My Ex’s Dog Brought Me the Pendant I Buried with Our Late Daughter – What He Led Me to Made My Blood Boil

The kind that smiles while telling you what you’re allowed to wear.

We had a daughter, Lily.

She was everything to me. My little girl was bright, fearless, stubborn, full of laughter, independence, and curiosity. The kind of child who would climb onto the kitchen counter just to get a better look at the rain through the window.

She was three years old when the world I knew turned to dust.

Before Lily was born, my grandmother gave me a delicate pendant, a small gold family heirloom engraved with our family initials.

She told me, “This is for the women in our line.

It carries more than gold, Meredith. It carries us.”

I added Lily’s name to it after she was born. Garrett, oddly enough, encouraged it.

Said it was sweet.

It became our tradition, our quiet bond, and in my darkest moments, I held onto that pendant as if it were oxygen.

I believed that no matter what happened, the pendant would always bind us together.

But Garrett and I didn’t last long after Lily arrived.

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