It was my estranged younger brother, Henry. I hadn’t set eyes on him in nearly fifty years.

We had grown up under the same roof, faced the same struggles, and cherished the same mother. Yet, life had pulled us in opposite directions. A bitter dispute over an inheritance, harsh words exchanged, and years of silence had turned us into strangers. Now, seeing him standing there, his piercing green eyes so much like our mother’s, I felt a whirlwind of emotions—shock, anger, and an unexpected longing.

“Henry,” I murmured, barely managing to say his name.

His expression mirrored my own surprise. “Margaret?” he breathed, stepping hesitantly closer. “I… I can’t believe it.”

We stood frozen, staring at each other, while the pendant remained in my grip. Sensing the tension, the shopkeeper discreetly backed away to give us space.

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked, my voice edged with the weight of old wounds.

He let out a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on the pendant. “I could ask you the same thing. I saw it in the window, and it reminded me of her.” He hesitated. “Of Mom.”

My fingers tightened around the pendant, a protective instinct flaring up. “Well, it’s mine now,” I said firmly. “I was about to buy it.”

Henry ran a hand through his silver hair, exhaling heavily. “Margaret, please. I’ve spent years searching for anything connected to her. You know how much she meant to me. Let me have it.”

A wave of resentment surfaced as I stared at him. “How much did she really mean to you, Henry?” My voice was sharp. “You disappeared. Vanished without a word when she needed us the most. And now, after all this time, you just show up and expect me to hand this over?”

He dropped his gaze, shame flickering across his face. “I know I hurt you. I let everyone down. I was young, reckless… I didn’t know how to handle it. Leaving was the worst mistake of my life, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

His words softened something in me, but the years of pain weren’t so easily erased. “Regret doesn’t undo the past,” I said quietly.

“I know,” he admitted. “But maybe this is fate’s way of giving us a second chance. Mom wouldn’t want us to stay like this, Margaret. She’d want us to forgive each other. To remember her together.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked down at the pendant. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry—it was a link to everything we had lost and, perhaps, a bridge to what we could regain. Slowly, I extended it toward him.

He shook his head. “No. You found it first. It’s yours.”

I hesitated, then offered a small, tentative smile. “Then let’s share it. You keep it for six months, and I’ll take the next six. That way, we both have a piece of her.”

For the first time in decades, I saw the brother I had once loved. His face brightened, and he nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

Together, we walked out of the shop, filling in the gaps of the years we had lost. The pain hadn’t disappeared, but in that moment, it felt like we were finally on the path to healing. And I knew—Mom would have been proud.