For 63 years, he gave me flowers… But what I discovered after his death left me speechless

I do.

The house seemed huge without him. His cup was still hanging on his hook. Her slippers were waiting by the bed.

When Valentine’s Day came, I got up with a weight on my chest. I expected silence.

There was a knock on the door.

On the doormat, a bouquet of roses wrapped in kraft paper, tied as in 1962. Next to it, an envelope. Inside: a letter from Jean… and a key.

He wrote that he had hidden something from me all our lives. That I had to go to the address indicated.

My heart sank. Another life? An unmentionable secret?

Despite the fear, I took a taxi.

The Green Door

The address led to a brick building, with a green door. I hesitated for a long time before entering.

Inside, the smell of waxed wood and old paper enveloped me.

It was a music studio.

In the center, a magnificent upright piano. The walls were covered with shelves filled with sheet music. On the podium, Claude Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” and Ludwig van Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” — my favourite pieces.

On a table, recordings labelled: “For Camille – December 2018”, “For Camille – March 2020″… Dozens.

Next to it, medical records. He had known that his heart had been fragile for years.

He had also left instructions for the flowers to be delivered to me after he left. He had planned everything.