That morning, I went to the store for milk, chicken, and raspberries. An odd combination, but it was what I needed. Milk for coffee and cereal, chicken for dinner, and raspberries for the muffins Derek loved.

But my simple shopping trip turned into a revelation. In the dairy aisle, I saw our neighbor, Mel. She was smiling, holding a yogurt container, and wearing my mother’s earrings.

My stomach churned. I approached her casually, trying to mask the shock.

“Mel, lovely earrings!” I said, forcing a smile.

“Oh, thank you! They’re a gift from someone special,” she replied.

A gift from someone special. My heart dropped. Derek had pawned my mother’s jewelry, but he had given part of it to his mistress.

I forced a smile. “Didn’t it come with a pendant and bracelet?”

Mel blinked. “I wish. Just the earrings. Maybe my special someone will get me the whole set.”

My heart pounded. Derek hadn’t just pawned my mother’s jewelry—he’d given part of it away. The man I married had betrayed me. And now I knew.

Later, I found the box containing my mother’s jewelry under my bed. It was empty. Panic surged through me. I confronted Derek, who denied taking it, suggesting the kids might have played with it. But my oldest, Nora, admitted seeing Daddy with the box and promising her a new dollhouse if she didn’t tell anyone.

Anger bubbled up as I realized the truth. Derek had taken my things. I demanded answers, and he confessed: “I pawned them for a vacation. We were struggling, Rachel, and I thought it would cheer you up.”

I couldn’t believe it. “You pawned my mother’s jewelry?!”

“We needed the money, Rachel,” he said, dismissing my pain. “The bills—”

I interrupted. “Return them. Now.”

He sighed, indifferent. “Okay, I’ll fix it, but you’re ruining everything.”

I couldn’t take it. My mother was gone. Her jewelry, her memory, was all I had left of her.

The next day, while shopping, I ran into Mel again. This time, I didn’t hold back. “Those earrings are part of a set,” I told her. “They’re family heirlooms, and I need them back.”

Mel’s face drained of color. “I didn’t know,” she stammered. “I thought it was a gift.”

She handed them over, apologizing, though I could tell she felt conflicted. “I thought he was being sweet… but I see now.”

I smiled, understanding her pain. But I wasn’t done.

The following week, when Derek went to work, I showed up at his office, divorce papers in hand. “You gave my mother’s jewelry to your mistress?” I said loudly. “You betrayed me. This is over.”

He begged me to reconsider, but it was too late. I had had enough.

Later, Derek was left with little to his name after the divorce—alimony and child support drained him. He had betrayed me in the worst way, and I was done.