A Fake for the Dearest
Max said it with such confidence and childlike sincerity that Vera couldnt help but laugh.
Max, weve only been dating for a couple of months, Vera picked up her coffee cup, hiding a smile. Whats all this about weddings?
Ive seen how he looks at you, Max nodded knowingly. So, get ready. And when it comes to ringscome straight to me. Ill make you a masterpiece, promise.
On her way home, Vera thought about how much their friendship meant. Max had been by her side for fifteen yearssince uni. Fifteen years of loyalty and trust. When hed chosen to become a jeweller, shed been genuinely proud. Watched his workshop grow, his client list expand. His pieces became well-known in town, and Vera often recommended him.
Months later, when Andrew proposed, the choice of wedding bands was obvious. Who else would she trust?
Max pulled up a chair, and they started sketching. Vera pointed out the lines she liked; Max suggested adjustments. An hour flew by. One design stood outelegant, with intricate patterns.
Thisll look stunning, Max tapped the sketch with his pencil. But its complex work. Will cost more.
Vera hesitated. Their wedding budget was tight.
Max, what if I bring my own gold to melt down? Would that cut costs?
Course. If its good quality, hallmarked, then yeah. Youd just pay for labour.
Vera remembered her grandmothers jewellery boxa chunky vintage bracelet, two chains, a few rings. She never wore them. Melting them into something meaningful felt right.
Deal. Ill bring the gold; you make the rings. Agreed?
Agreed, Max shook her hand. Ill make the best work of my life. For the dearest person.
A week later, Vera brought the box. Max weighed each piece, checked the hallmarks, noted everything. There was more than enough gold.
The wedding was perfect. Max gave a heartfelt speech. Vera and Andrew exchanged ringsgleaming, engraved with *Forever*. They looked happier than anyone alive.
The first month flew by in a blur. Vera never took her ring offuntil one morning, her finger itched. She assumed it was soap, but by evening, a rash appeared.
Maybe an allergy? Andrew suggested.
She applied cream, slept without the ring. By morning, the rash fadedbut returned by lunchtime when she wore it again. Days later, Andrew had the same reaction.
This is weird, Vera examined both rings. Why are we both reacting?
Could the gold be off? Or the alloy?
Vera didnt want to doubt Maxbut the worry gnawed. She took the rings for an independent appraisal, just to be sure.
The appraisers face was grim when he returned.
This isnt 585 gold, he laid out the results. Under a thin plating, its a cheap nickel alloy. Thats causing the reaction. The hallmarks fake.
Vera stared at the numbers, uncomprehending.
So these are fakes? Andrew reread the report.
Yes. Worth ten times less than you paid. And if you supplied goldit wasnt used. It was swapped for this.
Vera felt sick. Her grandmothers bracelet, chains, ringsgone. Replaced with worthless metal.
At home, she scoured the report for mistakes. There were none. Max had stolen from them. Smiled at their wedding. Pocketed the difference.
Andrew was furious. They tried calling Maxbut he dodged them. Had someone tipped him off?
Andrew went to the workshop. Vera stayed home. He returned two hours laterdishevelled, collar torn, a scratch on his cheek.
What happened? Vera jumped up.
He denied everything, Andrew poured water, hand shaking. First said it was a mistake. Then accused *us* of bringing fakes. I showed the reporthe tried to snatch it. Security broke it up.
Vera sank into a chair.
He filed a report, Andrew sat opposite. Claims I assaulted him. Says I threatened him. But you know I wouldnt!
The next weeks were hell. Police interviews. Witness statements.
Vera couldnt stay silent. She left a detailed reviewno emotion, just facts. Uploaded the appraisal. Did the same on social media, local forums.
A friend, Liz, messaged:
*Vera, isnt this too much? Youve been friends forever. Cant you sort it quietly?*
*I told the truth. I have proof.*
*Youre ruining his reputation.*
*He ruined it when he scammed friends.*
Liz didnt reply.
Days later, their group chat exploded. People shed known for years sided with Max.
*Appraisals can be wrong.*
*Why air this publicly?*
*So he skimped a bit. Friendships worth more.*
Max was the life of their group. Organised meetups, gave discounts. No one wanted to lose him.
Vera was removed from three chatsno warning. She texted Kate, her old flatmate:
*Kate, whats going on? Why was I kicked?*
*Max matters to us. Youre attacking him. We dont want part in it.*
*I shared facts.*
*To us, its an attack. We dont believe you. Sorry.*
Vera blocked her phone, stared blankly. Fifteen years of friendshipgone.
Her birthday arrived. Normally, shed rent a pub, invite everyone. This year, three people showed. Her closest friend, Marina, texted the day before:
*Im not coming. I had to choose. I chose Max. Sorry.*
Vera reread itno anger left. Just numbness.
Andrews court case dragged on six months. CCTV proved Max started the fight. He was fined; case closed.
Trying to prosecute him for fraud failed. Max insisted the gold was as ordered, claimed Veras appraisal was biased. Without the original goldlong since meltedproof was impossible.
Outside court, Vera sat on a bench. Andrew held her hand silently. Their friends were gone. The ringsfake, unwearablesat in a box at home.
Lets go home, Andrew stood, offering his hand.
At home, Vera opened the box, stared at the rings. No one would wear them again.
The next day, they visited a high-street jeweller. Chose plain bandsno engravings, no frillsbut with certificates, receipts.
Gift-wrapped? the assistant asked.
No thanks. Well wear them now, Vera said.
She looked at her new ring. Simple. Untainted by greed. Her grandmothers gold was lost. So was Max, their friends. But Andrew was here. And that was enough.
