Liam was down on one knee in the park. My heartbeat kicked into overdrive as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny velvet box.
I thought he’d been strangely excited when we arrived here today for a picnic, but I never imagined this was the reason.
I stared at him, taking in the goofy, love-struck grin stretched across his face. Was this it? The moment I’d been waiting for?
“Lily,” he said, his voice a touch shaky, “We’ve been together for six years. During that time, we’ve overcome every hurdle that life threw at us and come out stronger. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?”
He opened the box to reveal a simple gold band with a small, solitaire diamond.
“I wanted to propose with your mother’s ring,” he said quickly, “but I couldn’t find it in your jewelry box, so I got this one as a stand-in.”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I just started to cry.
Not those delicate, ladylike tears you see in movies. No, these were full-blown, ugly sobs that shook my entire body.
It was pure, unadulterated joy, a tidal wave crashing over me. But right alongside it, this gaping hole, this raw, aching emptiness where Mom should have been.
“Of course, I’ll marry you,” I said between sobs.
Liam let out a sigh and slipped the ring on my finger. I wiped my eyes as I took in the way the light danced across the diamond’s faceted surface.
“Carl still has Mom’s ring,” I said. “We spoke about the ring before she passed, but she went so fast at the end…”
“I remember.” Liam moved closer and put his arm around me. “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here for this moment.”
My mom had passed away last year. For as long as I could remember, she’d told me her white gold ring with emerald stones and delicate carvings of vines that twisted along the band would be mine when the time was right.
It was a family heirloom that had been passed down in our family for generations. But more than that, it was a piece of her, a physical reminder of the way her laughter filled a room, and the way she called me “Princess Lilian” whenever she teased me about something.
I’d been so consumed by grief when she passed that I’d completely forgotten to ask Carl, my stepdad, about the ring. But now, it was time to collect my inheritance.
The thought filled me with mild dread.
Carl was a good man. He’d done his best to be a father to me after Dad died, but one thing had always been a bone of contention between him and Mom, and it was something I never got over.
See, Carl had a daughter from a previous marriage, Vanessa. She was already a teenager when Mom and Carl married, and the seven-year age gap between us was a barrier we never overcame.
Because she was the eldest, Carl had always insisted Vanessa should inherit Mom’s ring.
“It’s only fair,” Carl would grumble. “Vanessa will probably get engaged first since she’s the oldest, and she deserves something special.”
“I won’t neglect her, Carl. I have some lovely jewelry she can have, including my ruby Claddagh ring, but that ring is Lily’s, end of story.”
But despite Mom’s insistence, the ring remained a sore point. Whenever they argued over the years, the ring was bound to come into it, eventually.
So, when I texted Carl to tell him I’d be stopping by to fetch something from Mom’s jewelry box, I didn’t specify I was coming for the ring.
Carl smiled warmly and hugged me when he greeted me the next day.
“Hey, Lily! It’s been too long,” he said. “Amelia’s jewelry box is in the dresser drawer upstairs, the same place she always kept it. Go get what you want, and I’ll make us coffee.”
I thanked him and rushed upstairs. I pulled open the dresser drawer, lifted the jewelry box out, and opened it. My stomach dropped.
The velvet slot where Mom’s ring should’ve been was empty.
My heart plummeted. I hunted through the rest of Mom’s jewelry, but it just wasn’t there. I heard Carl’s footsteps approaching in the hall. The moment he stepped into the room, I confronted him.
“Where’s the ring?” I asked. “Mom’s engagement ring that she promised to me.”
“Vanessa has it,” Carl said, nonchalantly sipping his coffee. “She got engaged last week.”
“What? You gave her my mom’s ring?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, a tremor of disbelief running through me.
“She got engaged,” Carl repeated, his tone infuriatingly reasonable. “It made sense. We’re all one family, Lily.”
“You know that wasn’t hers,” I said, my voice rising. “You know Mom wanted me to have it.”
“Don’t be so selfish,” he snapped, his eyes turning flat and cold. “It’s just a ring.”
Just a ring. Like it was some insignificant trinket, devoid of meaning. Like it didn’t hold the weight of generations, the memory of my mother.
“It’s not ‘just a ring,’ and you know it,” I snapped as I stormed past him. “I can’t believe you did this to me, Carl!”
I climbed into my car and immediately pulled out my phone. I needed to call Liam. I had to tell him what had happened and hear him tell me that everything would be okay.
But then I saw the Instagram notification. Vanessa had shared a new post.
My fingers shook as I tapped the notification. Moments later, I had to suppress a scream as a carousel of photos popped up on my screen.
It was an engagement announcement, and in every photo, Vanessa was flaunting my ring like a trophy.
“Six months of love and I get to wear this forever 💍 #EmeraldQueen,” read the caption.
A wave of nausea washed over me. She knew that ring was mine, and she wore it anyway, flaunting it, rubbing salt in the wound.
I drove straight to Grandma Margaret’s house and told her everything. She listened, occasionally patting my shoulder reassuringly as I broke down into sobs.
When I was finished, she set down her tea and made a sharp, disapproving sound.
“So, they think they can rewrite our family?” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Let’s remind them they can’t.”
