Emily opened the antique mahogany jewellery box, her fingers brushing the velvet lining. The diamonds shimmered in the morning light, twisting her heart with memories. Her grandmother had given her the set a month before passinga ring with a single brilliant stone, delicate earrings, and a pendant on a fine chain.
Jamess voice carried down the hallway.
“Em, are you ready? Theyve called three times!”
“Almost,” she replied, shutting the box.
He appeared in the bedroom doorway. Three years of marriage had taught Emily to read his subtle tells. Today, tension coiled beneath his forced calm.
“Admiring your grandmothers jewels again?” He nodded at the box. “Might as well wear them sometime.”
“Its your colleagues birthday drinks,” Emily countered. “Bit much for a pub, dont you think?”
James shrugged and left. She traced the boxs carvings once more before tucking it into her dresser.
Two weeks later, her mother-in-law, Margaret, visited for supper. Emily was plating roast beef when Margarets saccharine voice drifted from the parlour.
“Jamie, darling, show me those diamonds again. Criminal, letting them gather dust!”
Emilys grip tightened on the serving dish.
“Mum, theyre her inheritance,” James said. “Shell wear them when she wants.”
“Oh, I know,” Margaret sighed. “But Cynthias daughter is marrying at the Savoy next month. Imagine the impression Id make in that set!”
Emily entered, setting plates down with deliberate care.
“Margaret, weve discussed this. Theyre sentimental.”
“Just for one evening!” Margaret clasped her hands prayerfully. “Id treat them like Crown Jewels!”
“No.”
The air thickened. James chewed silently, avoiding Emilys gaze. Margaret pushed her peas around with theatrical displeasure.
The visits increased. Each time, Margaret found new excuses.
“Emily, love,” she crooned one afternoon, “the university galas next weekthe vice chancellor will be there! Id love to make an impression.”
“You have lovely pieces already,” Emily said through gritted teeth.
“Not like these!” Margaret turned to James. “Talk some sense into her!”
And slowly, he did. Where hed once stayed silent, now he nudged.
“Em, whats the harm?” hed murmur at night. “Mum will give them back.”
“Theyre all I have left of Gran!”
“Christ, theyre just rocks! Mums upset over nothing.”
Emily stared at this stranger wearing her husbands face.
The breaking point came after another dinner. The moment Margaret left, Emily snapped.
“Your mothers unbearable!”
“Youre the unbearable one!” James exploded. “Hoarding trinkets like a bloody dragon!”
Trinkets. The word lanced through her.
“If thats how you see them,” she whispered, “we dont speak the same language.”
“Mums right. Youre selfish.”
She slammed the bedroom door, tears scalding her throat. How dare he? How dare they?
Margarets sixtieth loomed. At wits end, Emily asked for gift ideas.
“Oh, nothing, dear,” Margaret simpered. “I have everything.”
James offered no help. Emily bought an Hermès scarf and Chanel No. 5, wrapping them with foreboding.
The morning of the party, she opened the jewellery box. Empty.
She tore through the flat before cornering James in the kitchen.
“Where are my diamonds?”
He sipped his tea, unblinking. “Gave them to Mum. They suit her better.”
The room tilted.
“You stole from me.”
“Stopped your stinginess, more like.”
Emily snatched her keys. The taxi ride to Margarets was a red haze.
The door swung open. There stood Margaret in emerald silk, Emilys diamonds glinting at her throat and ears.
“Early, arent you?” Margaret blinked.
“Take. Them. Off.”
Margaret shrieked as Emily unclasped the necklace. “Madwoman! Those are my sons gift!”
“Theyre my grandmothers!” Emily wrenched the earrings free. “Call the policeexplain how your thief of a son stole them!”
James was waiting, apoplectic.
“You ruined her party!”
“You both betrayed me!”
“Family means nothing to you!”
She laughed, sharp as broken glass. “Funny. I was thinking the same about you.”
The divorce papers came through within weeks.
One evening, Margaret called.
“Happy now? You chose stones over marriage.”
“No,” Emily said softly. “You chose greed over your sons happiness.”
She hung up. The diamonds lay in their box, glowing softly.
Months passed. The silence, once oppressive, became solace.
Then, a letter arrived from her grandmothers solicitor.
“Your grandmother left this,” the elderly man said, sliding an envelope across his oak desk. “To be given only if the jewels caused irreparable strife.”
Emilys hands shook as she read:
*My darling Em,
If you hold this, know thistrue wealth isnt in stones, but in freedom. Sell them. Buy a flat. See the Nile. Become who youre meant to be.
All my love,
Gran*
She sold the diamonds that spring. Not for propertyher Chelsea flat was hers alreadybut for a pottery studio near Camden Market, a dream shed buried under “practicality.”
The day she hung the sign, she spotted James across the street. He looked worn, his shoulders slumped. Their eyes met.
She didnt smile. Didnt frown. Just watched as colour drained from his face before he turned away.
Inside, Emily ran her fingers over a fresh clay mound. The past was just thatpast.
The future, like the spinning wheel under her palms, was hers to shape.
