When my fiancé proposed after six years together, I cried — part joy, part heartbreak.
My mom, Amelia, passed away last year. She was my rock. I miss her so much. Before death, she had to give me her engagement ring but failed. While I totally forgot about it.
It was an heirloom that goes from mother to daughter — white gold, emeralds, hand-engraved vines — passed through generations.
Her new husband Carl, who also had a daughter, didn’t like that. Over the years, I heard him grumble to my mom:
Carl: “Vanessa’s the eldest. It’s only fair she gets something.”
Mom: “She’ll get plenty. But this ring is Lily’s. End of story.”
After she died, I felt lost. Getting engaged felt like coming up for air — and I wanted to wear the ring she’d always promised me, to feel her close.
But when I opened the drawer — it was GONE.
Me: “Where’s the ring?”
Carl (shrugging): “Vanessa has it. She got engaged last week.”
Me: “You know that wasn’t hers.”
Carl: “Don’t be so selfish. It’s just a ring.”
Then, Vanessa posted photos flaunting it online like a trophy. “Six months of love, and forever to go #EmeraldQueen!”
But they forgot about my grandma.
She calmly sipped her tea and said, “No worries, sweetheart. Let’s remind them something.”
When Lily gets engaged, she asks her stepfather, Carl, for her late mother’s heirloom ring, which her mom had promised her. But Carl has given it to his daughter, Vanessa, instead. Heartbroken and betrayed, Lily turns to her unshakeable Grandma Margaret for support.
Grandma, determined to make things right, arranges a family brunch. During the meal, she reveals that the ring Vanessa is wearing is a fake, and the real heirloom ring had been kept safe with her. Grandma’s sharp words leave Carl and Vanessa speechless, and Lily finally receives the ring her mother intended for her. With the ring on her finger, Lily feels the strength and love of the women in her family, knowing that justice has been done.
