When Cassie returned from a getaway with her husband and son, she found a cryptic message from her mother telling her to watch a video. As she pressed play, her life changed. In the end, she was left wondering which of her parents deserved forgiveness.

In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He was everything I needed. He was always traveling for work, but made time for me. “You’re my little girl, Cassie,” he’d say, bopping my nose. “You’re the most special.”

Despite their busy schedules, my parents always made time for family dinners, which kept me grounded while my friends dealt with their parents’ messy divorces.

“I think divorce is trendy,” I told my mom once. She laughed. “Divorce is devastating,” she said. “Very few families keep things civil.”

I was fourteen, and the world felt dramatic. But I didn’t know how my words would impact our home.

A few weeks later, my father went on a business trip. Hours later, I learned he had died.

An old man | Source: Pexels

“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” my mom said. “I’m just saying what the paramedics told me.”

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

“For the funeral?” she replied. “Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread at the beach. Let’s do that instead.”

Though I didn’t understand, I trusted my mother. A private ceremony on the beach felt beautiful.

Months passed, and I struggled with depression. My father had been our world. His absence was overwhelming, but with time, I learned to live with it.

A week ago, I booked a cabin for a family vacation. My son wanted to camp, but I opted for a cabin with a bathroom. I asked my mother to house-sit.

When we returned home, my mother wasn’t there, but there was a note: *Watch this, Cassie. I’m sorry. — Mom.*

I sat down and pressed play. My father’s face appeared on screen.

“Cassie, I’m still here,” he said, his voice a long-lost melody. “I’m sorry for the pain, but I needed to be removed from your life. Your mother knows everything. Ask her for the truth.”

Tears streamed down my face as I realized he was alive.

I rushed to my mother’s house, where she finally explained everything.

“Cassie, it’s heavy,” she said, making tea. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there’s so much I need to tell you.”

She explained that my father had never been legally married to her. He’d been married to another woman in the town where he traveled for business. When she found out, he chose his other family over us.

“I told him it would be his death if he ever chose them,” she said. “But I didn’t want you to know the truth.”

My father’s faked death was easier for me to believe. What we threw into the sea was just dust.

Over the years, my father had confessed his illness to my mother and asked her to give me the video. She kept the secret, torn by guilt and love.

I traveled to see him, spending time with him as his health declined. When things worsened, I asked my husband to bring our son. My father passed away a few days later.

Now, I’m left wondering if I can forgive my father for living a double life and my mother for lying. What would you do?