We had everything planned. We had our whole life planned. We had grandiose dreams and goals and were slowly and surely working towards them. We were going to grow our business and turn it into an empire. We were going to see our daughters graduate from med school and become doctors! We were going to retire with a comfy little nest egg and see travel with just the two of us again. We will be like newlyweds again. We were going to grow old together. He promised! We promised each other!

Then one day all those plans, and dreams, and promises disappeared.

It was sudden and unexpected. One moment we were relaxing on the sofa and the next minute he was clutching his chest, unable to speak.

The next few days were a blur. I remember being in the hospital the girls were confused and cying, looking for their dad. Then there was a sea of faces coming up to me whispering and murmuring their condolences as they awkwardly tried to give comfort. There were a multitude of paperworks and forms I had to accomplish and submit and file. The acquaintances were the first to disappear, then the friends trickled out, and lastly were the relatives. And finally, nothing.

After the sea of people around me, I was again left alone. Grief wanted to take over, but I was also gripped with the questions like, “What am I going to do now?”, “How am I going to raise the girls on my own?”, “Can I do it?”

The bell rang. I was irritated. I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I heard my daughters knocking on the door, so I knew it was someone they knew.

The bell rang again. I sighed and forced myself to get up from the bed.

My friend and financial consultant was at the door, giving me a sad smile and a hug. The tears fell again, but she silently held my hand and lent her shoulder when I needed it.

After a while, she spoke, “I know you might not want to see anyone right now, but I promised him that if something happens, I should give this to you once things settle down. That’s why I’m here.”

She handed me two things: a check for 5 million and a letter from him. Before I can even open the letter, on the envelope, it said in his clumsy writing, “Sorry I broke my promise, but please fulfill our dreams.”

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