After a difficult breakup, I took a weekend to clear my head at my parents’ house. Brendan, my ex-husband, and I had just started the process of dividing our things when tensions flared. He had grown bitter and unpredictable, and I needed space to breathe and figure out what was next. My parents welcomed me with comfort, warm meals, and support, helping me accept that the relationship had truly run its course.
But when I returned home that Monday morning, I was stunned. My furniture—some of it passed down from family—was spread across the front lawn, with a bold sign reading “Free Stuff!” inviting strangers to take it. I was speechless. Brendan answered my call casually, admitting he did it because he thought I wanted to take “everything” in the divorce. His plan was to hurt me by giving it all away.
While gathering what I could, I found something unexpected: a valuable heirloom—Brendan’s grandfather’s watch—tucked away in a drawer. He had clearly forgotten it. I didn’t steal it; he left it behind during his impulsive act. Later, he called, asking if he could have the bedside tables back, clearly realizing the watch was missing. I kept the conversation light and vague, letting him sweat a bit—but I knew I’d return it.
The next day, Brendan came by, offering $500 to get the watch back. I handed it over calmly and told him we’d handle the rest through our lawyers. As he walked away, he looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t. I had no interest in revenge—just closure. And sometimes, closure comes not from what you take, but what you choose to let go.