A Lie Wrapped in a Locket

MY SISTER’S GOLD NECKLACE FELL OUT OF MY HUSBAND’S CAR GLOVE COMPARTMENT

I was just looking for loose change to get gas when I saw it tangled in old receipts.

It was Mom’s old locket, the one she gave Sarah right before she passed last year. I picked it up, the cool metal pressing into my thumb, and my stomach instantly twisted into knots I couldn’t loosen. He had sworn on everything he hadn’t seen her since the family argument at Christmas.

I shoved it back into the cramped glove compartment, fumbling with the latch until it finally clicked shut with a sharp plastic snap. The sound felt loud in the quiet car. How could he look me in the eye every morning? How could he lie to me about *this* specific person after everything we’ve been through?

He walked in through the back door just as I got back inside the house, pulling off his work jacket. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, his voice unnaturally light. I couldn’t speak. I just held up my shaking hand, showing him the small, distinct indentation the locket’s chain had left pressed into my skin.

“You promised me,” I finally managed to whisper, my throat aching with held-back tears. He went instantly pale, his eyes fixed on my hand, then darting nervously towards the car keys still sitting on the kitchen counter. The familiar scent of stale cigarette smoke mixed with his usual cheap cologne suddenly made the air feel thick and suffocating around me. “You said it was over.”

Then I remembered Sarah doesn’t even smoke those cheap cigarettes he buys.

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