For my wedding, my grandma gifted me her old, torn sofa. My husband didn’t want it in our “modern home.” 11 years later, we divorced.I moved out and sent the sofa to be fixed. The repairman looked stunned when he saw it—he said it was

ancient and would take a lot of work. I told him there was no rush. The next day, he called me in a panic: “Come fast!”.Inside the sofa were stacks of money, some gold coins, and a letter from my grandmother: “These are for your hardest days. I trust you’ll find them when you’re meant to.”She never approved of my marriage and must have known I’d need help one day. Even after her passing, she found a way to protect me when I needed it most.