I believed I was about to give up the last thing that truly mattered to me just to make it through another month.
I never imagined that stepping into that pawn shop would unravel a past I didn’t even know belonged to me.
After the divorce, I walked away with almost nothing—just a dying phone, a couple of trash bags filled with clothes I no longer cared about, and one thing I swore I’d never lose: my grandmother’s necklace.
That was all I had left.
My ex didn’t just leave—he made sure I had nothing to stand on. I was already broken from the miscarriage when, a week later, he walked away for a younger woman.
For weeks, I survived on instinct. Extra shifts at the diner, counting every tip like it was air. But determination can only carry you so far.
