Last year, Mom passed away. I keep her bracelet on a table with photos of her. One day, the bracelet vanished.
When I asked my husband, he bluntly replied, “I sold it.” An hour later, the bracelet mysteriously reappeared. When I confronted him, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “I didn’t put it back.” I froze. His tone wasn’t sarcastic, and his face looked unsettled, like even he didn’t understand what was going on.
My first instinct was to think he was lying to cover up something, but there was something in his eyes that didn’t look like guilt—it looked like confusion. The bracelet wasn’t worth much money. It was silver, a little scratched, with a small heart charm that had my birthdate engraved on it.
Mom wore it nearly every day of my childhood. When she passed, it was the one thing I kept from her jewelry box, the one object I couldn’t bear to lose. That’s why seeing it gone, even for that hour, hit me like a punch in the stomach.
…The story doesn’t end here, it continues on the next page 👇
