‘I Just Wanted to See You One Last Time,’ My Terminally Ill Ex-wife Wrote — But Our Daughter Exposed the True Purpose of Her Return

I won’t lie, I never expected to hear from my ex-wife again.

Not after she walked away six years ago, leaving behind a two-year-old daughter and a husband who had begged her to stay. Not after she vanished into the world, sending nothing but a yearly postcard and a stuffed animal to remind us she was still alive.

“I can’t do this, Kian,” she said, glancing at Kylie, our baby girl, while she took her jacket off the coat hook. “But you can.”

I also didn’t expect her to return like this, with a message that made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

Hey! Remember me? Doctors say I’ll be gone soon. It’s terminal. I just wanted to see you one last time. And Kylie. Please, let me!

The text felt surreal.

I had moved on. I was happily remarried now, raising my daughter, Kylie, and my baby boy, Jake, with my incredible second wife, Lillian. Our life was full of bedtime stories, baby giggles, and a warmth that I thought I’d never have again after my divorce.

But how do you say no to a dying person?

Can you?

So, I agreed to meet her.

She chose a restaurant for us to meet at. When I arrived, she was already seated, stirring a cup of coffee with a hand that was a little too steady for someone with a supposed terminal illness.

I sat across from her, unsure of what to say.

“So… how long do you have, Marissa? When did you find out that you were this ill? Are you sure about the diagnosis?”

“It’s stage four. So, maybe months, maybe weeks. Who really knows, Kian? But it’s been hard, you know?”

I nodded, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy.

“I’m sorry. Truly,” I said.

Sure, I didn’t care for Marissa. But she had been my wife once, and I had loved her with everything I had. And she had given me Kylie… so, it was only natural that I was feeling some type of way toward her situation.

She reached for my hand, and I pulled back instinctively.

“That’s why I wanted to see you,” she continued, her voice soft. “And Kylie. I need to see her, hold her. Just once…”

I hesitated.

“Look, Marissa,” I said. “I’m going to be serious with you. You do know that Kylie barely remembers you, right? You left when she was two.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face.

“But still, she got my gifts, right? The teddy bears? Doesn’t she know me as the favorite person who sent her toys?”

I bit back a bitter laugh.

Favorite person? The teddy bears? The once-a-year, guilt-ridden offerings that Kylie never played with?

“She got them,” I said flatly.

“I just… I just want to see her, Kian,” she pressed. “I want to say goodbye. I want to hold my child. I may have left, but I made her too, Kian. I carried her. My body did the work. So I… get to see her, and I get to say goodbye.”

I exhaled. I couldn’t argue with her words. I didn’t want her around my daughter, but I didn’t see any other way out.

“All right, but you follow my rules. Okay?”

Marissa nodded eagerly.

I didn’t realize then that I should have never opened the door to Marissa.

The next day, the doorbell rang. Lillian and I exchanged a look, we weren’t expecting anyone. We were making ice cream sandwiches to eat with our kids.

“I’ll get it,” I said. “But don’t eat anything without me!”

Kylie giggled.

I opened the door, and a huge teddy bear blocked the view of whoever was holding it.

Then a too-cheerful voice called out.

“Surprise!”

I nearly slammed the door in her face.

“What the hell, Marissa?” I hissed.

“I wanted to see Kylie. You said I could,” she beamed, pushing past me into the house.

Before I could stop her, Kylie came skipping down the hall, pausing when she saw Marissa.

“Hi, Kylie! It’s me, your mom!” Marissa said, almost giddy.

Kylie just stared at her. Then she turned to me.

“Daddy, who is she?” she asked. “Who is this lady?”

Marissa’s face fell. My heart clenched, not out of sympathy for her, but because I hated that she did this to herself.

Lillian, cradling our son, stepped in smoothly.

“Kylie, sweetheart, why don’t you finish your coloring? We’ll talk in a bit, okay?”

“But what about our ice cream sandwiches?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“We’ll have them later, sweet girl,” Lillian said.

Kylie nodded then disappeared into her room.

“Kids, right?” Marissa said, forcing a smile.

I should have thrown her out then. Immediately. Instead, I let her stay for dinner.

Over the next week, Marissa met Kylie at the park a few times. We never told our daughter about the cancer, it felt unnecessary when she barely recognized this woman as her mother.

There was no need for me to explain it to my child.

But then Marissa dropped another bombshell.

“The doctors reassessed my condition,” Marissa said, clutching my arm dramatically. “It’s a miracle, Kian! There’s a chance that I can live!”

I blinked slowly.

What the hell?

“Wow, that’s… that’s great,” I managed to say.

“Well, it’s not as simple as that,” Marissa said, biting her lip. “I can recover… but it all depends on the medication. There’s a new trial that the doctor thinks I should be on. But it’s expensive.”

I should have known.

“How much?”

“$20,000.”

She said it casually. Like it was as easy as asking me to pass her the sugar at a table.

“That’s a lot of money, Marissa,” I said firmly.

“I know,” she sighed. “But Kian, please….”

Her eyes flickered toward Lillian, knowing exactly how to manipulate her.

Lillian turned to look at me, her eyes soft and melancholic.

“I feel bad for Marissa,” she said. “Maybe we can…”

I also felt bad for her.

So, we considered it.

And that was almost the biggest mistake of our lives.

That night, Kylie walked into our room, clutching the teddy bear Marissa had given her.

She looked serious. Far too serious for an eight-year-old.

“Daddy,” she said quietly. “She’s lying.”

“What do you mean, sweet pea?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

“This bear talks,” Kylie said. “With her voice.”

“What?” I asked, my stomach sinking.

Kylie was holding the latest bear that Marissa had given her the day after the last park outing. She had come over with a cheesecake and the bear, trying to figure out where we were with the transfer.

Kylie pressed the bear’s stomach. A distorted voice crackled to life.

“I’ll get the money soon! And you owe me a drink!”

The air left my lungs suddenly.

I grabbed the bear and found a tiny hidden recorder inside. When I rewound it, Marissa’s voice filled the room.

“Yeah, I told Kian that it was stage four. And he totally bought it. He was practically crying at the restaurant. Twenty grand just for some fake tears.”

Lillian sat up, horrified. Kylie looked at me, her little face filled with betrayal and understanding.

Marissa had been on the phone with someone, gloating about her scam, and had accidentally pressed record. Then, she handed Kylie her own confession.

“I told you, she’s not my mom,” Kylie said.

“You did, sweetheart. And you were right,” I said.

The next day, I sent Marissa a message.

I have the money. Come and get it.

She showed up thirty minutes later.

Kylie handed her an envelope, thick with notes. Marissa’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, thank you, my dearest girl! It’s so kind of you! This means so much…”

“Before you open it,” I cut in. “We have something for you to listen to.”

I pressed play.

Her own voice filled the room.

“Yeah, I told Kian that it was stage four. And he totally bought it. He was practically crying at the restaurant. Twenty grand just for some fake tears.”

Marissa froze. Her face turned ghostly white.

“That’s not me!” she stammered. “Someone must have doctored that…”

She ripped open the envelope and saw $20,000… of Monopoly money.

It was Kylie’s idea.

“If she is fake sick, then let’s give her fake money,” she had said, her little face full of determination.

Marissa’s face twisted into a rage.

“You can’t do this to me!”

“You did this to yourself, Marissa,” Lillian said, her voice cold as steel. “And why did you give our child a teddy bear with a recording? What was on it before?”

Marissa stared at us for a moment before she spoke.

“It was a recording of me telling her that I’m her true mother. I guess I accidentally recorded over it.”

“You’re pathetic,” I said. “Now, get out. Leave our lives forever.”

As she stormed off and slammed the door, I turned to Kylie.

“You saved us, and you saved our money,” I told her.

“She didn’t deserve it, Daddy. Didn’t you say that we have to earn and deserve money?”

And she was right.

I did say that. I had been saying that since she was old enough to understand how chores worked.

Marissa didn’t deserve to be in our family. She didn’t deserve to be in Kylie’s life.

Our true family was right here under this roof.

And nothing, not even an elaborate scam, could ever change that.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.