Last year, my mom passed away, and one of the few things that kept me connected to her was a beautiful bracelet she had worn almost every day. I placed it carefully on a small table surrounded by framed photos of her, like a little tribute to her life and love. Seeing it there every morning brought me comfort, like a quiet reminder that she was still with me in spirit.

One morning, I noticed the bracelet was gone. My heart sank. I searched everywhere — under the table, in drawers, even inside the couch cushions — but it was nowhere to be found. Confused and upset, I asked my husband if he’d seen it. Without hesitation, he said, “I sold it,” and walked away. My chest tightened. I couldn’t believe he’d say something like that about something so precious. I felt hurt and betrayed.

An hour later, I walked past the table again… and there it was. The bracelet was back, shining in its usual spot. My confusion deepened. When I confronted my husband, he looked me straight in the eye, his expression soft. “I didn’t really sell it,” he said gently. “I just took it to be cleaned and fixed. Some of the links were loose, and I wanted to surprise you. But when you asked, I panicked and said the wrong thing.”