Several envelopes tied together with a rubber band.
Then she noticed a small velvet pouch tucked beneath a stack of socks.
It wasn’t something she’d ever seen before.
Curious, she picked it up.
Inside was a small object wrapped carefully in tissue paper.
She unfolded it slowly.
The moment she saw it, her smile disappeared.
She became completely silent.
When I arrived later that afternoon, I found her sitting alone at the kitchen table.
The mysterious object rested in front of her.
She looked pale.
“I found this in your father’s drawer.”
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
“What is it?”
She pushed it toward me.
“I don’t know.”
“But I’m afraid I do.”
My heart immediately began racing.
My parents had been married for thirty-five years.
Like any couple, they’d experienced difficult moments.
Financial struggles.
Health scares.
Arguments over ordinary things.
But one issue had always frightened my mother more than anything else.
Infidelity.
Years earlier, one of her closest friends had discovered her husband’s affair after finding hidden gifts and personal belongings tucked away in his office.
The memory never left her.
Now, staring at the unfamiliar object on the table, her imagination had already begun filling in the blanks.
“Do you think…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
I didn’t answer.
