Patrick’s fiancée, Marianne, disappeared without a trace at their wedding. No one knew what happened, even her own mother. But years later, he had to deliver a package to a wealthy neighborhood in New York and discovered the shocking truth.
Patrick was a delivery guy, and he liked his life, or he used to. He had the job for several years, and he always dreamed of a simple life.
He was planning to share that life with his girlfriend, Marianne. They were supposed to get married five years ago, but she disappeared suddenly. Even her mother, Mrs. Young, had no idea where she went.
He couldn’t contact her, but he saw that she had packed her things from their home, making him believe she had done it on purpose, and that’s when he decided to give her up. If she didn’t want to marry me, I’m better off alone, he thought back then.
But his life became empty. His dreams of having a simple life with an adoring family were gone in a second, and it seemed like nothing was worth living for anymore.
Marianne abandoned Patrick on their wedding day. | Source: Shutterstock
As a delivery guy, he usually left packages at people’s doors and left. He seldom saw the buyers. But this time was different. He drove through an expensive neighborhood in New York, filled with brownstone houses that had to cost millions of dollars, and was impressed.
He pulled up to an address, grabbed a package, and placed it at the door, taking a picture with his phone as proof. As he was leaving, he stopped to admire some of the plants located right at the entrance. They were beautiful. Suddenly, the door opened.
“Oh, hello sir! You brought my package quicker than expected. Thank you so much,” a female voice said, and Patrick turned around to greet the woman. Then he froze.
“Marianne?” he whispered after his initial shock wore off.
The woman looked up from checking the package, and her mouth went slack. “Patrick?” she uttered. “Jesus. What are you doing here?”
Patrick delivered a package and was surprised to see someone he knew. | Source: Pexels
“What do you mean? I’m a delivery driver. You have known me for many years. What I want to know is why are you here? Is this your house?” he asked indignantly.
“Yes, this is my house. Now, leave, please. I have no time for this,” Marianne replied and motioned to return inside.
“No! You have to explain what happened. You left me at the altar! You abandoned me and our relationship. It was our wedding, Marianne, I think I deserve an explanation!” Patrick demanded, stopping her from hiding inside her house by grabbing her arm.
“I don’t owe you anything, Patrick. Now, leave before I call the police, and NEVER come back here!” Marianne yelled, freed her arm, and slammed the door in his face.
Patrick couldn’t do anything, especially in such a ritzy neighborhood. But he had to know the truth.
When Marianne first left him, her mother had no idea what happened. And then Patrick lost touch with the older woman. But she had to know now. That’s why he gave her a call.
He called Mrs. Young who explained everything in detail. | Source: Pexels
“Mrs. Young, I just found your daughter in one of the priciest neighborhoods in New York. You must know where she lives by now. Please, tell me the truth,” he begged.
The older woman seemed to take pity on him. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I knew all along what she was going to do, although I hoped she would see reason. It’s time you know the truth,” Mrs. Young began. “Marianne discovered she was pregnant a month before the wedding, but she wanted more than an average life for her child.”
“You mean more money, right?”
“Yes. She started dating this man and pretended to be pregnant with his child. They got married and have been living there since then,” Mrs. Young revealed. “Please, Patrick. My grandson deserves to have a great life. That man is insanely rich. He’ll have the best of everything. Don’t mess with that.”
Patrick found Marianne's husband and told him the truth. | Source: Pexels
“But he’s my son, Mrs. Young,” Patrick mumbled, almost crying after what he discovered.
“It doesn’t matter,” the older woman added and hung up the phone.
But Patrick would not let the matter rest. He discovered the name of Marianne’s husband, Thomas, and visited him at his office one day. He revealed the entire truth about what happened five years ago. Thomas didn’t want to believe it.
“You can get a DNA test for the kid, and you’ll see he’s not your son. Please, Marianne wronged me terribly, and I deserve to have my son in my life,” Patrick pled. Thomas nodded softly and left. Patrick could only hope that he would follow his advice.
He didn’t hear from Marianne or Thomas for a long time after that and thought that Thomas had decided that a DNA test didn’t matter. But there was a knock on his door one day, and Marianne was right outside.
Marianne yelled at him for what he did. | Source: Pexels
“What are you doing here?” Patrick asked, catching the bag of clothes that Marianne threw at him.
“I hope you’re happy! My husband threw me and our baby out! YOU IDIOT! YOUR CHILD HAD EVERYTHING!” she yelled, throwing more stuff at him. Then she went back to her car.
“You mean YOU had everything,” Patrick called out to her and watched as a five-year-old boy exited her car.
“Yes, what’s so wrong about that? Now I have nothing, so you must now take responsibility. Billy, this is your real father. You’ll be staying with him from now on,” Marianne said and pushed the kid toward him and left.
Patrick couldn’t believe it. She had just abandoned her child, and the boy began to cry. “Hey, Billy. Don’t worry, ok? I’m your dad. I’ll take care of you from now on,” he told the child, but the poor boy didn’t stop crying for a long time.
Billy cried but adapted eventually. | Source: Pexels
Luckily, kids are resilient. They can adapt to things easier than most adults, and eventually, Billy adapted to having a new father and living with the absence of his mother. Patrick decided to do his best at work to give his son everything he would ever need, and they never heard from Marianne ever again.
He finally had something to live for, and life was sweeter than ever.
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