I’m Olive, 23. This isn’t a sob story, but it’s about a necklace. Not just any necklace. It’s my late Mom’s. The only thing left of her, besides the memories. And trust me, those memories are all I have..

I lost my Mom Poppy when I was 19. Cancer. The worst kind. It was the most traumatic loss I’d ever experienced. My Mom was my favorite person in the whole world. We were incredibly close. She was my rock, my confidante, my everything.

One minute, she was right there with me, listening to my silly jokes and laughing with that beautiful, infectious laugh of hers. And then, just like that, I was standing in front of her grave, holding her favorite white lilies and scented candles, after she lost her battle with cancer.

The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she was really gone.

Every morning, I’d wake up hoping it was all just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Her loss took a massive toll on my emotional and physical health. I stopped eating, I couldn’t sleep, and every corner of our home felt empty without her.

I went through therapy, and it helped, but nothing could fill the void she left behind.

I remember sitting in those sessions, trying to put into words the depth of my grief. “She was more than just my Mom,” I’d say. “She was my best friend.”

The therapist would nod, but no amount of therapy could truly take away the pain. It was like a part of me had been ripped away, and the wound just wouldn’t heal.

I started doing better over time, but the hollowness never really went away.

Every time I saw something Mom loved—a flower, a book, even a recipe she used to make—my heart started feeling heavy… all over again.

But life had to go on, right?

I knew Mom would’ve wanted me to move forward, to find happiness even without her. It wasn’t easy, and some days were harder than others, but I kept pushing through, holding on to the memories and the love she gave me.

Dad crumbled, and I tried to be the strong one for both of us.

I moved back to Dad’s from the apartment I shared with my ex, bringing all my belongings, including Mom’s treasured diamond necklace. This necklace was a family heirloom she had inherited from her late grandma and passed down to me.

Over time, I began to heal. However, things took a turn for the worse when Dad introduced his new fiancée, Magdalene, my soon-to-be stepmom.

Can you believe that? I mean, Dad’s allowed to move on, right? But Mom? She was irreplaceable.

Magdalene had her eyes on Mom’s necklace from day one. Can you imagine the audacity of this woman wanting to wear something that belonged to the woman she was replacing?

“Olive, honey,” Dad started, trying to sound gentle. “Magdalene really admires your mother’s necklace. She says it would look perfect with her wedding dress.”

I was furious. “Dad, that necklace is everything to me. It’s Mom’s.”

Magdalene stepped in, all fake sweetness. “Oh, Olive, darling, I promise I’ll take good care of it. I just think it would be such a beautiful tribute to your Mom.”

Tribute? More like a slap in the face.

“No,” I snapped. “It’s not happening. I won’t give the necklace to anyone.”

Dad sighed. “Olive, please. It’s just for one day.”

One day? Like it’s no big deal?

“No, Dad. It’s a no.”

With that, I stormed away to my room, leaving Magdalene fuming. I knew I had to hide the necklace. But where? My room was a no-go zone. Magdalene was always snooping around. I needed a safe place, somewhere she’d never look.

Then it hit me. My childhood teddy bear, Buttons. I had him since I was a kid. He had a zipper at the back. Perfect.

I slipped the necklace inside, zipped it up, and placed Buttons on my bed. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

The wedding day finally rolled around, and guess what? I got the boot. Can you believe it? My own Dad’s wedding, and they didn’t even want me there. Magdalene had made sure of that.

While everyone was at the beach resort where Dad and Magdalene were tying the knot, I stayed home. I felt uneasy and decided to check on Mom’s necklace, thinking I should move it to a safer hiding place.

I picked up Buttons and unzipped him, digging into his soft fiber stuffing. My heart practically stopped beating. The necklace was… GONE.

I felt a cold dread creep into me. I knew who had taken it. Magdalene. Who else?

I called her immediately. “You took it,” I accused her. “How dare you take my Mom’s necklace without my permission?”

“Olive, darling, calm down,” she cooed. “I saw you hiding it. It belongs with the rest of the family heirlooms now.”

“It’s not yours!” I yelled. “It belonged to Mom! Give it back now!”

“Oh, please, Olive. Get over it. I can’t leave the guests and the wedding. I’ll return it after the honeymoon,” Magdalene said dismissively, “and you better not come here to make a scene.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “No, you won’t. You’re lying.”

“Whatever you say, dear. Enjoy your day alone,” she hung up.

My anger reached a boiling point. How dare she take my late mother’s favorite jewelry and flaunt it as her own at her wedding? My blood boiled. Magdalene needed to be taught a lesson she would never forget.

I immediately called the cops and explained the situation. I told them my stepmom stole my late Mom’s necklace and intended to leave for her honeymoon with it.

I rushed to the wedding venue, and by the time I arrived, the police were already there. I watched from afar as they retrieved the necklace from Magdalene.

The scene was pure chaos, with guests whispering and their jaws dropped. Dad looked like he’d been slapped. Magdalene was a mess, tears streaming down her face. I felt a strange satisfaction. She deserved this… and more for stealing my Mom’s beloved necklace.

My phone blew up with calls from Dad and Magdalene, but I ignored them as I discreetly left the venue.

The police called me shortly after to hand over my Mom’s necklace. I collected it, thanked them, and headed home. When I got there, Dad and Magdalene were already waiting for me, fuming.

“You ruined our wedding!” Magdalene screamed. “How could you call the cops over a crappy piece of jewelry?”

Dad joined in, saying, “That was petty and crazy, Olive. You humiliated us!”

Magdalene glared at me. “You’re a BAD daughter. You deserve to rot in hell for embarrassing me like that.”

I defended myself. “The necklace belonged to my late Mom. It has sentimental value, and you had no right to take it without my permission.”

Dad and Magdalene argued back, saying I could have waited to get it back. Dad’s words cut deep. “You’ve burned all bridges with us, Olive. I consider you dead to me after this.”

Heartbroken but resolute, I knew I had to protect what belonged to my Mom. I packed all my belongings, including Mom’s photos and mementos.

As I packed, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. This house held so many memories, good and bad. But it was time to let go.

I left for my old apartment downtown. Before I walked out, I looked at Dad. “You lost your daughter today, Dad,” I said coldly. “Congrats on your new marriage.”

Back in my old apartment, it was just me and the memories now. And that was okay. I felt a sense of peace knowing Mom’s beloved necklace was safe and where it truly belonged.

I spent the next few days alone and focused on healing. I joined a support group for people who had lost loved ones to cancer.

Talking to others who understood helped me cope. I started painting, something Mom had always encouraged me to do. It was therapeutic, a way to express my emotions.

Slowly but surely, I started to feel like myself again. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming. Life slowly started to settle into a new normal.

My old apartment was cozy, filled with memories of simpler times. Mom’s favorite armchair sat in the corner. I’d often catch myself talking to it, telling her about my day, seeking her advice, as if she were still here.

Work became my anchor. Long hours at the design firm kept my mind occupied. I threw myself into projects, finding solace in the world of colors and shapes. It was a way to escape, to forget.

One evening, while scrolling through social media, a picture popped up. It was Dad and Magdalene, looking blissfully happy on their honeymoon.

A pang of fury shot through me, then a wave of indifference. It was their life now. Mine was here, with Mom’s memories and the necklace.

It was a long journey, filled with tears and laughter, heartache and hope. But through it all, I emerged stronger. And as I look in the mirror even today, I see a reflection of the woman Mom had always believed I could be.

Here’s another story: My Dad hated my Mom’s hobby and believed she was only fit to cook and clean. After they divorced, I saw something in her new home and froze.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.