My Husband Bought Me Flowers To Celebrate My Promotion. A Homeless Woman Just Warned Me That Smelling Them Will Kill Me. Should I Trust My Husband Of Five Years Or A Stranger?

“You came,” Cassie said, smiling, sitting on the sofa across from her.

“I was looking for you,” Eleanor leaned forward. “I wanted to say thank you. You saved my life.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you would have died,” Cassie finished calmly. “I know. But you’re alive and that’s the main thing.”

“They arrested him.” Eleanor rushed to tell her. “Michael, he’s in custody. There will be a trial. He’s facing up to 15 years. Everything was confirmed: the insurance, the flowers, everything.”

“Good.” Cassie nodded. “Justice was served. Thanks to you.”

Eleanor stood up, went into the hallway, and came back pushing the stroller overflowing with bags.

“I want to help you and the baby. This is for him.”

Cassie sat frozen staring at the stroller. Eleanor began to take out her purchases: toys, baby food, cereal, fruit puree, bananas, apples.

“The stroller is sturdy, comfortable, and all this is for the child. Please accept it.”

Cassie silently looked at all this abundance. Then her lips trembled. She hugged the baby tighter to her chest and tears streamed down her cheeks. Silent, soundless tears.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered through her tears. “No one has ever… so much kindness.”

“You saved my life.” Eleanor sat next to her, took her hand. “This is the very least I can do to thank you.”

Cassie wiped her tears. She nodded, unable to speak. She looked at the stroller, the toys, everything Eleanor had brought, and cried with happiness because someone had seen in her not a homeless beggar but a person worthy of gratitude and respect.

“Thank you,” Cassie finally breathed out.

“Thank you.”

Eleanor rummaged in her purse, took out an envelope. “And this too. A little money so you can…”

Cassie raised her hand, stopping her. “No. The stroller and the things I’ll take. It’s for the baby. But not the money.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t save you for money.” Cassie looked at the baby, carefully adjusting the blanket. “I did what I had to do. What I didn’t do last time. Now I can sleep peacefully.”

“Then at least tell me,” Eleanor asked, “how did you know? How did you understand that Michael planned it?”

Cassie was silent for a long time, then spoke softly. “I see things since I was a child. Not always, but sometimes very clearly. I see death when it’s near. I see danger. I saw it over you that day like a dark cloud. And I knew that if I stayed silent, you would die like that woman 3 years ago.”

“And you decided to warn me.”

“Yes. Even though I understood you might not believe me, that you might think I was crazy. But I had to try. I kept quiet once and it tortured me every day. I couldn’t keep quiet a second time.”

Eleanor wiped away the tears that had unexpectedly streamed down her cheeks. “You saved me and I will never forget it.”

Cassie smiled. For the first time, Eleanor saw her smile, a soft, sad smile. “Just live. Live well. Be happy. That’s the best.”

“Thanks. And you? What will happen to you?”

“They help here.” Cassie looked around the room. “They give food, a roof over your head. They help with documents. Doctors checked the baby, said he’s fine. I’ll find a job, get on my feet. We’ll manage.”

“If you need anything…” Eleanor took out a piece of paper, wrote down her number. “Call me anytime. I’ll help.”

Cassie took the card. She nodded. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a little longer. Two women whose lives had crossed at the most critical moment. One saved the other without asking for anything in return, simply because she could, simply because she had to.

Eleanor left the shelter with a light heart. For the first time in 3 weeks, she felt she could breathe freely, that the fear was receding, that life was going on.

The trial took place 2 months later. Eleanor attended every session. She looked at Michael sitting behind the glass in the courtroom and didn’t recognize the person she had lived with for 5 years.

He had lost weight, looked haggard, his hair was starting to go gray. He looked at her and in his eyes she read desperation, but not remorse. Only the desperation of a person whose plan had failed.

The lawyer tried to mitigate his guilt. He spoke of a difficult financial situation, of stress, that the defendant was not aware of the consequences. But the prosecutor was adamant. This was an attempted murder with premeditated intent: planning, preparation, calculation.

Everything pointed to a cold, cynical attempt to get rid of his wife for money.

The sentence: 12 years in a state penitentiary.

The divorce was finalized the same day. Eleanor walked out of the courthouse and took a deep breath. It was over. It was finally over.

She gradually returned to a normal life. She rented a small one-bedroom apartment near her work. She went to a therapist; the trauma was deep and dealing with it alone was impossible. Her job helped distract her. The new position required her full dedication and Eleanor was grateful for that. The less time she had to think, the better.