By mid-afternoon, Lydia showed up at my apartment. I knew it was coming. I’d been bracing for it all day, but that didn’t make it any easier.
When I opened the door, she looked like she hadn’t slept. Her eyes were red, and her face was blotchy from crying. She was still wearing the dress from the night before, like she’d gone straight home and cried herself to sleep.
Michael, she said softly, her voice shaking. Can we please talk? I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. What’s there to talk about, Lydia? I made myself pretty clear last night.
She flinched like I’d slapped her, but she didn’t back down. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, she said, but we can fix this. We can work through it.
I shook my head. You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t something we can just work through. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice cracking as she said, I was scared, okay? I didn’t know what to do.
Scared of what? I asked, my frustration boiling over. Scared of upsetting your parents? Scared of making a scene? She didn’t have an answer. She just stood there, crying, while I stared at her, waiting for something, anything, that would make me believe she actually understood what she’d done.
But nothing came. Her eyes widened, and she took a step closer. Please, Michael, she whispered, don’t do this.
We can make it work. I’ll talk to my parents. I’ll make them apologize.
Just don’t end it like this. I shook my head again. It’s not just about your parents, Lydia.
It’s about you. Last night showed me exactly who you are, and I can’t unsee it. I deserve better than this.
She stared at me for a moment, her face crumpling as the reality sank in. One Saturday afternoon, I was cleaning out my mom’s old keepsake box. It was something I’d held on to ever since she passed.
Inside were things like her favorite necklace, a pair of earrings she used to wear to church, and a small, delicate locket with a picture of my grandmother inside. That locket had been in my family for generations, passed down from mother to daughter, and my mom had given it to me before she passed. She said, one day, you’ll know the right person to give this to.
I’d kept it tucked safely in the box ever since. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry. It was a piece of her, of our family history.
But when I opened the box that day, the locket was gone. At first, I thought I was imagining things. I tore the box apart, carefully searching through every corner, but it wasn’t there.
I checked the drawers where I kept the box, the shelves, even the floor around it. Nothing. My heart sank as the realization hit me.
Someone had taken it. The only person who’d been in my apartment recently, besides my family and close friends, was Lydia. My stomach churned as I pieced it together.
She’d come over a few days after the breakup to drop off the engagement ring. She’d asked to use the bathroom before she left, and I’d thought nothing of it at the time. But now? It all made sense.
I grabbed my phone and texted her. Did you take the locket from my mom’s keepsake box? A few minutes later, she replied, What are you talking about? I didn’t buy it for a second. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
The locket my mom left me. It’s gone. You’re the only person who’s been in my apartment recently.
Did you take it? She didn’t respond right away. But when she did, her message made my blood boil. I borrowed it because I wanted to keep a piece of her with me.
I thought it would help me feel closer to you. Borrowed. She borrowed it? Without asking? Without even telling me? I couldn’t believe the audacity.
I called her immediately. When she picked up, she sounded defensive, like she was the victim in all of this. Michael, it’s not a big deal, she said.
I was going to give it back. Not a big deal? I snapped. That locket has been in my family for generations.
It’s not some trinket you can just take because you feel like it. How could you even think that was okay? I just wanted to feel connected to you, she said, her voice trembling like she was trying to play the sympathy card. I didn’t think you’d notice.
Of course I’d notice, I shouted. It’s my mom’s. And the fact that you didn’t think to ask me first makes it even worse.
She started crying at that point, but I wasn’t in the mood to comfort her. Where is it? I demanded. It’s at my parents’ house, she admitted through sobs.
I didn’t want to lose it, so I left it there for safekeeping. That was the last straw. You took something that didn’t belong to you, something that means more to me than you’ll ever understand, and you just left it at your parents’ house? Are you kidding me? I’m sorry, she whispered.
Sorry doesn’t cut it, I said, my voice cold. I’m coming to get it. Now.
An hour later, I was pulling up to Jack and Donna’s house. My anger had only grown during the drive, and by the time I knocked on the door, I was ready to explode. Donna opened it, her fake sweet smile fading away.
Michael, she said cautiously. What are you doing here? I’m here to get my mom’s locket, I said bluntly. Lydia told me it’s here.
Donna’s face shifted into a mix of confusion and annoyance. Lydia took a locket? Why would she… Just get it, I interrupted. She narrowed her eyes but stepped aside to let me in.
A few minutes later, Lydia came downstairs holding the locket in her hand. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy, but I didn’t care. All I saw was the locket dangling from her fingers.
Like it was nothing. Here, she said, holding it out to me. I snatched it from her hand and inspected it, making sure it was the same one.
When I was satisfied, I stuffed it in my pocket and turned to leave. Michael, wait, she said, her voice desperate. I didn’t mean to upset you.
I was just trying to… save it, I said, cutting her off. You stole from me, Lydia, from my mom. Like what you’d already done is not enough.
Her face crumpled and she started crying again, but I didn’t stop. I walked out the door, slamming it behind me. In the days that followed, I blocked her number, deleted her messages, and cut off every possible way for her to contact me.
I was done with her, her family, and all the drama they brought into my life. Calling off the wedding had been hard, but this? This was the final nail in the coffin, and as tiring as it was, it also felt like closure. I’d stood up for myself, for my mom, and for the values she’d instilled in me.
I knew I’d made the right choice, and for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.