Jimmy was stunned when the homeless man he’d bought coffee for earlier boarded the plane and sat beside him in first class. Who was he and why was he asking for money in the first place?
I’d never thought much about destiny until I met Kathy.
Three months ago, she walked into my life, and within weeks, she became my world. People called me crazy for proposing after just a month, but I couldn’t ignore the way everything fell into place with her.
A woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney
We shared the same outlook on life, the same love for skiing, and even a mutual obsession with science fiction novels. It felt like the universe was nudging me, whispering, she’s the one.
Now, here I was, flying out to meet her parents for the first time.
Kathy warned me about her dad, David. She called him a stern man who didn’t give his approval easily. But she also insisted he had a good heart and loved her more than anything.
A woman sitting with her phone in her hand | Source: Midjourney
To be honest, I was scared. I knew I just had one shot to prove I was worthy of his daughter, and I didn’t want to mess it up.
I’d arrived at the airport too early, nerves pushing me to leave home long before I needed to. To kill time, I ducked into a cozy little coffee shop across the street.
The hum of conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee were a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in my head.
That’s when I noticed him.
A man sitting in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
The man shuffled in, wearing tattered clothes. His face had wrinkles that showed he had worked hard all his life. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and his eyes, though tired, darted around the room like he was searching for something.
I watched as he approached a few tables, speaking softly to the people seated there.
People in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
Most people shook their heads, avoided eye contact, or offered an awkward apology. Then, he stopped in front of my table.
“Excuse me,” he said politely. “Could you spare some change? Just enough for a coffee.”
I hesitated. My first instinct was to decline. Not because I didn’t care, but because I wasn’t sure how much to trust him. You know, some people are genuine while others are just looking for handouts.
But something about him felt different. He wasn’t pushy, and he looked embarrassed to be asking.
A close-up shot of an older man | Source: Midjourney
“What kind of coffee do you want?” I asked.
“Jamaican Blue Mountain,” he said, almost sheepishly. “I’ve heard it’s really good.”
I almost laughed. It was the priciest option on the menu. For a moment, I thought he might be joking. But the way he looked at me made me stop.
“Why that one?” I asked.
“It’s my birthday,” he smiled. “Always wanted to try it. Figured… why not today?”
A part of me wanted to roll my eyes.
Sure, it’s your birthday, I thought.
But another part of me decided to believe him.
A man lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
“Alright,” I said, standing up. “Let’s get you that coffee.”
His face lit up with a genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said.
I didn’t just buy him the coffee, though. I added a slice of cake to the order because, honestly, what’s a birthday without cake? When I handed him the tray, I gestured to the empty chair at my table.
“Sit,” I said. “Tell me your story.”
For a second, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if I meant it.
A coffee mug on a table | Source: Pexels
But then he sat down, cradling the coffee cup like it was something sacred. And he started to talk.
His name was David, and he’d lost everything years ago, including his family, his job, and even his home. Betrayal and bad luck had played their parts, but he didn’t make excuses.
He spoke plainly, with a kind of raw honesty that made it impossible not to listen.
As I sat there, I realized this wasn’t just a man looking for a handout. This was someone who’d been broken by life but hadn’t given up.
A close-up shot of an older man’s eye | Source: Pexels
By the time he finished his story, I felt a lump in my throat I couldn’t quite swallow. I slipped him $100 before leaving, but he tried to refuse it.
“Consider this a gift from my side, man,” I told him. “And happy birthday!”
I walked out of that café thinking I’d done a small, good thing for a stranger. I’d never imagined I’d see him again. Or that he’d turn my entire world upside down just a few hours later.
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
The airport was buzzing with its usual chaos as I sat in the first-class waiting area, sipping another cup of coffee.
My nerves about meeting Kathy’s parents had calmed somewhat, but the thought of her father loomed large in my mind. What if he didn’t like me? What if he thought I wasn’t good enough for her?
I picked up my phone to text Kathy, who had already reached her parents’ place.
I’m super nervous, I wrote. How’s it going there?
Everything’s great, she texted back. I’m sure Dad’s going to love you.
When the boarding call came, I joined the line and found my seat near the window.
The view from an airplane’s window | Source: Pexels
First class felt like a luxury I didn’t deserve, but Kathy insisted I spoil myself for once. As I buckled in and glanced around, I couldn’t help but think about the man from the café. His story had stuck with me.
I hoped the $100 I’d given him would make his birthday a little brighter.
Just as I was settling in, a figure stepped into the aisle. My heart nearly stopped as I looked at his face.
A man sitting in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
It was him. The same man from the café.
But he wasn’t wearing the tattered clothes from earlier.
No, this man was in a sharp, tailored suit, his hair neatly combed, and a gleaming watch on his wrist.
He caught my eye and smirked.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked casually, sliding into the seat next to me.
I stared, my brain refusing to process the scene in front of me. “What… what’s going on here?”
He leaned back, a sly grin on his face. “Let’s call it… a test.”
An older man in an airplane | Source: Midjourney
“A test?” I repeated. “What are you talking about?”
The man chuckled softly as he pulled out a sleek notebook from his bag.
“Let me introduce myself properly. I’m David.” He paused, watching my reaction. “Kathy’s father.”
“Wait… you’re her dad?” I blurted out. “The one I’m flying out to meet?”
“The very same,” he said, still grinning. “You see, I’ve always believed in a hands-on approach. I wanted to see who my daughter’s fiancé really is outside the polished dinner introductions and carefully rehearsed answers.”
A close-up shot of an older man’s face | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t believe it. Why didn’t Kathy tell me about this? Was she a part of this plan?
“So, this was all an act?” I asked.
“A necessary one,” he replied calmly. “It’s easy to show kindness when everyone’s watching. But I wanted to know how you’d treat a stranger, especially one who seemed to have nothing to offer you. Turns out, you passed the first part.”
“The first part?” I echoed. “How many parts are there?”
He opened the notebook and handed me a pen. “Just one more. Write a letter to Kathy.”
“A letter?”
A young man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“Yes,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Tell her why you love her, why you want to marry her, and how you’ll take care of her. Don’t overthink it. Be honest.”
I stared at the blank page as beads of sweat formed on my temples. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. But as much as I wanted to protest, I knew I couldn’t.
So, I started writing.
At first, the words came slowly, stumbling over thoughts and emotions. But soon, the pen seemed to move on its own.
A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels
I wrote about how Kathy made me feel complete, how her laughter could brighten my darkest days, and how I wanted to build a life with her filled with trust and joy.
By the time I finished, my hand ached, but my heart felt lighter.
However, I still wasn’t sure if I’d pass the test. What if this was a trick question? What if David’s test wasn’t as simple as it looked?
A close-up shot of a man sitting near in the window seat | Source: Midjourney
After I handed him the notebook, he looked at it for a moment. Then, he looked up with a smile.
“You passed,” he said. “Welcome to the family.”
I felt so relieved after hearing those words.
This man, who had just tested me in the most unexpected way, extended his hand. I shook it firmly, knowing I had crossed the final hurdle.
“Now, let’s see how well you do at home,” he said.
An older man in a black suit | Source: Midjourney
When we finally landed and deboarded, I was both physically and mentally exhausted. As we walked through the terminal, I tried to steady my breathing, hoping I’d done enough to impress him, but my nerves were still fraying at the edges.
The drive to Kathy’s parents’ house was quiet. She and her mother were waiting for us there.
Meanwhile, my mind was racing with thoughts of what the evening would bring. I wasn’t just meeting her parents anymore. I had passed the “test.” But what did that even mean? Would David’s approval be enough? What would happen at their home?
Cars on a road | Source: Pexels
When we arrived, Kathy’s mother, Susan, greeted us warmly. Kathy’s brothers and sister were there too.
David, however, kept his usual serious demeanor, eyeing me across the table. I couldn’t tell if he was still evaluating me or simply reserving judgment.
Dinner was an uncomfortable affair, with everyone making polite conversation while David sat back, watching everything closely.
Every time I spoke, he would nod or grunt, never offering much in return. Kathy’s siblings were easygoing, but David’s silence was almost deafening.
I couldn’t help but wonder, Did I really pass?
A man sitting for dinner in his house | Source: Midjourney
As the meal drew to a close, David set down his wine glass and cleared his throat.
“You’ve done well, Jimmy,” he said. “You’ve shown me who you really are. And that means something.”
Kathy squeezed my hand under the table.
“I’ve always known you were the right one for me,” she whispered.
“I’ve seen enough to know he’ll take care of you,” he said while smiling at his daughter. “You’ve got my blessing.”
A man smiling at his daughter | Source: Midjourney
I was super happy at that point, but there was something unspoken in the way David looked at me.
After dinner, as Kathy and I helped her parents clean up, I thought everything had fallen into place.
That’s when I stumbled upon a folded piece of paper on the counter.
As I unfolded it, I realized it was a receipt for a cup of coffee from the café I had visited earlier that morning. The one where I met David.
A young man looking at a receipt | Source: Midjourney
The receipt wasn’t for the coffee I bought for David, though. There was an additional charge at the bottom.
“Extra donation — $100.”
I picked it up and turned to Kathy.
“What’s this?” I asked her.
“Oh, that’s my dad’s way of tying up loose ends.”
I frowned, confused. “Loose ends?”
She leaned against the counter, her eyes twinkling. “You gave him $100 at the café, remember? He didn’t keep it. He handed it to the café staff and told them to count it as an extra donation after you left.”
“And… how do you know that? Did you know about his plan all along? Were you a part of it?”
A man talking to his fiancée | Source: Midjourney
She gave me a sly smile.
“Well, I was,” she said. “You didn’t think it was just about the coffee, did you? And how do you think Dad knew about your flight? Of course, it was me, Jimmy.”
At that point, I realized I wasn’t marrying into a regular family. These people were very special, and they wanted me to realize the importance of generosity. And what it meant to be a part of this family
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.
I Gifted My Late Wife’s Apron to My Daughter-in-Law – Imagine My Shock When I Found It in the Dumpster
As Thanksgiving approaches, William mourns his wife, Ellen, and wonders how he’s going to spend their favorite holiday without her. But his daughter-in-law, Amelia, loves to cook and has taken to cooking for dinner. Moved by his feelings and nostalgia, William gifts her Ellen’s most loved and worn apron. But when he finds the apron in the garbage, he realizes that his hurt goes all the way back to his grief, fueling a reaction.
It was the morning before Thanksgiving, and I was feeling the full weight of Ellen not being around anymore. This was the first Thanksgiving without my wife, who had passed away almost a year ago.
A rose on a tombstone | Source: Freepik
I sat on the armchair in my bedroom and left my newspaper to the side. If Ellen were still around, she would have had an entire shopping list ready for me to get.
“It’s just the last-minute things, William,” she would say, absentmindedly doodling on the grocery list while she pondered what else we would need.
A woman writing | Source: Unsplash
“Sure, honey,” I’d always tell her, ready to go to the store and get her everything she needed.
But this year was the first time in 30 years that I wouldn’t have Ellen around for the holidays.
Instead, my son’s wife, Amelia, promised us that she would take over the Thanksgiving dinner.
A smiling young woman | Source: Freepik
“Don’t worry, Dad,” my son, Harry, told me. “Amelia cooks just like Mom, and Mom taught her a few things, too.”
I wasn’t worried about anything. If I had to be honest, I was grateful that the kitchen would be used in all its glory once again. Since Ellen passed away, Harry and Amelia had moved in with me.
A fancy kitchen | Source: Unsplash
“It won’t be for long, Dad,” Harry said. “But I don’t want you to be alone. And this way, Amelia and I can save up for a house in the meantime. We all need to heal together.”
When they moved in, I tried to put a lot of Ellen’s things away. I wanted them to feel at home, too.
Packing boxes | Source: Unsplash
I couldn’t argue with Harry because the thought of being alone in the house that Ellen and I had built was too much. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to cope without her.
I needed the support from my son.
A smiling old man | Source: Unsplash
The longer I sat in my room, wrapped in the thoughts of my wife, the more sentimental I got. Eventually, I decided to pass on something priceless to Amelia.
Opening Ellen’s closet, I pulled out her faded floral apron. It had been around for as long as I could remember, and every holiday had at least one photograph of Ellen in it.
A floral apron | Source: Pexels
There were a few food stains that just couldn’t be removed, but I thought that it added charm to the apron.
I thought that maybe if I passed the apron to Amelia, who shared Ellen’s passion for cooking, she would honor Ellen’s memory and Thanksgiving traditions.
An elderly woman cooking | Source: Pexels
The following morning, I was sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when Amelia came in, tying her hair and pulling up her sleeves.
“Hi, William,” she said. “Ready for Thanksgiving?”
A man pouring milk into a bowl | Source: Pexels
“Of course, I am,” I said, smiling at her. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do in the kitchen today.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Harry isn’t going to help at all. He’s probably going to watch the parade or look for sports on TV.”
“There’s something I want you to have,” I told her.
A person watching sport on TV | Source: Pexels
I put the folded apron onto the counter and slid it across to her.
“Ellen would have wanted you to have this, Amelia,” I said. “This was her favorite apron, and she wore it for every holiday that involved the kitchen.”
Amelia smiled at me. It was a polite smile; maybe it was a bit strained, but I dismissed it as my own sentimentality clouding my judgment.
A woman with a forced smile | Source: Pexels
She put the apron on, her face changing slightly when she saw how well-worn it was and the old food stains.
“Great, thank you,” she said. “Let’s cook!”
We spent the next few hours cooking together. Amelia did things differently than Ellen. From her cooking style to the actual ingredients used.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
I obeyed all her instructions and watched everything she did. It was different from what I was used to. But I still loved that Amelia was stepping up and taking control of the family holidays.
“Do you think we should do a table setting like what Ellen would have done?” she asked me.
A table setting and decor | Source: Unsplash
“Of course,” I said. “It’s just part of the tradition!”
“Then maybe we should get Harry onto that,” she suggested.
The rest of the day flew by in the kitchen with cooking preparations. Every single time I thought of Ellen, I distracted myself with another task.
A man chopping mushrooms | Source: Pexels
I watched as Amelia bustled around the kitchen in what seemed like genuine delight. As our closest family and friends began showing up for dinner, I went upstairs to freshen up for the occasion.
Everything was perfect, including Harry’s table setting. I missed Ellen throughout the evening, especially when the pies came out. My wife had a tradition of eating two slices of pie, one pecan and one pumpkin.
A pumpkin pie | Source: Pexels
“It’s the one time of year that I eat them,” she would say, spraying whipped cream all over the slices of pie on her plate.
Now, as Harry cut into the pumpkin pie, he caught my eye and smiled, handing me the first piece.
“For Mom,” he said.
Cream on a slice of pie | Source: Pexels
Everything seemed perfect. I went to bed that evening feeling as though my wife had been present. She was there, in the quiet moments after the dinner party, when I loaded the dishwasher and made myself a cup of tea.
But then, with the next morning came a different set of heartbreak.
A person stocking the dishwasher | Source: Unsplash
I was out, taking my usual walk around the block. While taking a shortcut back home through the alley behind our house, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. A glimpse of floral fabric, peering out from the top of our dumpster.
A man talking a walk | Source: Pexels
It was Ellen’s apron, discarded and partially covered in the newspaper that I had been reading and other refuse.
My heart sank, bringing a different sense of grief to me.
The apron that held so many cherished memories of Ellen was thrown away like common trash.
Outdoor trashcans | Source: Pexels
I retrieved the apron, the dew having made it damp in the crisp morning.
“How could Amelia do this?” I asked myself.
It felt like a betrayal, not just of Ellen’s memory, but of the love and trust that I had placed in her.
An old man holding his chin | Source: Unsplash
I could have let it go. I would have chalked it up to Amelia not wanting to wear something old, or even not wanting to wear something that once belonged to her mother-in-law. But it was the cold way in which she had discarded it.
Determined to teach her a lesson about respect and the value of memories, I thought that I’d sit down to tea with her and talk about cooking. It was the one thing that we constantly bonded over.
A cup of tea | Source: Pexels
Amelia agreed, unaware that I knew about the apron. She followed me up the stairs, and I led her to the attic.
“Come on,” I said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Oh, William,” she said when she looked around the attic and saw the neatly preserved boxes.
An attic with stacked boxes and clothing | Source: Midjourney
“I’ve never been in here,” she said. “I didn’t know that we had an attic in this house.”
I stepped aside, allowing her to get into the room properly.
“Since you didn’t find value in the apron, maybe you’ll find something here that you won’t just throw away,” I said, my voice colder than I intended.
A woman covering her face with her hands | Source: Pexels
Amelia, visibly uncomfortable, shifted from foot to foot.
“William, I…” she began, her voice trailing off when she saw the apron hanging from a hook across the room.
I stood in silence as she tried to apologize, but her words seemed hollow.
A woman holding her face | Source: Pexels
“Look,” I said. “Maybe I forced it onto you, and I’m sorry about that, Amelia. But at the same time, I just thought that it would have been something to pass on to you. Not to mention that it was comforting for Harry and me to see.”
She nodded, nervously looking at the door. She was probably wondering if I had told Harry about the incident. I hadn’t. I didn’t want to create any unpleasantness between them.
A couple sitting uncomfortably | Source: Pexels
But I still felt like a rift had been caused between us. As we continued to live under the same roof, I kept to myself as much as possible. I wasn’t angry with Amelia. I was hurt.
I was hurt on behalf of myself, of Ellen, and even Harry, who didn’t know any better.
I knew that I would get over it eventually, but for now, I just needed to let myself grieve my wife, and keep her memory strong.
A smiling old couple | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
Leave a Reply