His hair was neatly combed, and though the chemo had left him looking a bit pale, there was a sparkle in his eye. He wasn’t just there to pretend this time. He wanted—no, needed—to see Linda again.

She was at her usual register, hair tied up in a loose bun, her face glowing with the kind of kindness that can’t be faked. He waited until her line cleared before approaching with just a bottle of water and a single red apple.

“You again!” she smiled, clearly recognizing him despite his drastically different appearance.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Matthew said, placing the items on the counter. “I thought I’d come say thank you properly.”

Linda tilted her head. “For what?”

“For the groceries last week,” he said, then chuckled softly. “You didn’t know me, and yet you helped anyway. Not many people would do that.”

Linda shrugged modestly. “It was nothing. You looked like you needed it. Besides, my dad always said that kindness doesn’t cost a thing.”

Matthew’s smile faltered just slightly at the word dad. He recovered quickly. “He sounds like a good man.”

“The best,” Linda said with pride in her voice. “He raised me all on his own since I was a baby. Mom left when I was little, so it’s just been us. He never complained. Not once.”

Matthew swallowed hard, trying not to let the emotions show. He glanced around. “Do you get a break soon?”

Linda gave him a cautious look. “I do in about ten minutes. Why?”

“I was hoping you’d join me for a coffee. I promise I’m not a creep or anything.” He smiled gently. “Just… I could use a conversation. I’m new in town. Don’t know many people.”

Linda hesitated but then nodded. “Alright. I’ll meet you at the café across the street?”

“Perfect,” Matthew said, trying not to let his heart race.

They sat at a small corner table, sipping their coffees. Linda talked about her job, her dreams of studying to become a nurse, and how her dad worked two jobs just to keep things afloat.

“He never let me feel poor, you know?” she said. “Even when I knew money was tight, he made life feel full.”

Matthew watched her, every word another stitch in the quilt of a life he never got to share. He wanted to tell her everything, but how could he? Would it be fair to rip apart the only world she’d ever known?

“Do you ever wonder about your mom?” he asked gently.

“Not really,” she said, surprising him. “I mean, sometimes. But I figure if she wanted to be in my life, she would’ve stayed. My dad always told me some people aren’t meant to stay, and that’s okay.”

Matthew stared at her for a long moment. “What about your real dad?”

Linda blinked. “You mean my biological father?”

He nodded slowly.

“I’ve never met him,” she said. “Don’t even know his name. Dad never talks about it. I guess I used to be curious, but…” She paused. “He didn’t stick around either. So why spend time wondering about someone who didn’t fight to be in your life?”

Matthew’s heart cracked, clean down the middle. He wanted to shout that it wasn’t like that—that he had fought, that he’d never even known about her until it was too late.

But he said nothing.

The following weeks became a strange kind of routine. Matthew would visit Linda once or twice a week. Sometimes he’d bring her flowers or little gifts—a poetry book, a box of her favorite tea, a scarf in her favorite color (which he only knew from watching her wear it on rainy days).

Linda joked that he was like an uncle she never had. “You remind me of someone,” she said once, sipping tea with him on a rainy afternoon. “I don’t know who, but it feels… familiar.”

Matthew just smiled.

One day, Gregory saw them together. It was a Saturday, and they were sitting on a bench outside the store, laughing. The look on Gregory’s face was unreadable—part confusion, part worry.

Later that night, Gregory showed up at Matthew’s apartment.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell her.”

“I didn’t,” Matthew said. “I’ve said nothing. I swear.”

“Then why are you meeting her like this?”

“Because I have a few months left,” Matthew said quietly. “And I don’t want to die without knowing her. Even if it’s just as a stranger she likes. That’s enough for me.”

Gregory looked at him, really looked at him, and something softened. “She’s my everything,” he whispered. “Please don’t turn her life upside down.”

“I won’t. I love her too much for that.”

A month later, Matthew collapsed at home. His neighbor found him and called an ambulance. The cancer had spread, aggressively, faster than the doctors had predicted.

In the hospital, weak and barely conscious, he asked the nurse for one favor. “Call a young woman named Linda. She works at Brown’s Market. Tell her I said goodbye.”

The nurse made the call.

Linda arrived two hours later, breathless and pale.

“Where is he?” she asked the nurse.

“He’s still conscious, but barely.”

She walked into the room slowly. Matthew looked so different—thinner, pale, eyes sunken—but he still managed to smile when he saw her.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered.

Linda walked to his side, confused and heartbroken. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“Because I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me,” he said. “I just wanted to know you. Just a little.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Why me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then he reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a letter.

“If you ever want to know the truth,” he said, placing it in her hand, “read this after I’m gone.”

Linda gripped his hand tightly. “Don’t go yet.”

But he was already slipping.

“I love you,” he whispered. “More than you’ll ever know.”

And then, he was gone.

Two days later, Linda sat on her bed and opened the letter.

It was written in neat handwriting, with tear stains smudging the ink in places.

In it, Matthew explained everything—how he’d never known she existed until recently, how he only had months to live, how he’d watched from a distance, terrified of breaking the world Gregory had built for her.

“I never stopped loving your mother,” he wrote, “but life separated us. I didn’t know she was pregnant. I didn’t know you were out there. But the moment I found out, I came. Even if I couldn’t be your father in name, I could be someone in the background who loved you.”

Linda cried for hours.

The next morning, she went to her father—Gregory—and handed him the letter.

He read it in silence, then looked at her with red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m sorry I never told you.”

She nodded. “I get it. You were trying to protect me.”

“He was a good man,” Gregory said. “And he loved you.”

“I know,” Linda whispered. “I could feel it. Even before I knew.”

Months passed. Linda went on to nursing school, her dream fueled by the strength of two fathers—one who raised her, and one who watched over her, even in silence.

She kept a framed photo of Matthew in her room—one Gregory had shared from years ago.

Two men. Two kinds of love.

And one girl who was forever changed by both.

Life has a strange way of bringing people together, even when it’s too late for the life they could have shared. But love? Love always finds a way to leave its mark.

If this story moved you, share it. You never know who might need to read it today. ❤️