I didn't throw away a sentimental necklace from my ex.#viral #storytime #aita #unitedstates #Usa

I didn't throw away a sentimental necklace from my ex. I'm 21. My dad died of cancer when I was 15, and I still think about him every single day. My family is from the south, and we have this thing about red cardinals. If you see one, it means somebody you lost is watching over you. My mom cries every time one lands on her porch rail. Honestly, so do I. When I was 19, I dated a guy named Brandon. A few months before we broke up, he gave me a silver locket. It has a little red cardinal on the front. Inside is a picture of me and my dad at the lake, the summer before he got sick. I'm laughing so hard my eyes are shut. Dad has his fishing hat on backwards. Brandon and I split two years ago. I haven't seen him or heard from him since. Not one text. I kept the locket, and it has nothing to do with him. Here's the part nobody knew. That picture is the only copy. Brandon borrowed the original from my mom's photo album to make the locket. Then that winter, my mom's basement flooded. The album was in a box down there. Everything in it turned to mush. The tiny picture inside the locket is all I have left of that day, so I wear it. Not every day, on his birthday, on mine, and on the bad days. Then I met Nolan. He's 23. We'd been together eight months. He's funny, he cooks, and he was great with my mom. I really thought he might be the one. One Saturday at his apartment, I took the locket off to shower, and set it in the little dish by his bathroom sink. When I came out, he was holding it. Where did you get this? I didn't think twice. I told him the truth. My ex gave it to me. He put it down really slowly, and you still have it. It's not about my ex. I said, "It's about me and my dad." That was the start of about six weeks of fighting. Every time I wore it, he would stare at my neck and go quiet. Then the little comments started. Then the bigger ones. Finally one night, he just said it. It's a masculating. My girlfriend walks around wearing another man's gift. I really tried to be fair. Cardinal lockets are easy to find online. I told him to buy me a new one. I'd wear his, and I'd just move the picture inside it. "No," he said. "I want all of it gone. I'll get the picture reprinted. From what? It's the only copy. So reprint it from the locket. It's a picture. It's not a big deal. It's the size of a dime, Nolan. It would be a blur." He shook his head. Even then, it's still another man's idea. That doesn't go away. So I asked him, "Are you jealous of a guy I haven't talked to in two years? What did he even do to you?" He didn't answer. He just went to bed. Two Sundays ago, I stayed over again. I took the locket off and set it in the dish. Nolan was in the kitchen making eggs. I showered, and when I came out, the dish was empty. Nolan, did you move my locket? Nope. It was right here. Maybe it went down the drain. He said it so calm. He didn't even look up from the pan. I checked the drain. I checked the floor. I checked under the rug. Then I noticed the little bathroom trash can had a fresh bag in it, and the old bag was sitting tied up by the front door. I walked past him into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the trash. There it was. On top of egg shells and coffee grounds, the chain was snapped in half. The locket had popped open. The picture was soaked, with a brown stain across my dad's face. I couldn't breathe. I picked it out with two fingers and dabbed it with a paper towel. So gently, like it could still feel it. You threw it in the trash. He turned off the burner. I told you I wanted it gone. You said you'd get it reprinted. I was going to. It was going to be a surprise. Nolan, this was the only copy. I told you that, like 10 times. He shrugged. So, I'd have figured something out. Something in me just snapped. You're clinically insane if you think I'd throw away a picture of me and my dad because you're insecure. His whole face changed. He walked to the front door and pulled it open. Get out. Nolan? Get out of my apartment. I grabbed my purse and my shoes. My hair was still wet. He threw my overnight bag into the hallway behind me, and I heard it hit the wall. I sat in my car in the parking lot with the locket and a paper towel on my knee. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn't get the key in. Then my phone buzzed. Throw it away and you can come back. A minute later, it buzzed again. Are you seriously picking a dead man over me? I looked down at the picture. My dad laughing with his fishing hat on backwards. I typed one word. Yes. Then I blocked his number. I'm moving to Spotify. Search Gerkho Story and follow.