The suitcases were still by the door.
Noah wanted them gone.
So together, we unpacked them.
Not because I needed the clothes.
Because the act mattered.
Lily carried my sweaters upstairs. Noah returned my slippers to the side of my bed. I rehung my dresses one by one, smoothing each sleeve as if welcoming pieces of myself back into place.
At the bottom of the first suitcase, beneath a stack of folded pajamas, Noah found a small velvet pouch.
“Mom, what’s this?”
I took it from him.
Inside was my mother’s bracelet.
The one I had sold years ago.
The delicate gold chain lay coiled like a sleeping sunbeam, its tiny clasp shaped like a leaf.
For a moment, I could not breathe.
“I thought it was gone,” I whispered.
Lily touched it with one finger. “Dad had it?”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
The room blurred.
