Elderly Cook Feeds Homeless Man after Work 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. But he never returned from war 20 years ago. Could Helen find him this time?

Helen slipped the last plate onto the dish rack and could hear the murmuring of other restaurant staff and servers rushing at the busiest time of day for the New York restaurant where she worked.

Eventually, her shift was over. Helen removed her apron and leaned against the counter, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Another day conquered in the kitchen? Wanna grab a drink?" a familiar voice snapped her to the present…Martin, the head cook, had been trying to date her for a while.

"Thanks, but some other time, Martin," she politely declined.

"Come on, Helen," he insisted. "Just this one time, please? For a change?"

Helen sighed. She was 52, and he was 61. He was a lovely man and a good colleague. 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. She stepped out into the chilly night, holding a trash bag. Outside, her gaze fell on the homeless man rummaging through the nearby bins.

Helen had seen him at the same spot every night, and like every other night, she returned to the kitchen and packed some leftover chicken soup and a baguette for him.

"Excuse me, sir!" she called out. "Here."

The man hesitated. "Why do you do this every day?" he asked.

"Because I can?" Helen said. "No one should go hungry."

The man finally extended his hands. "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.

How did he have the watch Jonathan had been wearing 20 years ago when he went to the war? It was custom-made, and she gave it to Jonathan the day he left for Iraq.

"The watch you're wearing!" she exclaimed. "Whe-where did you find it? It's my husband's! I've been looking for him for years."

"I, uh, I stole the watch yesterday, ma'am," he admitted, embarrassed. "I met this guy at the bar across the street."

Helen quickly pulled out her phone. "Did he look like this?" she asked. "He must be some 20 years older than in the photo."

The homeless man shook his head. "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."

Helen burst into tears as the man walked away and thought about her husband. They were newly married when he had to leave for Iraq. He had promised her he would return, but years had gone by.

His letters had stopped, and eventually, the army told her he had gone missing. But now, Helen had hope again. Her heart raced as she went into the bar.

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 jumped to his feet.

"You stole that watch from my pocket!" he snapped.

"No, I didn't," Helen replied. "This watch belongs to my husband, and I want to know how you got it. 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. I will return the watch to you once I find my husband."

The man challenged her to a game of dice and would only tell her the information if she won. If she lost, Helen would have to give him her chain. Helen's hands instinctively went to the necklace that dangled from her neck. She hesitated, but this was her only opportunity to find her husband.

Thomas produced a set of two dice — one for him, the other for Helen. The game was simple: whoever reached 100 points first would win. They took turns rolling. But somehow, he consistently scored higher, and her keen eyes noticed something odd in how his dice landed on the table.

Helen waited for him to roll again, and there it was! Her suspicions were confirmed — his dice were loaded! "This game is over!" she cried. "I don't want to play further! Did you think you could fool me?"

She grabbed his dice and exposed his treachery. Faint murmurs echoed around them. Some people were angry at Thomas. Eventually, the room burst into applause for Helen.

"Now tell me about the watch," she demanded.

Thomas sighed. "I don't know about your husband, but I got it from an older man. 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."

***

After an eternity, the taxi pulled over in front of a modest home. Helen paid the driver and got out. The house had a small garden in the front yard. It looked like a happy family home.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" she called out after ringing the doorbell.

A woman stepped outside. "How can I help you?" she asked.

Helen raised the watch. "I'm Helen. I apologize for intruding, but this watch belongs to my husband. I was told the man who owns it lives here."

The woman's expression changed as Helen said that.

"You need to leave now!" the woman snapped and opened the door.

"What's going on?" Helen was perplexed. "Please, 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, revealed. "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. He's moved on, and you should too!"

"Jonathan!" Helen screamed, not knowing what else to do. "It's me, Helen! Come out!"

"Go away!" Carla commanded and slammed the front door.

***

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 recalled their farewell and his letter, telling her how much he loved her.

Helen's heart warned her that something terrible had happened, and she decided to find out what had gone wrong.

The following day, Helen arrived at Carla and Jonathan's house disguised as part of the catering service. The three-tier cake she was carrying in her arms shielded her face. But she saw the home and garden decorated beautifully for the anniversary Carla had mentioned.

The gate welcomed guests, so Helen quickly slipped inside with the crowd. She moved slowly into the house. Her eyes watered while glancing at the pictures on their walls. She recognized Jonathan in them, but she couldn't break down then. She placed the cake somewhere safe and looked around.

Looking around, Helen spotted Carla talking to a few guests in the backyard while waitpeople served them wine. And then, Helen saw him. Her Jonathan. She acted without thinking. "Jonathan!" she cried. "Jonathan, I'm here!"

Helen 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! Helen! I'm here!" she declared. A collective gasp rang out in the gathering. Carla's face contorted with fury.

"Don't listen to her, Jonathan!" Carla stepped in and stood beside him. "Someone, please escort her out. She's a maniac!" The husbands of Carla's close friends began dragging Helen out.

"Let go of me!" Helen groaned. "He's my husband!"

Jonathan stood frozen in place. His face had gone pale, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. But after a shocked moment, he reacted. "Leave her alone!" he cried. "I want to talk to her. Helen, let's go."

"Jonathan, wait—" Carla started.

"I said I would talk to her alone and escort her out!" Jonathan said firmly. He took Helen to a nearby café. She was crying happy tears as they sat down.

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

"What do you mean what am I doing here? I'm your wife!"

"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 as Jonathan continued. He had suffered a terrible brain injury and stayed in a coma in the hospital for a while. He didn't want to find his memories when he got out and decided to start a new life. He worked odd jobs for a time until he met Carla.

"We fell in love. Carla was a marketing professional; she made good money and helped me get back on my feet," Jonathan explained. "It was my decision not to go back to my old life. I just wanted to start fresh."

"And you never remembered me? Not even once?" Helen asked, heartbroken.

"I think I did," he confessed. Jonathan talked about having nightmares, but by then, he was married and had children with Carla.

Helen said she didn't care and that they could start over. "We can be together now," she said, reaching across the table to hold his hand. But Jonathan didn't let her touch him.

"It's too late, Helen," he said. "I'm sorry. But my family and friends are waiting for me. I'm not the man you knew and loved. I hope you can find what I did."

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

He disappeared from the cafe and went back to his life. Helen had been so caught up in her past that she had forgotten to live alone. That had to change.

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. She went straight to Martin.

"Hello," she said.

"Oh, Helen! You here so early?"

"I was wondering if your offer for dinner was still on the table?" Helen asked.

"Are you serious?" he asked excitedly. "So can I pick you up at like 7 p.m. 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—"

Helen chuckled. "Martin, it's definitely a date!"

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