After losing my wife Emily in a plane crash, I learned to live with regret. I spent 23 years mourning my lost love, but fate had another encounter with her in store for me — and a stunning truth I could never have imagined.
I stood at Emily’s grave, running my fingers over the cold marble headstone. Twenty-three years, and the pain was still fresh. The roses I had brought stood out brightly against the grey stone, like drops of blood on snow.
‘I’m sorry, Em,’ I whispered, the words catching in my throat. ‘I should have listened to you.’
My phone vibrated, pulling me out of my thoughts. I almost ignored it, but habit made me glance at the screen.
‘Abraham?’ My business partner James’s voice crackled over the speaker. ‘Sorry to bother you on the day of your visit to the cemetery.’
‘It’s fine,’ I cleared my throat, trying to sound normal. ‘What’s up?’
‘Our new employee from Germany is arriving in a few hours. Can you meet him? I have meetings all day.’
I took one last look at Emily’s gravestone.
‘Sure, I’ll pick him up.’
‘Thanks, mate. Her name is Elsa. She lands at 2:30 p.m.’
‘Send me the flight details. I’ll be there.’
Meeting Elsa
The arrivals hall was buzzing with activity as I held a hastily made sign that read ‘ELSA.’
A young woman with honey-blonde hair caught my eye and headed towards me, pulling her suitcase behind her. Something about her movements and posture made my heart skip a beat.
‘Sir?’ Her accent was slight but noticeable. ‘I’m Elsa.’
‘Welcome to Chicago, Elsa. Please call me Abraham.’
‘Abraham,’ she smiled, and for a moment I felt dizzy. That smile… It reminded me of something I couldn’t quite remember.
‘Shall we get your luggage?’ I suggested, quickly dismissing the strange thoughts.
On the way to the office, she talked about her move from Munich and how excited she was about her new job. There was something strangely familiar about her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I said, ‘but on Thursdays the team usually has lunch together. Would you like to join us?’
“That would be wonderful! In Germany, they say, ‘Lunch is half the workday.
I laughed. “We have a similar saying… ‘Time flies when you’re having lunch!
‘That’s awful!’ she giggled. ‘I like it.’
Learning the truth
Within a few months, Elsa had proven herself to be an indispensable employee. She had my attention to detail and determination. Sometimes, watching her, I caught myself thinking that she reminded me painfully of my late wife.
‘Abraham?’ One afternoon, Elsa knocked on my office door. ‘My mother is coming from Germany next week. Would you like to have dinner with us? She really wants to meet my new “American family”. That is, my boss!’
I smiled at her choice of words. ‘I’d be delighted.’
The restaurant was quiet and elegant. Elsa’s mother, Elke, stared at me so intently that I felt uncomfortable. When Elsa excused herself and went to the restroom, Elke grabbed me sharply by the shoulder.
‘Don’t you dare look at my daughter like that,’ she hissed.
I recoiled. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard me. I know everything about you, Abraham. Everything.’
I turned pale. ‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’
‘Let me tell you a story,’ she interrupted, her voice almost a whisper.
And she told me a story about a woman who loved her husband more than life itself, but he didn’t believe her when it mattered most…
And then I understood.
‘Emily?’ I whispered.
She nodded.
‘Are you alive?’
‘Alive.’
I looked at Elsa, and suddenly it all came together.
‘Is she my daughter?’
Emily nodded with difficulty.
When Elsa returned, she found us in tears.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Sit down, dear,’ Emily said softly. ‘We need to talk.’
Elsa turned pale as she listened to the truth about her origins.
‘Dad?’ she finally said.
I nodded, and without hesitation, she threw her arms around my neck.
A Second Chance
The next few weeks were filled with endless conversations. I tried to understand how I had lost not only my wife but also my daughter.
‘I don’t expect everything to go back to the way it was,’ Emily said one day. ‘But maybe we can build something new… for her sake.’
I looked at Elsa. My daughter.
I had been blind.
One evening, we were sitting in my garden watching the sunset, and Emily told me about the disaster.
‘I was one of 12 survivors,’ she said quietly. ‘When they found me, I was unconscious, holding the passport of a woman named Elke. She didn’t survive.’
‘Why didn’t you find me?’ My voice broke.
She smiled bitterly.
‘Did you recognise your daughter? You worked with her every day.’
And then I understood: sometimes love isn’t about perfect endings. It’s about second chances.
And if you’re lucky, something even more beautiful can rise from the ashes of the past.
