My Son Brought His Fiancée Home — And the Necklace She Wore Was the One I Buried 25 Years Ago

my hand.

My fingers traced the left edge until I found the hinge—exactly where it had always been.

I pressed it open.

The locket was empty now, but the interior held the same delicate floral engraving I would recognize anywhere.

I closed my hand around it, my pulse racing.

Either my memory was failing me…

or something was terribly wrong.