After recognizing the delicate gold bracelet on Stephanie’s wrist, my breath caught—it was mine.

Life with Toby had been happy, or so I thought. We had been married for three years,

building our future together, dreaming of a home and children. When he left for a work trip,

I thought nothing of it. But after a fall that landed me in the hospital with a broken leg,

I met Stephanie, the nurse assigned to my care. We talked about our lives, and she mentioned

seeing someone, though it wasn’t serious. The next day, I noticed the bracelet—my bracelet—on

her wrist. When I asked, she said her boyfriend had given it to her a month ago, the same time

I lost it. Suspicion gnawed at me, and when I showed her a photo of Toby, her face paled. “He told me he was single,” she whispered.

Determined to expose the truth, I convinced Stephanie to help me confront Toby when he visited

that night. As he arrived, two police officers followed, and Stephanie pointed at the bracelet.

Toby’s shock quickly gave way to a confession—he had stolen the bracelet, given it to Stephanie,

and had been seeing her behind my back. He tried to apologize, but I remained firm. “Just leave,”

I said, my voice steady. That was the last time I saw him. Our divorce was finalized soon after,

and though my heart ached, I knew I had made the right choice.