She Demanded My Emerald Ring as Her Engagement Ring — She Didn’t See What I Did Next
Hi everyone. I’m Martha, 48 years old, a proud mom and a lover of all things jewelry. I’ve always dreamed of seeing my son happy with someone who truly loved him. So, when he proposed to his girlfriend, I was thrilled to welcome her into our family.
That is, until she demanded my emerald ring for her engagement. What I did next… well, she never saw it coming.
Let me take you back to how this all started.
I have two wonderful kids — Brandon, who’s 22, and Elisa, who’s 19. They’re my heart and soul. Raising them was the best part of my life.
Brandon is the responsible one. Hardworking, focused, and smart. He just graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering and landed a great job straight out of school. Elisa is more of a free spirit — creative, artistic, and currently studying at an arts academy. I’m proud of them both every single day.
Two years ago, Brandon came home from college one evening, grinning from ear to ear.
“Mom, Dad,” he said, “I met someone. Her name’s Alice, and she’s amazing.”
I remember looking at my husband and smiling. I could see how excited Brandon was.
The first time Alice visited us, I thought she was lovely. She was confident, polite, smart — and she laughed at my husband’s terrible dad jokes, which is a miracle in itself.
Over the next two years, she became a regular part of our lives. I watched her and Brandon grow closer, and when he finally announced they were engaged, I felt so happy.
“She’s everything I could’ve hoped for in a daughter-in-law,” I told my sister over the phone. “She makes him happy.”
I wanted to welcome her properly into our family, and I knew exactly how to do it — through something I loved deeply: jewelry.
You see, jewelry isn’t just a hobby for me. It’s my passion.
When I was a little girl, we didn’t have much money. I couldn’t afford shiny things, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming. I used to sketch rings and necklaces in the corners of my notebooks at school, imagining them sparkling on my hands one day.
In my twenties, I started small — making simple pieces whenever I could afford materials. It was hard, but I was determined.
One year, my sister gave me a beautiful set of tools for my birthday. “You’re too talented not to do this,” she said. That gift meant the world to me.
By the time I was in my thirties, I had built a small collection of handcrafted jewelry. Rings were my favorite to make — I poured my heart into every one.
Friends often complimented them.
“Martha, this is gorgeous,” one friend gasped, holding up a ruby ring I had made. “You seriously need your own shop.”
“If you ever stop making jewelry,” another friend warned, “I’ll riot. I mean it!”
Their words encouraged me, and I never stopped creating.
So when Brandon and Alice got engaged, I wanted to do something special. I invited them over for dinner and decided to give Alice a custom-made engagement ring — one I had designed just for her.
I spent weeks working on it. I picked a sapphire — deep blue and elegant — and surrounded it with tiny diamonds. I set it in white gold, sleek and timeless. I even sketched the design three different times before I was happy.
On the night of the dinner, everything felt perfect.
As I opened the door, I smiled and hugged them both.
“Alice! You look stunning as always,” I said warmly.
“Thank you, Martha,” she said, holding up a bottle of wine. “I hope this goes well with dinner.”
“Mom’s food goes with anything,” Brandon laughed. “She could serve it with root beer and it would still be five stars.”
We laughed and settled into the living room. The dinner was full of jokes, smiles, and chatter. I felt so proud seeing them together.
After we ate, I cleared my throat and stood up, holding a small velvet box.
“Alice,” I began, “I wanted to give you something special to celebrate your engagement to Brandon. This ring is my gift to you. I made it just for you, and I hope you love it as much as I loved making it.”
Her eyes lit up as I handed her the box. She slowly opened it.
Inside was the sapphire ring — gleaming, delicate, and full of meaning.
She stared at it.
Then… she tilted her head and said, “Oh… it’s nice.”
Just nice?
Then she glanced at my hand — at the emerald ring I was wearing. It was one of the first pieces I ever made. A deep green stone, perfectly set in a vintage design. It was personal. Precious. A symbol of everything I’d learned and loved about making jewelry.
Suddenly, Alice pointed.
“I want that one,” she said.
I blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”
“That one,” she repeated. “It’s gorgeous, and it’s so unique. That should be the engagement ring. I mean… shouldn’t it be an heirloom or something?”
I was stunned. Completely caught off guard.
“Alice,” I said slowly, “this emerald ring is one of the first pieces I ever made. It’s… very special to me.”
But she didn’t back down. She rolled her eyes.
“I want that one.”
I excused myself and went into the kitchen. My hands were shaking. I needed a minute.
When I came back, I held something in my hands — a small booklet from my workshop.
“This,” I said, handing it to her, “is a guide to designing your own jewelry. If you want something meaningful… you should create it for yourself.”
She looked down at the booklet. Then she looked back up at me.
“Are you KIDDING me?!” she snapped. “This is an insult!”
Brandon looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Before he could say anything, Alice stood up, grabbed her purse, and stormed out of the house.
Silence filled the room.
My husband gently squeezed my shoulder. “You did the right thing,” he whispered. “Some things can’t be demanded.”
I wanted to believe him, but deep down, I knew trouble was coming.
And I was right.
The next morning, Brandon called me — furious.
“Mom, why couldn’t you just give her the emerald ring?” he said. “You have so many. It would’ve been a nice gesture.”
“A nice gesture?” I repeated, stunned. “Brandon, she didn’t ask. She demanded. That’s a big difference.”
He got defensive. “But Elisa borrows your jewelry all the time!”
“Elisa borrows it,” I said. “And she returns it. What Alice did wasn’t borrowing. That was entitlement.”
Brandon sighed. “You could’ve avoided all this by just saying yes.”
“No, Brandon,” I said firmly. “I couldn’t. That ring is a piece of my story. And the fact that she dismissed the custom ring I made for her — just tossed it aside like it was nothing — that says something.”
He didn’t reply. Just quietly said, “You don’t understand,” and hung up.
That was the first time my son ever shut me out… and it hurt more than I could explain.
For days, I kept replaying everything. Did I overreact? Was I too harsh?
But then I’d remember her words — “I want that one.”
No respect. No gratitude. Just demand.
Elisa and my husband stood by me the whole time.
“You’re my hero, Mom,” Elisa said at dinner one night. “If someone ever demanded my stuff like that, they’d get more than a booklet.”
I laughed, but the ache was still there.
“I just don’t want this to cause a rift with Brandon,” I said.
“He’ll come around,” my husband assured me. “He’s a good kid. He’ll see the truth.”
And you know what? He was partly right.
A few days later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Alice standing there — no makeup, red eyes, holding a tissue.
“Martha,” she said quietly, “can I come in?”
I nodded.
She sat down on the couch, fidgeting with the tissue. Then she looked up.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I acted like a spoiled brat. I was out of line… and I hope you can forgive me.”
I looked at her, trying to read her face. I didn’t see pride or anger. I saw real regret.
“I forgive you,” I said. “But Alice… in this family, we value respect and thoughtfulness. That emerald ring means something to me. It wasn’t yours to ask for like that.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I just got caught up in the idea of having something ‘special’… and I didn’t think about how rude I sounded.”
I gave her a small smile. “Special things aren’t just given,” I told her. “They’re earned.”
We hugged, and for a moment, I hoped it was a fresh start.
But a little voice in the back of my mind whispered, Was this just a bad moment… or a glimpse of something deeper?
Only time will tell.
