When my son got down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend, I was over the moon. I was so happy to welcome her into our family. But that joy didn’t last long—because not long after, she did something that shocked me. She looked me right in the eyes… and asked for my emerald ring as her engagement ring.
What I did next? Let’s just say, she did not see it coming.
Hi, everyone. I’m Martha, 48 years old, a proud mom and passionate jewelry maker. I’ve always supported my son Brandon in everything he does. But lately, his fiancée Alice has pushed my patience to the absolute edge.
Let me take you back to where this all began.
I’m the proud mom of two wonderful kids—Brandon (22) and Elisa (19). They’ve been my whole world since the day they were born. Watching them grow up has been the greatest joy of my life.
Brandon has always been a hard worker and a dream chaser. He just finished his degree in mechanical engineering and already landed a great job. I couldn’t be prouder. Elisa is a bit more of a wild spirit—she’s funny, creative, and full of life. She’s studying art at an academy and always has paint on her fingers and wild ideas in her head.
They both amaze me every single day.
Brandon met Alice two years ago at college. One evening, he came home with a big smile and sat us down.
“Mom, Dad,” he said, “I met someone. Her name’s Alice, and she’s incredible.”
And when he finally brought her home to meet us, I could see why he was so smitten. Alice was smart, confident, and charming. She had this warm, bubbly energy, and she even laughed at my husband’s terrible dad jokes—which, to me, was a green flag.
Over the next couple of years, I saw how happy she made Brandon. And when he told us they were engaged, I was genuinely thrilled.
“She’s the one,” Brandon said with shining eyes. “I just know it.”
But then… she asked me for something I wasn’t prepared to give.
Before I get to that moment, let me tell you a little about something that’s very close to my heart—jewelry making.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been in love with gemstones. The colors, the sparkle, the beauty of it all. We didn’t have much money growing up, so I couldn’t afford jewelry, but I used to stare into shop windows, imagining what it would be like to create my own.
By my twenties, I decided to try it. I’d sketch designs on scraps of paper and save up every spare penny to buy small supplies. It was slow progress, but I loved it.
One year, for my birthday, my sister gave me a set of real tools. “You’re too talented not to do this,” she told me. That moment lit a fire in me.
In my thirties, I finally had a small collection I was proud of. My specialty became rings—each one made with time, care, and meaning. They weren’t just pretty—they told a story.
At dinner parties, my friends would gush over my designs.
“Martha, this ring is stunning! You should sell these!” one friend exclaimed.
Another joked, “If you ever stop making jewelry, I’ll start a protest!”
Their words encouraged me. For me, jewelry wasn’t just a hobby—it was a part of my soul. Every piece I made held emotion, memory, and love.
So when Brandon and Alice got engaged, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
I invited them over for a special dinner to celebrate. I cooked their favorite dishes, decorated the table, and most importantly—I made Alice a ring.
It wasn’t just any ring. I spent weeks picking the right stones and drawing up the perfect design. I wanted it to reflect her—elegant, bright, and confident.
That evening, everything seemed perfect.
When they arrived, I opened the door with a big smile. “Alice! You look gorgeous,” I said warmly.
She grinned and held up a bottle. “I brought wine! I hope it goes with dinner.”
Brandon kissed my cheek. “Mom could pair dinner with tap water and make it taste amazing,” he joked.
We all laughed and chatted, the house full of warmth and love.
After dinner, I stood up, holding a small velvet box in my hands. My heart was beating fast.
“Alice,” I said, smiling, “I wanted to give you something special to celebrate your engagement to Brandon. This ring is my gift to you. I made it with you in mind. I hope you’ll love it as much as I loved making it.”
She looked surprised and opened the box.
Inside was a delicate white gold ring with a deep blue sapphire at the center, surrounded by tiny sparkling diamonds. It shimmered in the candlelight—elegant, timeless, and unique.
For a moment, Alice just stared at it.
Then she tilted her head.
“Oh… it’s nice,” she said, but her voice didn’t sound excited.
She looked up, and her eyes drifted to my hand—the one wearing my emerald ring. That ring was one of the first pieces I ever made. It was my pride and joy.
Then she pointed directly at it.
“But I want that one,” she said.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“That one,” she repeated firmly. “The emerald ring. It’s gorgeous. It would make the perfect engagement ring. It should be passed down, like a family heirloom.”
My stomach dropped.
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Alice, that ring is very special to me. It was one of my very first pieces. It’s not just jewelry—it’s part of my story.”
But she didn’t care.
“I want that one,” she said again, now rolling her eyes like I was being ridiculous.
I excused myself and walked into the kitchen, trying not to lose my cool.
A few minutes later, I came back—this time holding something else.
It was a small booklet from my workshop. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “This is a guide on how to design your own jewelry. If you want something truly special, you should create it yourself.”
Alice’s face went red.
“Are you kidding me?!” she yelled. “This is an insult! I ask for something meaningful, and you give me a pamphlet?!”
Brandon looked shocked. He tried to speak, but Alice was already grabbing her purse.
She stormed out the front door.
The room was silent.
Brandon stared after her, then shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, and followed her.
My husband came over and gently put a hand on my shoulder. “You did the right thing,” he said quietly. “Some things in life aren’t meant to be demanded.”
I nodded, but my heart was heavy.
The next day, Brandon called. His voice was cold.
“Mom, why couldn’t you just give her the emerald ring?” he snapped. “You’ve got tons of jewelry. It would’ve been a kind gesture.”
I was stunned.
“A kind gesture?” I repeated. “Brandon, she didn’t ask. She demanded. That’s not kindness—that’s entitlement.”
“But Elisa borrows your jewelry all the time!” he argued.
“Elisa borrows, and then returns what she takes,” I said sharply. “Alice wanted to keep it. Forever. That’s not borrowing. That’s taking.”
Brandon sighed. “You could’ve avoided all this if you’d just said yes.”
“No, Brandon. I couldn’t,” I said. “That ring means something to me. And she dismissed the gift I made for her without even a thank-you. That tells me everything I need to know.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “You just don’t get it,” and hung up.
That was the first time my son had ever shut me out. And it broke my heart.
Days passed. I kept wondering if I’d made the right choice. But deep down, I knew I had.
My husband and Elisa were on my side.
One evening, over dinner, Elisa looked at me and grinned.
“Mom, you’re my hero,” she said. “If someone tried to take something of mine like that, I’d lose it.”
I laughed. “Thanks, sweetheart. But I don’t want this to ruin my relationship with Brandon.”
“He’ll come around,” my husband said. “He’s not blind. He knows what’s right.”
And he was right. Sort of.
A few days later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find Alice, standing there with teary eyes and a crumpled tissue in her hand.
“Martha,” she said softly. “Can I come in?”
I stepped aside, watching her closely. She sat on the couch and looked at me with regret all over her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I acted like a spoiled brat. I was completely out of line. I hope you can forgive me.”
I looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of fakeness—but all I saw was true regret.
“I accept your apology,” I said gently. “But Alice, in this family, we value respect. That emerald ring means a lot to me. It wasn’t yours to ask for.”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I just got caught up in the moment. I wanted something special… and I forgot what really matters.”
“Special things aren’t given,” I told her. “They’re earned.”
We hugged. I hoped that moment would be the beginning of a better chapter.
But deep down, a quiet voice inside me still wondered… Was this just one bad moment for Alice? Or had I seen a glimpse of something more?
Only time will tell.