During their gift-giving ceremony, Brad and Rachel are surprised to receive a single bouquet of flowers from Brad’s mother. But when her cryptic message becomes the key to unlock their actual gift, the couple are left in tears.

Our wedding day was exactly what I always wanted my wedding to look like — a private ceremony with only our closest family and friends. Brad and I always thought that we wanted a big bash for our wedding.

“A party, Rachel,” he said one night, when we were in the early stages of planning. “An entire day to celebrate!”

But then, Brad’s father, Daniel, became ill, and he only got sicker. Which caused Brad and I to refocus our wedding — we needed something intimate because we didn’t know how much time Brad’s father had left.

“Whatever happens,” Daniel said, taking our hands during family dinner one night. “You will have your wedding. Promise me!”

We promised him and continued to plan, despite the fact that we knew he wouldn’t see our wedding.

Old man smiling | Source: Pexels
Six months before our wedding, Brad’s father passed away peacefully in his home.

On our wedding day, Brad and I exchanged our vows as his younger sisters serenaded us in perfect harmony. The gift-giving ceremony followed, with my parents giving us a honeymoon with a two-week holiday at a luxury resort, along with money to spend.

“Just go and have fun,” my mother said, handing us the envelope with the details. “Use this time to heal and reflect on your father’s memory, Brad.”

When it was time for Vera, my mother-in-law’s gift, she presented an unassuming bouquet of flowers.

She embraced us, her eyes large, threatening to spill her tears.

“I couldn’t bring it here,” she said, her voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of celebration. “The code is 1964.”

“1964?” Brad echoed, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Older woman smiling with her hands on her hips | Source: Pexels
“What does that mean?” I asked, holding onto my mother-in-law’s hand.

I knew that as much as she loved us, celebrating so soon after losing Brad’s father had taken a toll on her.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” she said.

She offered one more cryptic smile before slipping away into the crowd, leaving us with puzzled looks on our faces.

That night, as Brad and I lay in our hotel bed, we pondered Vera’s words.

Two weeks later, after we returned home from our honeymoon, Brad walked into the living room with a large package.

“Here,” he said. “Come open it with me.”

Inside the box was a mini-safe with our initials engraved on the back.

“It’s locked,” Brad said, running his hands through his hair.

“Try 1964,” I said, remembering Vera’s words from our wedding.

Brad knelt forward and entered the code, the safe’s gears clicking open.

Inside, was a handwritten letter and a sizable amount of money, stacked into neat bundles.

“Woah,” Brad said. “This is from Mom?”

I reached for the letter, eager to know more. Unfolding it carefully, I began to read aloud.

Delivery of a box | Source: Pexels
“Dear Brad and Rachel,” I read. “If you’re reading this letter, it means that I’m no longer with you physically…”

Daniel’s words echoed through my own voice as we read of his love for us. He wrote about how his illness took so much from him, including the chance to see his son get married. He also asked that Brad take care of his sisters, ensuring that when it was time for their weddings, that Brad would walk them down the aisle with the love and respect of a father figure.

“Incredible,” Brad murmured, his voice thick with emotion. I couldn’t stop my tears either.

“Mom?” Brad said into the phone. “We received the package. Come have dinner with us.”

Handwritten letter with a fountain pen | Source: Unsplash
That night for dinner, we made dumplings — Daniel’s favorite food, leaving a plate out at the table for him. Through his generous gift, Brad and I would be able to put a down payment on the house we wanted.

All through dinner, Vera’s eyes shone brightly as we spoke about Daniel’s gesture and his words.

“This is what I want,” she said. “I want to keep his memory alive.”

I smiled and reached across the table for Vera’s hand. She squeezed mine back.

“I won’t disappoint him,” Brad said, sipping his beer. “I’ll be the man he spoke about in his letter.”

Now, Brad and I have reached our first milestone together — our first wedding anniversary. And we have a baby boy on the way. Brad wants to name him Daniel, after his father.

When we told Vera the good news, we handed her a bouquet of flowers with a pair of blue baby shoes — the laces tied around the flowers.

Her reaction was exactly what I thought it would be.