My husband and I were married for eight years. During that time, we built a family together with two beautiful children - a son and a daughter. He was the kind of man who dedicated himself wholeheartedly to his career. His work always came first, and as a result, he rarely had time to spend with me or the children. Despite this, I never blamed him. I understood his ambitions and silently accepted the role of caregiver at home, raising our kids so he could focus on building our future.

Many people around me often advised me to find my own job, to be financially independent, warning that men sometimes grow tired of wives who stay at home and may even seek affection elsewhere. At the time, I dismissed these warnings. I was content with my life, believing that our family was strong enough to withstand any challenge. I trusted him completely and felt that my place was by my children’s side, not in an office.

Looking back now, I realize how naive and vulnerable I was. For eight long years, I was entirely financially dependent on him, with no backup plan or personal income to fall back on.

Then, five months ago, tragedy struck suddenly and without warning. My husband died in an accident. The world as I knew it shattered in an instant. I was left grappling not only with the unbearable pain of losing my partner but also with the overwhelming responsibility of raising our children alone. The shock was so intense that I barely had time to process it.

After his death, the insurance company provided a payout that offered some financial relief. With this support, I returned to work, despite having a low salary and little experience. Life became a daily struggle to keep everything afloat - the bills, the children’s needs, and the growing sense of loneliness.

Then, unexpectedly, I started receiving a monthly payment of $3,000. This money was a lifeline. It helped cover the children’s education, medical expenses, and the countless costs of running a household. But I was curious - who was the mysterious benefactor behind this generous support?

Last month, I decided to find out. I requested the sender’s address, and to my surprise, it was registered to a luxurious apartment complex. Who could be sending us money from such a place?

Determined to uncover the truth, I called the number associated with the sender but received no response. Using another phone, I called again, pretending to be a delivery person with a package waiting downstairs. After a few tense moments, a woman appeared at the door.

When I spoke to her on the phone, she answered, but as soon as she saw me, her face turned pale with shock, and she tried to walk away. I gently insisted on talking, and after some hesitation, she agreed.

She broke down in tears, confessing that she had been involved with my husband. They had a relationship that she described as complicated and hidden from the world. He had helped her open a store and even bought her the apartment she was living in. Since his passing, she was consumed by guilt and sorrow. To make amends and help my family, she had been sending money every month. She saw this as a way to atone for her mistakes and to continue supporting us in his absence.

Yet, something didn’t add up. My husband had been gone for four months, but every month I received that $3,000 envelope, bearing his name and address clearly marked. I thought it might be a clerical error, but the delivery service confirmed the sender’s information was genuine. Even more puzzling, though I had the sender’s phone number, I could never reach anyone at that number.

Learning this truth shattered me. I hated my husband - for his betrayal, for the secrets, for the pain he left behind. But the reality of my situation forced me to face difficult questions. I need financial support to raise our children. His mistress promised to help us as much as she could. If I accept her help, does that mean I’m lowering my dignity? Or am I simply doing what I must for my family?

I feel torn between heartbreak and necessity. I don’t know who I can trust anymore, and I’m struggling to decide what’s best for me and my children.

What Should I Do?

Should I accept the help and try to move forward for the sake of my kids? Or should I reject it, holding onto pride but risking hardship? The answers feel complicated and pai.nful.