Elderly Cook Feeds Homeless Man after Shift Daily, Notices Missing Husband's Watch on His Wrist — Story of the Day

Helen, an elderly cook, feeds a homeless guy daily and notices her missing husband's watch on his wrist one evening. What follows is Helen's struggle to find her husband, who never returned from the war almost 20 years ago. Will Helen succeed this time? Or is she in for another heartbreak?

The continuous clatter of dishes faded as Helen slipped the last plate into the dish rack. She could hear the murmuring of other restaurant staff and of waiters rushing in and out of the kitchen door with orders as she finished washing the dishes.

The restaurant still buzzed with life at this hour. She wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and turned off the tap. A sizzling sound emanated from a stove somewhere nearby as her gaze ran to the wall clock above the kitchen's backdoor.

It had been an exhausting day, but thankfully, her shift was over. She removed her apron and leaned against the counter, closing her eyes for a moment.

Working as a cook and dishwasher at this New York restaurant was not something she had imagined for herself. But when things had taken an unexpected turn in her life, she barely had a choice.

"Another day conquered in the kitchen? Wanna grab a drink?" a familiar voice snapped her to the present...

Helen opened her eyes to see Martin, the head cook. She knew Martin wasn't asking her out on a quick drink just to relieve her blues. He had been trying to take her out on a date for months now. She sometimes wondered if saying yes would actually help her move forward in life.

"Thanks, but some other time, Martin," She politely declined him again. "I have some things on my mind."

"Come on, Helen," he insisted. "You can't let it hold you back forever. Life outside is waiting for you. Just this one time, please? For a change?"

Helen sighed. She was tired of hearing him say the same things over and over again. She was 52, and he was 61. He was a nice man, a good colleague who helped her whenever she was stuck. But that was all he was for her, and he would never replace her husband, Jonathan, although she had no idea if Jonathan was even…alive.

"See you tomorrow, Martin. Good night," she answered and walked away as if she hadn't heard a word he said.

Martin further said something about booking a table for them the coming Saturday as she was taking the trash out, but she didn't hear what it was. She stepped out into the chilly night, holding the trash bag in one hand, and swiftly headed to the dumpster.

As she dropped the bag in the can, her gaze fell on the homeless man rummaging through the nearby bins.

There he was again. Helen knew life wasn't easy for everyone. Her own life had been anything but pleasant after Jonathan left her. But at least she'd never had to suffer from the lack of food or shelter.

She returned to the kitchen and packed some leftover chicken soup and baguette for the poor man, hoping he would be there when she returned. And he was.

"Excuse me, sir!" she called out, and the man looked up from the cans toward her. She quickly approached him.

"Here," She extended the paper bag to him. "The chicken soup in here is still warm. And I packed some bread as well. The weather is really chilly tonight, isn't it? Have this; you'll feel better."

The man hesitated. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Nobody is ever kind to homeless folks like me, and then there's you who brings me food daily."

Helen smiled. "Because I guess I can afford to be kind?" she said. "No one should go hungry. All yours," she insisted, pointing at the leftovers.

The man finally extended his hands and accepted the paper bag with gratitude. "Thank you, ma'am. Bless you," he said when Helen's eyes caught something on the man's wrist.

"Oh god, this can't be…" she gasped quietly, her gaze fixed on the watch on his wrist. A chill ran down Helen's spine, and her eyes widened in shock. She looked at the homeless man and froze for a second.

How did he have the watch Jonathan had been wearing 20 years ago when he went to the war? Helen would never fail to recognize it. It was custom made and she given it to Jonathan the day he left for Iraq.

"Are you alright?" the homeless man asked, noticing her pale face. "How about you go back in there, ma'am? It's too cold for you here."

"The watch…the one you're wearing!" she blurted. Tears sprang into Helen's eyes as she continued.

"Whe-where did you find it, sir?" she asked. "Please, I want to know. It's my husband's! I've been looking for him for years. Oh, God, I thought of the worst. I even thought he never made it after the war, sir. Please, help me out. Can you take me to the watch's owner?"

The man hesitated. "I, uh, I stole the watch yesterday, ma'am," he admitted, embarrassed, and his gaze darted to the ground. "I met this guy at the bar across the street—the one that's open 24/7. I thought I could sell the watch later and buy some food."

Helen quickly pulled out her phone. "Did the man you stole from look like him?" she asked, showing him an old picture of her husband. "He must be some 20 years older than in the photo."

The homeless man shook his head. He really didn't recognize the guy in the picture. He said the man he had stolen from looked nothing like Helen's husband.

"The guy I met is Thomas. He's a regular there," the homeless man said, removing the watch and giving it to her. "You can keep it. This is the least I can do to return your kindness. Hope you find your husband, ma'am. Sayonara."

The homeless man disappeared into the night, and holding her husband's watch, Helen burst into tears. Only she knew how long she had waited for Jonathan.

They were newly married when he had to leave for Iraq to serve their nation. He had promised her he would return, but years had gone by, and she was still waiting for him to show up at their door and tell her, "I kept my promise, Helen. See, I'm back!"

Firstly, his letters had stopped, and then one day, she received communication from the Army that they had not been able to get in touch with Jonathan. He had gone missing.

Helen had sobbed like a child that day, but somewhere, she had been hopeful that her Jonathan would return home to her. Alive and safe.

So Helen's heart raced as she stood at the bar's entrance. In all these years, this was the first lead that her husband might be alive and waiting for her.

The wooden door creaked open as she stepped inside. The dimly lit bar buzzed with the low hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter.

Helen scanned the room, but she had no idea how she would find Thomas. She didn't know what he looked like.

Suddenly, a sharp voice made her flinch. "Hey, you there! That's my watch!"

Helen turned to look at a table in one of the corners where a man, no younger than 40, jumped to his feet. His other pals, who seemed to be drinking, stared at her. She stepped back as he approached her angrily.

"That's my watch you're holding in your hands, lady!" he snapped. "So you were the one who stole it straight outta my pocket!"

"No, I'm not that person. And sir, I know this watch isn't yours!" Helen replied sternly, raising her one hand to signal him to stop. "This watch belongs to my husband, and I want to know how you got it."

"Quit lying, and hand over the watch!" he yelled, lunging at her to take it, but Helen dodged him.

"A homeless man stole it from you!" she cried. "I did not! Let me explain, please! Are you Thomas?"

"Yes, I am! So what?" he hissed.

Helen told him everything that had happened — about the homeless man confessing to the theft, how she had spotted it on his wrist — and how she had been waiting for Jonathan all these years.

"Do you know where my husband is? Look, this watch is the only way I can find him. Trust me; I will return the watch to you once I find my husband."

A grin flickered across the man's face. "Will you, now?" he asked with a smirk. "I'll tell you what I know, lady, but it won't be easy. How about a game of dice?" he proposed. "If you win, you keep the damn watch, and I will tell you how I got it. But if you lose…" His gaze traveled to the gold pendant around her neck. "That chain of yours is mine."

Helen's hands instinctively went to the necklace that dangled from her neck. She hesitated momentarily, thinking that if she lost this game, she would lose the chance of finding Jonathan and her pendant, which was so dear to her.

But this was her only opportunity to solve the mystery of her missing husband.

"If you're ready, hand over the watch," Thomas said, extending his palm.

"Fine," Helen said after a pause, handing it over. "I'm ready. Let's play."

The bar gathered around, making a makeshift circle as Thomas produced a set of two dice — one for him, the other for Helen. The game was simple: the one who secured a total of 100 first would win. Helen and Thomas took turns rolling their dice.

Helen noticed that, for some reason, he would get a higher score at every turn. If things continued like this, she would never win. Her palms went cold just thinking about the mere possibility of losing.

And it was then she noticed something — she would never win no matter how hard she tried because there was a subtle inconsistency in the way Thomas's dice landed on the table.

Helen waited for him to roll the dice again, and there it was! Her suspicions were confirmed — his dice was loaded!

"This game is over!" she cried as she jumped to her feet. "I don't want to play further! Did you really think you could fool me?"

Helen reached across the table and grabbed his dice. "This thing is weighted, isn't it? I've been a cook for years, and just in case you didn't know, we need to be precise with measuring ingredients, Thomas. My sense of precision proves me right, doesn't it?"

The confidence in her demeanor made Thomas's face flush in embarrassment. Faint murmurs echoed around them. A few people gasped, and eventually, the room burst into applause for Helen.

Thomas' shoulders slumped, and he accepted his defeat. Since he had cheated, Helen was announced the winner. She had outwitted him.

"Now tell me," she continued. "How did you get the watch? Who gave it to you? Where is my husband?"

Thomas sighed. "I don't know about your husband, but I got it from an older man," he revealed. "He was here a few nights ago. He lost the watch in a bet. He lives nearby," Thomas grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled an address. "Here you go. He lives here."

***

The weather turned rough as Helen left the bar. Thunder rumbled in the sky, and rain came down in thick curtains. New York weather is highly unpredictable, she thought. She stood on the sidewalk for a while, letting the rain drench her before she spotted two orbs of light piercing the rain and approaching her.

Helen got into the taxi as it pulled over and told the driver the address. A couple more minutes, and she would have the next lead about Jonathan, or this man would probably turn out to be her missing husband.

Helen's heart pounded in excitement. It only now struck her that she could've asked Thomas if he recognized Jonathan. She had his old picture on her phone. But she had completely forgotten about it because she had been in a hurry to visit the address. It's fine, she consoled herself. I will figure this out myself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the taxi pulled over in front of a modest home. She paid the driver and got out.

Helen noticed the house had a small garden in the front yard. The house looked like a happy family home. Shivering from the cold, she hurried up the front porch steps and rang the doorbell.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" she called out, her teeth clattering.

It took a few moments before the door opened, and a woman, who must've been about a decade or so younger than Helen, stepped in the doorway.

"Yes?" she asked. "How can I help you?"

Helen raised the watch. "I'm here for—" But before she could explain anything, she began sneezing.

"Wait, how do you have that watch? Oh, never mind, come on in. You're all drenched!" Seeing Helen's condition, the woman welcomed her inside into the hallway.

"I'm sorry, but what did you say your name was?" she asked. "Let me get you some tea. And why do you have this watch? It's my—"

"I'm H-h-Helen," Helen introduced herself, shivering from the cold. "I'm so sorry for intruding, but this watch belongs to my husband. I was told the man who owns it lives here."

Helen noticed how the woman's expression changed as she said that. It was as if she had seen a ghost.

"You need to leave now! Just out!" the woman snapped and opened the door. "Leave before I have to throw you out!"

"I'm sorry? What-what's going on?" Helen was perplexed. "Please, don't send me out like this. I have to see him. I just want to talk to him."

"There is nothing to talk about! He lives here with…me and our kids! I AM HIS WIFE!" the woman, Carla, said sternly, sending shivers down Helen's neck.

"And you are not welcome into our lives, Helen!" Carla continued. "Jonathan and I have been married for 20 years now. We celebrate our anniversary tomorrow, and I won't let anyone from the streets walk into our home and destroy our family…"

Helen listened in shock and horror as Carla explained that she and Jonathan had two lovely children. He was a doting husband and father. Carla didn't want Jonathan to revisit his past and destroy their family for something that had happened over 20 years ago. "He's moved on, and you should too!" she hissed.

Helen froze in place, and her mind went blank for a moment. "Jonathan!" she screamed. "It's me, Helen! 'm here to meet you! Come out!"

"Helen, stop! What the hell are you doing?" Carla couldn't control her rage. She grabbed Helen's arm and shoved her out the front door.

"The next time I see you around here, I'll call the cops! He has a new identity and a new life! Don't you dare return here, Helen!" Carla sneered and slammed the door shut in her face.

Helen couldn't believe it. Was what she'd heard just now true? Jonathan had a new home and a new family?

Helen sat on the ground in a deserted alley behind the restaurant the following day, tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn't been able to sleep the night before, and now she was not able to stop crying.

She just couldn't believe that the love of her life, her husband, was alive and well but hadn't bothered to reach out to her all this while. Instead, he had left her and created a new world for himself. Where had she gone wrong? What had made Jonathan think that she didn't deserve him?

All these years, she had been eagerly waiting for the day she would find him and they would start fresh. She had been loyal to him, never re-married, or even considered being with someone other than him.

"How could you do this to me—to us, Jonathan?" Helen lamented as she looked at his watch, recalling the day she had given it to him. It had been a sad day for both of them...

The distant whistle of an approaching train filled the air as they stood on the platform. They were so young, so much in love, and newly married.

She was 32, and he was 35. Standing there, they held each other close, not willing to let go, even though they could hear the train getting closer and closer.

When Helen finally pulled away from him, she retrieved a gift box from her purse and gave it to him. "Open it," she said, her voice quivering.

Jonathan wiped his tears and opened the box to find a watch. She tied it around his wrist and kissed his hand. "This watch will remind you of me," she said, pointing to a button on its side.

"If you press this button three times with an interval, a small compartment reveals itself under the dial," she said and showed it to him. "And here you have my photo, so you'll have a piece of me. Promise me, you'll return home safely," she added, looking into his eyes. "I will hate you forever if you break my promise, Johnny."

Jonathan couldn't utter a word. Holding back his tears, he hugged her one last time before the train arrived at the platform, kissed her forehead, and then, he was gone.

The train's whistle had echoed, signaling its departure. Helen had stood on the platform in tears, never expecting it to be the last day when she would see her Jonathan alive.

Helen recalled the compartment now and pressed the button thrice as she had shown Jonathan. The watch opened to reveal a folded sheet of paper inside the compartment. Sniffling, Helen lifted the piece of paper and unfolded it. It was a letter.

The paper had turned a dirty yellow, and its words seemed to have been written long ago. But Helen knew who the letter's author was. She would never fail to recognize Jonathan's handwriting. Helen began reading.

"My dearest Helen," it began.

"My heart aches when I think about our separation. As I write to you, I can still hear the thunderous echoes of artillery and the restless chaos of war. I can't express how much I yearn to be with you. But as I fight in this war and serve my nation, I want to remember you as my strength.

I know the times are difficult, and our fate has been unkind to us, but I assure you that as soon as all this ends, I will be home. We will accomplish the dreams we have seen together. I have always loved you with all my heart and will continue to do so. While I have a nagging fear that it may be my end, I'm asking God for more strength. I love you.

— Forever Yours,

Jonathan."

Helen buried her face in her arms as she sobbed. How could this Jonathan suddenly fall out of love and abandon her? No, there had to be something wrong!

Helen's heart warned her that something terrible, really terrible, had happened. That was why Jonathan had never reached out to her. They had been madly in love when he left for the war.

The words in the letter gave her a newfound strength. Helen decided she would find out what had gone wrong, and she would do it soon. As she rose and wiped her tears, Helen had an idea.

The following day, Helen arrived at Carla and Jonathan's house in a chef's disguise. The three-tier cake she was carrying in her arms successfully shielded her face. She had to use the restaurant's truck to bring the cake here. Thankfully, the driver knew her, so he had agreed to her request.

The front lawn was beautifully decorated with balloons and streamers. Several tables, each adorned with elegant centerpieces and bouquets and set with polished silverware and wine glasses, were neatly arranged on the lawn.

The balloons near the yard's entrance swayed with the wind, and a banner with the words "Happy 20 Years Of Togetherness" was placed across the lawn.

Hiding her face behind the cake, Helen entered the compound. The gate had been open, welcoming guests, so she easily slipped inside with the crowd. However, as she climbed the steps to the front porch, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

Helen's heart raced as she peered from behind the cake. A young boy, about 14, stood before her.

"Who are you? Where are you taking the cake?" he asked sharply.

"I, uh," Helen fumbled for words as she tried to come up with a quick lie. "I'm the chef, actually. I was asked to get the cake and keep it in the kitchen."

"And what's your name?"

"I'm Samantha," she lied.

"Alright, Samantha, follow me. I'm Michael, by the way." Michael led her down the hallway and into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room.

Helen's eyes watered as she glanced at the pictures in the living room on their way. She recognized Jonathan in them. Although he had grown older, he still looked handsome. She would never fail to recognize her dear husband.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked, distracting her.

She swallowed her tears quickly. "Yes, yes, I am. I should probably get started with the cooking. Thanks for the help, Michael."

As Michael left, Helen approached a picture frame in the living room and felt a pang of jealousy. She had lived her life as a single woman all this while despite being married. She had never had anyone to love her, and the only man she had loved was missing…until now. But when she found him, he was too preoccupied with his own life for some reason. That reason — she would find out.

Helen wiped her tears and composed herself. She set out to the lawn where all the guests had gathered, her eyes scanning the crowd for Jonathan. She spotted Carla talking to a few guests while waiters served them wine. And then, Helen saw him. There he was, her Jonathan.

Helen didn't know what she was thinking. The moment she saw him, she just couldn't hold herself back. She dashed to him with her arms wide open.

"Jonathan!" she cried. "Jonathan, I'm here!"

The guests paused, and everyone turned to look at her as she raced to him. She hugged him, but it wasn't long before Jonathan pushed her away.

"Get off of me, lady! What do you think you are doing?" he snapped.

"It's me, Jonathan! I'm your wife! You loved me, and I'm here!" Helen declared. A collective gasp rang out in the gathering. People exchanged glances, unable to comprehend what was going on. Carla's face contorted with fury.

"Don't listen to her, Jonathan!" Carla stepped in and stood beside him. "She's here to ruin our special day! Everyone, I'm sorry for this, but the party will go on! Someone, please escort her out. She's a maniac!"

The husbands of Carla's close friends stepped forward and began dragging Helen out of the venue.

"Let go of me, you boys!" Helen groaned, trying to break free from their grasp. "That's my husband right there!"

But the two men didn't stop.

"Jonathan, please!" she pleaded as they neared the exit. "I'm not lying! I'm your wife! I'm your HELEN!"

Jonathan stood frozen in place. After witnessing everything, his face had gone pale, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. But when he heard Helen's name, something inside him shifted. The wine glass slid from his grasp and landed on the soft grass.

"Leave her alone!" he cried, causing Carla's eyes to widen in horror. "I said leave her alone!" he yelled as he approached Helen and shoved the guys away. "I want to talk to her alone. Helen, let's go."

"Jonathan, wait—"

"I said I would talk to her alone and escort her out!" Jonathan said firmly. "Sorry about the trouble, ladies and gentlemen. Please carry on."

Helen nodded in tears and followed him outside his and Carla's home. He took her to a cafe right across the street. They sat across from each other, and Helen's gaze wouldn't shift from him. She had desperately waited for this moment when she would be back with her husband.

"What are you doing here, Helen?" he asked sternly.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? I'm your wife! I'm here so we can be home."

"But I don't know you!" Jonathan said, and her face fell. "I don't have any memories of my past. The last thing I remember is waking up in a hospital. A doctor there told me I was a soldier. I don't even remember if I was one."

Helen's smile faded, and her heart sank as Jonathan continued.

"Apparently, he had identified me as a soldier from my uniform. However, they could not contact my team, so they decided to wait until I had recovered. I had suffered a severe brain injury on the battlefield, and I was in the hospital for months. But when I was discharged, I didn't want to return to my old life. Not like I could if I wanted to. I was a stranger to myself, clueless about my identity.

"I worked at the hospital under the kind doctor who did my surgery and eventually paid my bills. Once I left, I got a job at a local grocery, where I met Carla one day. Life changed, Helen. We fell in love. Carla was a marketing professional; she made a good income, and she helped me get back on my feet. It was my decision not to go to my old life. I just wanted to start fresh, so I just didn't care enough about my past."

"And you never remembered me? Not even once?" she asked desperately, her heart shattering inside.

"I think I did," he confessed. "I had these horrible nightmares. I would wake up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night. And it was the name Helen that I screamed every time I was startled awake. Carla didn't like it. Said it upset her that maybe I had an important woman in the past. I could've tried to find you and myself. But by that time, I had kids, Helen. I was a father and a husband, and I just couldn't go back. I did remember my name, which was a miracle."

"I don't mind any of it, Jonathan," Helen said desperately. "Look, I'm going to forgive you for everything. I'm not going to be mad at you that you just left me and never returned. At least we can be together now." In tears, she reached across the table to hold his hand. "Let's go home, Johnny boy. It's not too late to start fresh."

But Jonathan removed his hand.

"It IS too late, Helen. You have to accept it whether you like it or not," he said. "Now, please excuse me; I need to go. My wife and everyone else...they're waiting for me. And yes, I'm sorry, Helen," he added as he rose. "I'm no longer the man you loved. The Jonathan you loved is somewhere in the past on the battlefield. I have grown, changed, and moved on. I hope you'll be able to move on, too."

"Jonathan, wait! I need to—" Jonathan didn't wait to hear what she wanted to say.

He disappeared from the cafe. And that moment made Helen realize several things — the man she had been chasing until now no longer cared about her. He had started a new life without bothering about her. He could've tried to find her, but he had never done so.

Helen, on the other hand, had been so caught up in her past that she had forgotten to live her life. And Jonathan was right; she had to accept the truth whether she liked it or not.

Helen would need to learn to live all over again. Forgetting Jonathan would be challenging, but she would, she promised herself.

That afternoon, Helen dropped by her home before she headed to the restaurant. She felt a strange heaviness in her chest, but it was time to make things right.

"Hello, Martin." She approached him.

"Oh, Helen! You here so early?"

"I just wanted to talk about the cake," she said and hung her head.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said.

"No, no, not at all."

"I'll pay you for the cake, but I need some time," she admitted. "I know it was expensive, and I don't have the money with me now. I'll have to wait until this month's paycheck. I hope that's not an—"

"Hey, hey, Helen, what's wrong? I know it's not just the cake. Look at me."

As Helen raised her head, Martin noticed she was crying. She was so embarrassed to accept what had happened, but she really needed to talk to someone about it. And Martin would listen to her; she knew that.

So she told him everything that had happened — how the cake had given her a chance to see her husband but also made her realize that they would never be together again.

"I sound pathetic, don't I? I'm a 52-year-old woman…crying for a man who doesn't care about me at all."

"You're not pathetic!" Martin said. "Helen, you loved him. Your feelings are justified. Listen, you don't need to pay me for the cake. Instead…how about the drink we haven't had yet? Just to drown your sorrows! Nothing more! I promise!"

She looked at him, her eyes red.

"OK, that was me clearly overreaching. My bad. Sorry," he said and looked away.

"Alright, I'll come with you," she replied after a pause, and he looked up in shock.

"Are you serious?" he asked excitedly. "So can I pick you up at like 7 this Saturday? And I can get your favorite flowers, and I know this is not a date, but it's kind of like a date, but…you don't want to call it one, so—"

The way Martin panicked was indeed adorable. Forgetting her worries, Helen laughed. "It is a date!" she chucked. "It's a yes! For a date!"

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