5. Lily
Lily
The pawn shop’s bell jingles overhead as I push open the door. A piercing beep makes me jump—one of those sensor alarms that always seems to trip when I’m entering stores.
“Don’t mind that, dear.” The voice is warm, grandmotherly. An older woman peers at me over half-moon glasses, her silver hair swept into a neat bun. Her smile chases away some of the shop’s gloom. “How can I help you today?”
I take a steadying breath, stepping deeper into the cramped space. The air smells of old wood and metal polish, and fluorescent lights buzz overhead like trapped insects. Shelves crowd with other people’s memories.
“I’m here to pawn something,” I say, my fingers closing around the silver bracelet one last time. Its weight feels heavier now.
She sets aside a polishing cloth and gestures to a worn velvet pad. “Let’s take a look, then.”
I place the bracelet down, my stomach fluttering. Part of me wants to snatch it back, cling to this last piece of what I thought was love. The old lady picks it up with gentle hands, studying it under a small desk lamp.
“Mm. Solid piece,” she murmurs, examining it through a magnifier. Her tone carries expertise wrapped in kindness. “How’d you come by it, if I might ask?”
“It was a gift.” The words taste bitter. “But I don’t need it anymore.”
Understanding sparkles in her eyes, but she keeps her questions to herself. Instead, she types numbers into an old calculator. “How’s this?”
The figure makes my breath catch—higher than expected, like the universe offering a small kindness. “That works,” I manage, feeling tension I was carrying ease out of my shoulders.
She counts out cash with careful precision. “Just sign here, dear. Standard procedure.”
My signature feels like permission to let go. She slips the bracelet into a bag, labeling it with steady hands..
“There we go,” she says warmly. “I hope this helps you in whatever comes next.”
My heart quickens. “It will,” I reply, the money warm in my palm, heavy with possibility. “Thank you.”
She nods toward the door. “Take care, dear. And don’t let that alarm spook you on the way out.”
I manage a small laugh, grateful for her gentle humor.
The bell chimes my exit, but this time the sensor stays quiet. Sunlight hits my bare wrist, warming skin that feels naked but free. One more chain broken.
I stand on the sidewalk for a moment, letting the late morning air wrap around me. I’m not sure what “comes next,” but for the first time in forever, that uncertainty feels like freedom. The cash in my pocket is a first step toward a new beginning. A chance to remember who I am without him.
Mari’s suppressants might be a risk, but right now, I need this—one night to just be me, to dance without looking over my shoulder. To breathe.