I was young.
I was in love.
And I trusted someone who had worked hard to earn that trust.
The responsibility for the scheme belonged to the people who planned and carried it out.
Last month, I found the envelope containing Victor’s thousand dollars.
I had kept the money untouched.
Ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.
The same bills he had pressed into my hand on my wedding night.
For years, I couldn’t decide what to do with them.
Spending them felt strange.
Returning them felt unnecessary.
Keeping them felt like holding on to a memory I no longer wanted to carry.
Then I had an idea.
I contacted a local organization that provided emergency assistance to people leaving unsafe relationships.
I donated the money.
The organization used donations to help with temporary accommodation, transportation, and other immediate needs.
When I received the acknowledgment letter, I placed it in the folder where I kept the final documents from my first marriage.
