Cleaning the attic was supposed to be a routine chore, but it led me to become a single woman after years of marriage.

My husband, Jeff, had once said everything up there was junk, including his old high school jacket. So, I tossed it into the pile for the dump. That evening, over dinner, I casually mentioned the attic cleanup. Jeff froze, then exploded, demanding to know where his old jacket was. Stunned, I watched him storm out, jump into his car, and drive off.

Curious, I followed him to the dump. Frantically, Jeff searched, muttering that he’d hidden fifty thousand dollars in that jacket for a “surprise.” But his strange behavior made me uneasy. Later that night, I overheard him on the phone, telling someone, “I don’t have the money anymore. She threw it out.”

I felt my stomach turn—he wasn’t talking about me. In that instant, I knew he was hiding something much worse. Confronting him, I said, “I’m filing for divorce.”

Weeks later, as I reorganized the attic, my hand brushed against something soft in an overlooked box—Jeff’s jacket. Inside, tucked in the lining, was the fifty thousand dollars.

This time, I kept it, no longer weighed down by Jeff’s lies but grateful for the unexpected fresh start ahead.