At 18, I married Daniel despite my father’s disapproval. My father predicted a life of poverty with him, but I didn’t care. Our modest life was happy at first, but things changed when my father passed, leaving everything to my brother. Daniel, devastated, became distant, working long overtime hours.
I started noticing odd things: Daniel coming home late smelling of lilies and our finances remaining tight despite his extra work. I doubted his loyalty, thinking he was hiding something, but he denied it.
After 50 years, Daniel had a heart attack, and his last words were, “I love you, only you…” After his death, I discovered a locked suitcase in his garage. Inside were bundles of cash and a journal detailing how Daniel secretly worked a second job for 12 years, saving money for our future. He’d sacrificed everything to ensure I had a better life.
Reading his journal, I realized how wrong I had been to doubt him. He had saved over $300,000 for us. I whispered, “I love you, Daniel, and I regret not trusting you.”
