When my son proposed to his girlfriend, I was overjoyed to welcome her into our family. That is… until she asked for something I never expected—my emerald ring—as her engagement ring. What I did next? Let’s just say, she didn’t see it coming.
Hi, everyone. I’m Martha, I’m 48, and I’m a mom with a big love for jewelry-making. My son Brandon’s happiness means everything to me, but his fiancée Alice recently pushed my patience to the edge—and nearly broke my heart in the process.
Let me take you back to how it all began.
I have two wonderful kids: Brandon, who’s 22, and Elisa, 19. Being their mom has been the best part of my life.
Brandon is a go-getter. He’s the type of person who sets big goals and works like crazy to reach them. He just finished his degree in mechanical engineering and already landed an awesome job. Elisa is more of a dreamer, full of creativity. She’s studying at an arts academy and has always marched to her own beat.
I’m proud of both of them every single day.
Brandon met Alice in college about two years ago. I still remember the night he came home, smiling like a lovesick puppy.
“Mom, Dad,” he said, dropping his backpack by the door, “I met someone. Her name’s Alice, and she’s incredible.”
When he brought Alice over to meet us for the first time, I instantly liked her. She was confident, smart, and kind. She even laughed at my husband’s painfully bad dad jokes, which, to me, meant she had a good sense of humor and a kind heart.
Over the next couple of years, I saw how happy she made Brandon. When he told us they were getting engaged, I was genuinely thrilled. She seemed like everything I’d hoped my son would find in a partner.
But that changed when she asked me for something I never imagined.
Before I get to that part, let me tell you a little bit about my passion—jewelry.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve been in love with the sparkle of gemstones and the elegance of jewelry. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so I couldn’t afford to buy any fancy pieces, but I always dreamed of making my own.
In my twenties, I started creating simple pieces. I would sketch designs on old notebooks and save every spare dollar to buy tools and materials.
My friends and family saw how serious I was about it. One year, my sister gave me a beautiful set of jewelry-making tools for my birthday.
“You’re too talented not to do this,” she told me with a smile.
With time and a lot of practice, I got better. By my thirties, I had built a small collection of handmade pieces I was proud of. Rings became my specialty, and each one told a story.
At parties, friends would gush over them.
“Martha, this ring is absolutely stunning!” one friend said at a dinner party. “You should seriously open your own store!”
Another laughed and said, “If you ever stop making jewelry, I’ll go on strike! These are too good to keep to yourself!”
Their support meant everything to me. Jewelry-making wasn’t just a hobby. It was my art. My therapy. My way of sharing love and creativity.
So when Brandon and Alice got engaged, I knew exactly what I wanted to do: design a special engagement ring just for her.
I invited them over for a celebration dinner. I spent the whole day cooking delicious food and setting the table beautifully. And of course, I had a surprise planned.
I had spent weeks designing a ring just for Alice—choosing a deep blue sapphire as the centerpiece, surrounded by tiny diamonds and set in white gold. I had imagined her smiling face when she opened that box.
When they arrived, everything felt perfect.
“Alice! You look gorgeous as always,” I greeted her at the door.
She smiled and held up a bottle of wine. “I brought this for dinner. I hope it pairs well with your cooking.”
“Mom’s cooking could pair with tap water and still taste amazing,” Brandon joked, giving me a hug.
We all laughed and sat down for a lovely dinner full of warmth and joy.
After we finished eating, I stood up with a small velvet box in my hands. My heart was beating fast.
“Alice,” I said, “I wanted to give you something special to celebrate your engagement. I made this ring just for you. I hope you’ll love it as much as I loved creating it.”
Her eyes lit up as she opened the box. Inside was the sapphire ring, sparkling softly in the light. It was elegant, meaningful, and made with love.
For a second, she just stared at it. Then her smile faded a little. She tilted her head, looking puzzled.
“Oh… it’s nice,” she said slowly. But then she glanced at my hand—the emerald ring I always wear, one of the very first pieces I ever made—and everything changed.
“That one,” she said suddenly, pointing straight at my ring. “I want that one.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
She leaned forward. “That emerald ring is gorgeous. It’s perfect for an engagement. I think it should be an heirloom, don’t you?”
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
“Alice,” I said gently, “this ring is very special to me. It’s one of the first pieces I ever made, and it has a lot of personal meaning.”
But she didn’t back down. Her eyes were locked on it like a hawk. “I want that one,” she repeated, almost whining.
I was shocked. I didn’t even know what to say at first. I quietly excused myself and went to the kitchen to breathe.
When I came back, I had a small book in my hands—one I’d written myself about jewelry-making, full of tips and ideas.
I handed it to her and said, “Here. This is a guide to designing your own jewelry. If you want something truly meaningful, you should create it yourself.”
She stared at the booklet, then looked at me with fire in her eyes.
“Are you kidding me?!” she snapped. “This is an insult!”
Brandon looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon. But Alice didn’t give him a chance to speak. She grabbed her purse, stood up, and stormed out of the house.
The silence left behind was heavy.
Brandon shook his head. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered before following her out.
My husband came over and gave me a quiet pat on the shoulder.
“You did the right thing,” he said softly. “That ring isn’t something she can just demand.”
I nodded, but my heart was heavy. I could already feel the storm coming.
Sure enough, Brandon called the next day, angry.
“Mom, why couldn’t you just give her the emerald ring?” he asked sharply. “You have so many others. It would’ve been a nice gesture.”
I was stunned. “A nice gesture?” I said. “Brandon, she didn’t ask—she demanded it. That’s not how this works.”
“But Elisa borrows your jewelry all the time!” he snapped.
“Yes,” I replied, “she borrows it. Then she gives it back. That’s respect. What Alice did was entitlement.”
He sighed. “You could’ve avoided all this if you just said yes.”
“No, Brandon,” I said firmly. “I couldn’t. That ring is special to me. And the fact that she tossed aside the one I made for her without a second thought? That tells me a lot.”
There was silence on the line.
“You just don’t understand,” he mumbled before hanging up.
It was the first time he had ever shut me out. It hurt more than I wanted to admit.
The next few days were tough. I kept thinking about everything that happened. Did I make a mistake? Was I too harsh?
But every time I remembered her demanding my ring like it was hers to take, I knew I’d made the right choice.
Elisa and my husband stood by me the whole time.
Over dinner one night, Elisa smiled and said, “Mom, you’re a legend. If anyone tried to take my stuff like that, I’d flip out.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” I laughed, though my heart was still heavy. “I just don’t want this to ruin things with Brandon.”
“He’ll come around,” my husband said confidently. “He knows what’s right.”
And, to my surprise, he was kind of right.
A few days later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Alice, eyes red and puffy, holding a crumpled tissue.
“Martha,” she said quietly. “Can I come in?”
I nodded and stepped aside. She sat on the couch, looking nervous.
“I’m really sorry,” she began. “I acted like a spoiled brat. I was rude and selfish, and I hope you can forgive me.”
I looked at her, trying to see if she was being honest. And I saw something I hadn’t seen before—real remorse.
“I forgive you,” I said. “But Alice, in our family, we believe in kindness and respect. That emerald ring is part of my story. It wasn’t yours to claim.”
“I know,” she nodded. “I got carried away with the idea of having something ‘perfect’ and forgot what really matters.”
“Special things aren’t demanded,” I said gently. “They’re earned.”
We hugged, and I hoped that this was the beginning of a better understanding. Still, deep inside, I couldn’t shake one question:
Was that moment just a slip-up… or a sign of something deeper?
Only time will tell.
