I was on a bus, 7 months pregnant. An old woman got in; no one gave her a seat, so I offered her mine. She sat down slowly, her hands trembling, and kept staring into my eyes as if she knew me. It was unsettling, but I smiled politely. The ride was long, and she didn’t say a single word. Then, as the bus pulled up to her stop, she leaned close, patted my arm, and whispered, “You’re a good soul.”
While leaving, she slipped something heavy into my coat pocket. I reached inside and froze. It was a small velvet pouch. Inside a thick, antique gold bracelet with strange engravings. My heart started pounding. Before I could call out to her, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd outside. I looked around; no one else on the bus seemed to have noticed.
When I got home, my husband’s face went pale as soon as he saw it. “Where did you get this?” he asked quietly. I explained, and he shook his head. “This belonged to my grandmother. It went missing before she died… and I never told anyone about it.”
I didn’t know what to say. Who was that woman? How did she have it? And why did she give it to me? That night, I kept replaying her stare in my mind… and wondering if I’d just crossed paths with someone who knew more about my family than I did.