway, the car came to a slow stop. She turned to Charlie, her face softening.

“Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry. I have a few errands to run, but I won’t be long. Love you, sweetheart!”

“Yeah…” Charlie mumbled without meeting her eyes. He swung the car door open and headed into the house.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence of the empty house wrapped around him.

He dropped his backpack by the couch but didn’t bother to sit down. Something gnawed at the back of his mind—an itch he couldn’t ignore.

His mom had seemed calm, too calm, especially after their earlier argument. Why couldn’t she just tell him what she was up to?

His curiosity got the better of him. Quietly, he tiptoed into her bedroom, the air feeling heavier as if he were crossing an invisible line.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Sitting at her desk, he opened her laptop.

The screen glowed to life, and he hesitated for a moment before clicking on her email.

Most of it was unimportant—work notices, receipts, newsletters.

Then he spotted something unusual: an email confirming a delivery scheduled for his upcoming birthday.

His brow furrowed as he clicked it open.

His eyes widened. The delivery wasn’t a one-time thing. There were 14 more planned—one every year for the next 15 years.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“What the…?” he muttered, his heart racing.

Confused and uneasy, he dug deeper, scrolling through her emails until he found an address for a storage unit.

Beneath a pile of papers in her drawer, he found a small key labeled with the same address.

His pulse quickened as he grabbed the key and headed out the door.

The storage unit loomed ahead, its metal door glinting faintly under the dull light of the parking lot.

Charlie unlocked it with trembling hands. As the door creaked open, he froze.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Inside, more than a dozen neatly wrapped gifts were arranged in a row.

They were all different sizes, some small enough to fit in his palm, others big enough to hold a bike.

Each was topped with a handwritten note in his mom’s familiar, looping script.

He stepped inside, the scent of cardboard and faint perfume hanging in the air. He picked up one note and read:

“Happy 17th birthday, sweetheart. I love you more than anything in the world. I hope you like this computer. Study hard!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

His throat tightened as he set the note back. Why had she done this?

He moved to the first gift, a small box with two notes attached. Pulling off the first, his breath caught as he began to read:

“My dear son, if you’re reading this, I may no longer be with you. For years, I’ve known I had cancer, and no treatment has worked. My time is limited, but I didn’t want your birthdays to feel empty after I’m gone.”

The words blurred as tears filled his eyes. He wiped his face, but the tears kept coming, spilling onto the paper.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“That’s why I prepared these gifts ahead of time. They may not always be exactly what you want, but please open one each birthday and know I love you. Always.”

Charlie let out a shaky breath as he clutched the note. His chest ached in a way he’d never felt before.

He looked around the storage unit, the gifts that suddenly felt so much more than just objects.

They were pieces of her love, her effort to stay with him even when she couldn’t.

He gently placed the note back, closed the door, and leaned against it for a moment.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

His heart was heavy, but it was full of something else too—a deeper understanding of what his mom had done for him.

The drive home was quiet. The world outside blurred, but his mind raced with emotions. He didn’t care about a car anymore.

What mattered now was something far greater.

Charlie stepped quietly into the living room, his shoes scuffing softly against the wooden floor.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

His mom, Alice, was perched on the couch, a book resting in her lap.

She was smiling faintly, her eyes scanning the pages, completely unaware of the emotional storm that had just swept over her son.

Charlie hesitated in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His eyes were red, swollen from crying, and his face held a mix of fear and heartbreak.

Alice looked up, her smile fading as she took in his expression. Alarm spread across her face.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Charlie! What’s wrong? Where were you?” she asked, setting the book aside and leaning forward.

“Mom!” he choked out, his voice breaking as he rushed across the room. He threw his arms around her, clinging to her tightly.

“Sweetheart, tell me what’s going on,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. She stroked his back gently, trying to calm him. “How can I help?”

Charlie pulled back slightly, his hands trembling as he wiped at his face.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I know, Mom. I went to the storage unit,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alice stiffened, her eyes widening.

“What? Why? What were you doing there?” she asked, a hint of panic creeping into her tone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlie cried, his voice breaking again.

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Alice took a deep breath, her lips quivering.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“There’s nothing, Charlie. I’m so sorry,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“No, Mom, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“I’ve been such a terrible son. I don’t need a car or any gifts. None of that matters. I just want you to be with me.”

“Charlie…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Please, Mom,” he begged, his voice desperate.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I love you!”

Alice pulled him close again, her own tears spilling over now.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” she said, her voice breaking as she held him tightly.

The room was quiet except for their soft cries, their embrace a fragile but powerful moment of love and understanding.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Every man reaches a moment when he wants to settle down and have a loving family. But not Henry—he was convinced he would stay single forever, believing it was the better life for him. However, a day spent with his nine-year-old niece makes him realize the true reason behind his life choices.

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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