And beneath these letters, at the bottom of the box, was something else—a small, velvet pouch. Inside, to my astonishment, was the necklace that Héctor had given me on our first anniversary. I thought I had lost it years ago, and yet here it was, the tiny sapphire pendant gleaming faintly in the dim light of my room.

I sat back, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions. Why had Héctor kept these? Why hide them away in a pillow, only to jest about it on our final day as husband and wife? It was a mystery I couldn’t quite unravel. But maybe, just maybe, these items were a reminder to him too—a symbol of a time when love was simple and uncomplicated, before life chipped away at what we had.

The contents of that old pillow, the unexpected treasure trove of memories, made me reflect deeply. Perhaps Héctor wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed. Perhaps, in his own way, he too was clinging to a past that had long since disappeared, hidden beneath layers of resentment and unspoken words.

As I sat there with tears drying on my cheeks, I knew it was time to let go. Not just of the pain and disappointment, but of the regrets that I had carried with me. I carefully placed the letters and necklace back in the box, closed the lid, and set it on the small table beside my bed.

That night, as I lay my head on the now-empty pillow, I felt a strange sense of peace. The weight of the past had been lifted, and in its place, I felt a flicker of hope for the future. I knew the road ahead would be challenging, but I was determined to make my way through it, to find my own path and happiness.

And so, with the dawn of a new day seeping through the curtains, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to dream again—dreams of a life rebuilt, of new beginnings, and of finally finding peace within myself.