He broke down immediately. He’d paid $15,000 for it, convinced by a coworker that it was an ancient fertility relic that would triple in value. He wanted to surprise me — to fix our finances and finally take that European trip we’d been saving for.
“I was ashamed,” he said, “and scared. I thought I could fix everything without worrying you.” I was furious — and heartbroken. But more than that, I realized we’d lost something more important than money: trust.
We talked. Really talked. He’d already filed a police report. And though we might never get the money back, something unexpected came from the whole ordeal — honesty. Vulnerability. A reminder that we’re in this together.
Now, the fake egg sits in our garden next to the tomato plants. Not as a relic of stupidity, but as a symbol of what we almost lost — and what we decided to rebuild.
