When I broke my leg, I noticed my nurse Stephanie wearing a bracelet — my grandmother’s gift that I’d lost weeks earlier. She said her boyfriend had given it to her. My heart sank.
Her “boyfriend” was my husband, Toby. He had stolen my bracelet and given it to her. Together, we confronted him. Toby confessed, but by then, my trust was gone.
I divorced him. The bracelet came back to me, but so did something more important — my self-respect.