After Brendan and I broke up, I thought the worst was over. But returning home Monday, I found all my furniture—my memories—scattered on the lawn under a mocking “Free Stuff!” sign.
Brendan? Gone. His message? “Lose what’s yours if you want half of mine.”
Furious but tired, I was about to give up… until a clang caught my eye. Hidden in my bedside table drawer—Brendan’s precious family watch, a priceless heirloom he forgot.
“Checkmate,” I thought, slipping it into my pocket.
When he called begging for it back, I played coy, letting him sweat.
The next morning, Brendan showed up with $500, grudgingly buying back his own legacy.
The best part? The power wasn’t his anymore. It was mine.
