My wife had just passed away, and my son kept clinging to her shirt. Curious, I touched it—only to be utterly shocked when I discovered something hidden inside…

He still remembered vividly the very first day he met her, on a drizzly afternoon at a small roadside café. She was sitting by the window, her eyes quietly gazing out at the rain, stirring his curiosity. He normally wasn’t the type to strike up conversations with strangers, but that day he gathered the courage to smile at her. She gave a gentle nod, her soft smile seeming to drive away the damp chill of the afternoon. At that very moment, a seed of indescribable affection took root in his heart.

As they talked, he was surprised to find that she shared his love for old songs. She softly said, “I like the old music—it feels warmer than the noisy tunes nowadays.” He chuckled, “Me too. Maybe we’re just old souls ahead of our time?” They both burst out laughing, the ease between them dissolving any distance. A strange harmony pulled them closer together.

Days went by, and they began meeting more often—sometimes at their familiar café, sometimes strolling by the lake in the evening. He had a fiery temper, often quarreling over trivial things, but she would always give way. She would smile gently and say, “Calm down, I’m not angry at you.” Her kindness and patience only made him treasure her even more. He felt lucky to have such a woman by his side.

After more than a year of being together, they decided to marry, blessed by both families. On their wedding day, she wore a pure white dress, her eyes sparkling as she whispered to him, “I believe we will be happy.” He held her hand tightly, his heart brimming with joy he had never known before. Friends and relatives all said they were a perfect match. He felt as though he was touching a dream he had once only dared to imagine.

When she became a daughter-in-law, she behaved so gracefully and kindly that everyone in his family adored her. His mother often said, “You are truly blessed to have married such a daughter-in-law.” Hearing that, he felt both proud and grateful. She was not only a good wife but also the bond that tied the family together. Their married life wasn’t luxurious, but it was always filled with love.

She worked with a decent salary, and because she was thrifty, she managed their household well. He often felt guilty for not being able to provide her with more, but she would simply smile, squeeze his hand, and say: “As long as you love me and love our child, that’s enough.” Those words lifted the burden in his heart. He realized that happiness wasn’t about money—it was about having a sincere companion.

Their joy doubled when they had their first child, a healthy baby boy. He was overwhelmed with tears of happiness the first time he held his son. She smiled, exhausted but radiant: “Look, he looks exactly like you.” At those words, his heart tightened with boundless love for her. It seemed as if their little family’s happiness was finally complete.

But after giving birth, her health visibly declined. Sleepless nights caring for the baby made her thin and weak. He often told her, “Why don’t you quit work? I can take care of us.” But she only shook her head: “I’m used to it, besides, with more income, we’ll have fewer worries.” Seeing her resilience only made him love her more.

Then tragedy struck. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Hearing the news was like being struck by lightning—he stood frozen, unable to believe it. Strangely, she was calmer than he was, softly saying: “I’m not afraid of dying. I just worry because our child is still too little.” He hugged her tightly, choking back tears: “I won’t let you go. We will fight this together.” He had never felt such fear before.

During treatment, her body grew weaker each day. Every time he saw her lying on the hospital bed, her pale face drained of strength, he could only hold her hand tightly to hide his tears. She forced a faint smile: “Don’t cry. I want to see you strong.” He nodded, but inside he was breaking apart. Each passing moment left him feeling more helpless and hopeless.

The illness didn’t give them much time. In just a few months, everything was taken away. In her final moments, she held his hand, her breath faint: “Raise our son well… and if someone kind comes along for you and the child, don’t be afraid to move on.” He cried out: “I only need you, don’t leave me.” But her eyes slowly closed, and silence fell painfully heavy. His gentle, loving wife was gone forever.

The funeral was filled with sobs of grief from family and friends. He stood like a man without a soul, holding his little boy who was too young to understand. The child looked around, searching, asking again and again: “Daddy, where’s Mommy?” His heart felt like it was being torn apart, not knowing how to answer. Emptiness swallowed the home that was once full of laughter.

After the funeral, he tried to endure for the sake of his son. Every night, the boy clutched his mother’s old shirt, burying his face in it as if searching for her warmth. Watching that, his heart ached, but he couldn’t stop him. One day, while sorting through belongings, he touched that very shirt. Suddenly, he felt something hidden inside.

Opening it, he froze. Inside was a bank card and a handwritten letter. His hands trembled as tears blurred his vision. In his wife’s familiar handwriting, the letter read: “My love, if you are reading this, it means I am no longer here. I’m sorry for keeping this from you, but I wanted to leave something behind for you and our child.” He bit his lips, each line of her words tearing at his heart.

In the letter, she explained that she had been secretly saving for years, little by little, until she reached one billion dong. She wrote: “I know I don’t have much time left. I only hope this money will ease your burdens. Don’t be too sad—please live strongly for our child. You are his only support now.” The final lines were smudged with tear stains, proof that she had cried while writing.

He clutched the letter to his chest, tears streaming down. “You foolish woman, why didn’t you tell me sooner… why did you bear it all alone?” he whispered. He imagined her quietly depositing small amounts into the account, all so that even in death, she could still protect her husband and child. He felt both blessed and tormented beyond measure.

That night, he sat hugging the shirt as if embracing her again. The little boy slept soundly, his tiny hand gripping the fabric of his mother’s shirt. He whispered: “Don’t worry, I will raise him well for you.” His heart throbbed with pain, but inside, a flicker of strength remained. He knew he had to go on—because the love she left behind had never faded.

From that day forward, whenever he felt weary, he would take out the letter to read. It became his strength, keeping him from falling apart. Her silent sacrifices turned into a guiding light through his darkest nights. He realized that love doesn’t end when someone passes away. It continues—through memories, through the things they leave behind.

He resolved to honor her last wish, becoming both father and mother to their child. He learned to be patient, to listen more. Each innocent smile from his son became his driving force. In those bright eyes, he could always see her reflection. And deep down, he knew—she was still watching over them, with an eternal love that would never die.