One night, as I lay in bed, I felt something brush my foot. It was a tiny silver angel charm. Confused, I kept it and slipped it into my wallet for good luck.
Over the years, that charm stayed with me through exams, job interviews, heartbreaks, and turning points. Whenever life felt uncertain, it gave me a quiet sense of comfort—like it was meant to be there.
Twelve years later, at a company party, I met a new coworker named Emily. The moment she saw my wallet on the table, she froze.
“You have it,” she whispered.
I opened it and showed her the angel. Her hands shook as she explained it had once belonged to her younger brother. He’d given it to her for protection, but it vanished during a storm when they were kids. He always believed whoever found it would one day play an important role in her life.
We talked the entire night. What began as coincidence slowly became connection, then love.
Years later, on our wedding day, Emily slipped the charm back into my pocket and smiled.
“It was never lost,” she said. “It was just waiting to bring us together.”
That little silver angel wasn’t just luck—it was a love story finding its way home.
