For a moment, my hand closed around it instinctively. My mind moved faster than I wanted it to. Bills. Repairs. Groceries. Braces. All the things I worried about late at night.
Then Lily pointed out an apple she thought looked magical, and Grace laughed at nothing in particular, and the decision made itself.
I slipped it into my pocket, planning to turn it in at customer service.
Before I could move, a voice broke through the aisle.
The Woman Who Lost Everything Once Already
“Please,” the voice said. “Please let it be here.”
An older woman hurried toward us, her hands shaking as she searched the floor. Papers spilled from her purse. Her face was pale with panic.
I stepped forward. “Ma’am? Are you looking for something?”
Her eyes locked on my hand as I pulled the ring from my pocket.
She gasped. Not loudly. Deeply. Like someone who had been holding her breath for far too long.
“My husband gave me that,” she whispered. “On our fiftieth anniversary. He passed three years ago.”
“I didn’t even feel it fall,” she said. “I only noticed in the parking lot.”
When she finally took it, she pressed it to her chest. Relief washed over her face, followed by tears she tried to hide.
I told her I understood loss. That I knew how it felt when something small carried everything you had left of someone.
She looked at my children, suddenly quiet, watching her with solemn curiosity.
“They’re yours?” she asked.
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