I thought about giving up the last important thing I had left just to survive another month. I had no idea that entering that pawn shop would reveal a past I didn't even know existed.
After my divorce, I didn't have much left.
A broken cell phone that barely charged. Two garbage bags full of clothes I no longer liked. And something I never thought I'd get rid of: my grandmother's old necklace.
And that.
I didn't leave there with much.
My ex-husband didn't just abandon me. He made sure I had nothing to fall back on if I needed it.
The miscarriage had already left me exhausted when, a week later, he also passed away. He left with a younger lover.
For weeks, I acted more on instinct than anything else.
I worked extra shifts at the restaurant. I counted every tip like it was oxygen.
But pure stubbornness has its limits.
He left with a younger lover.
One night, I arrived home and found a red notice from my landlord taped to the door of my new apartment.
Warning:
FINAL WARNING.
I stood there, staring at him as if he could disappear at any moment.
That didn't happen.
Honestly, I didn't have the money to pay the rent.
I knew what I had to do even before I admitted it to myself. It was a desperate move.
As soon as I entered the apartment, I grabbed the old shoebox that was at the back of the closet.
Inside, wrapped in an old handkerchief, was the antique necklace.
I had no money.
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