I stared down at the tiny object resting in my palms.
And finally understood something no one else in that auditorium knew.
Ethan hadn’t walked across that graduation stage alone.
The tiny object was an old hospital bracelet.
The plastic had yellowed with age.
The writing was faded.
But I knew every mark on it.
I had kept that bracelet for eighteen years.
It had been wrapped in tissue paper and tucked away in a small box at the back of my closet.
I had never shown it to Ethan.
At least, I thought I hadn’t.
My hands began to shake.
I looked at him.
“Where did you get this?”
Ethan swallowed.
“From your closet.”
I stared at him.
He gave me a small, trembling smile.
“I found it when I was looking for an old photograph.”
My fingers closed around the bracelet.
I remembered that night.
Ethan didn’t.
