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

“Please, Meredith,” he said. “Just the weekend, just two days. I miss her so much.

I want to take her somewhere special. Just her and me.”

Something in his voice cracked. It was a vulnerability I had not heard of ever since Lily’s birth.

Against my gut, against everything I’d learned, I said yes.

She never came back.

He called me days later, not frantic or regretful. He sounded as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

He was calm and crisp.

“Meredith, I think you shouldn’t see her.”

My knees buckled. “What?”

“There was an accident,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to see her this way. The funeral will be closed-casket.”

I screamed. I couldn’t breathe.

I collapsed. The panic was so violent that I blacked out.

When I came to, Garrett was there with his loyal dog. He must’ve come over when I blacked out.

He was holding my shoulders, repeating, “You cannot see her. It will destroy you. You’re not well enough for the funeral.”

The grief swallowed me whole.

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