At 82, I thought I knew everything about my quiet neighborhood—until a storm revealed a buried secret. One stormy night, the wind shattered my front window. I called Carl, the handyman, to fix it. He arrived looking distant, but I didn’t think much of it,

The next day, while tending to my garden, I found something strange—an old metal box buried near the back fence. Inside, I discovered valuable jewelry.

I suspected Carl had hidden it there, but after contacting the police, I learned the truth. The jewelry belonged to Carl’s late mother. His wife had been selling off her belongings, and Carl hid the jewelry to protect it,

Relieved, I confronted Carl, who apologized, explaining he was just trying to safeguard his mother’s legacy. I assured him I understood, and we parted on good terms. The storm had passed, but it left behind a reminder of how far we go to protect what we love