**A Fake for the Dearest**
But *Ill* be the one making your ringsremember that!
Max said it with such conviction and boyish enthusiasm that Vera couldnt help but laugh.
Max, weve only been dating a couple of months, Vera replied, lifting her coffee cup to hide her smile. Why are you talking about weddings?
Ive seen how he looks at you, Max nodded knowingly. So brace yourself. And when it comes to ringscome straight to me. Ill craft you a masterpiece, I promise.
On her way home, Vera thought about how much their friendship meant. Max had been by her side for fifteen yearssince university. Fifteen years of loyalty and trust. When he chose to become a jeweller, shed been genuinely proud, watching his workshop grow and his reputation flourish. His designs became sought after in London, and Vera often recommended him to friends.
Months later, when Andrew proposed, the choice of who would make their rings was obvious. Who else could she trust?
Max pulled up a chair beside her, and together they sketched designs. Vera pointed out the curves she liked; Max refined them, suggesting elegant flourishes. An hour slipped by unnoticed. Among the drafts, one stood outdelicate, with intricate woven patterns.
This will look stunning, Max tapped the paper with his pencil. But its complex work. Itll take time, and itll cost more.
Vera hesitated. Their wedding budget was tight.
Max, what if I brought in my own gold to melt down? Would that lower the cost?
Of course. If its good quality, hallmarked gold, youd only pay for the craftsmanship.
She remembered her grandmothers jewellery boxa heavy antique bracelet, two chains, a few rings. Shed never worn them. Melting them into something meaningful felt right.
Then its settled. Ill bring the gold, you make the rings. Deal?
Deal, Max shook her hand. Ill make this my finest work. For the dearest person I know.
A week later, Vera handed over the jewellery box. Max weighed each piece, checked the hallmarks, noted everything down. There was more than enough.
The wedding was perfect. Max gave a heartfelt speech among the guests. Vera and Andrew exchanged rings, and for a moment, it seemed no one could be happier. The gold gleamed, the patterns entwined, and inside, engraved, was the word *Forever*.
The first month of marriage flew by. Vera never took her ring off, admiring it dailyuntil one morning, her skin beneath it began to itch. She assumed it was soap, but by evening, a red rash had spread.
Maybe its an allergy? Andrew suggested.
She applied cream and slept without the ring. By morning, the rash fadedbut returned by lunchtime when she wore it again. Days later, Andrew complained of the same.
This is odd, Vera examined both rings. Why are we reacting the same way?
Could the gold be low quality? Andrew frowned. Or the alloy wrong?
Vera refused to believe Max would betray them. But unease gnawed at her. After a week of worsening irritation, she took the rings for an independent appraisaljust for peace of mind.
The expert inspected them under a loupe, weighed them, ran tests. Vera sat in the waiting room, flipping through a magazine but absorbing nothing. Dread coiled inside her.
When the expert returned, his expression was grim.
This isnt 18-carat gold, he said, sliding a report across the table. Beneath a thin gold plating is a cheap nickel alloy. Thats causing the reaction. The hallmark is false.
Vera stared at the numbers, the graphs, unable to process it.
So these are fakes? Andrew reread the report.
Yes. These rings are worth a tenth of what you paid. And if you provided gold to be melted downit wasnt used. It was swapped for this alloy.
Nausea rose in Veras throat. Her grandmothers bracelet, the chains, the ringsgone. Replaced with worthless trinkets.
At home, she pored over the report, searching for a mistake. But the truth was undeniable. Max had cheated them. Stolen their gold. Pocketed the difference. And smiled at their wedding.
Andrew was livid. They tried calling Maxbut he avoided them. Had someone tipped him off?
Andrew went to the workshop. Vera stayed behind. He returned two hours laterdishevelled, his collar torn, a scratch on his cheek.
What happened? Vera jumped up.
He denied everything, Andrew poured water, hand shaking. First, he called it a mistake. Then he accused *us* of bringing fakes. I showed him the reporthe tried to grab it. Security pulled us apart.
Vera sank onto a chair.
He filed a report, Andrew sat opposite her. Accused me of assault. Says I threatened him. But you know me, VeraI didnt!
The next weeks were a nightmare. Police interviews. Witness statements. Vera couldnt stay idle. Fury burned in her chest. She left a detailed review onlinefacts only. Described the fake rings, the stolen gold, attached the appraisal. Posted it everywhere.
A friend, Emily, messaged her:
*Vera, isnt this too harsh? Youve been friends forever. Cant you sort it quietly?*
*I posted the truth. I have proof.*
*But youre ruining his reputation.*
*He ruined it himself when he stole from friends.*
Emily didnt reply.
Soon, their entire social circle turned against her. Group chats erupted with messages:
*Could the appraisal be wrong?*
*Why air this publicly? Talk it out like adults.*
*So he saved a bit of money. Friendships worth more.*
Max was the life of their grouporganising parties, giving discounts. No one wanted to lose him.
One by one, friends distanced themselves. Vera was removed from chats without explanation.
Her birthday arrived. Usually, she hosted a partythis year, only three came. Her closest friend, Marina, texted the day before:
*I cant come. I had to choose between you and Max. I chose him. Sorry.*
Vera read it again and again. No anger left. Just hollow silence.
Andrews court case dragged on for months. Security footage proved Max had provoked the altercation. He was fined; the case closed.
Attempts to press fraud charges failed. Max insisted the gold was as ordered, dismissing Veras appraisal as biased. Without the original goldlong since meltedproof was impossible.
Sitting on a bench outside the courthouse, Vera stared at the pavement. Andrew squeezed her hand. Their friends were gone. The jewellery, too. The rings sat unused in a boxshiny, worthless lies.
Lets go home, Andrew stood, offering his hand.
At home, Vera opened the box, staring at the rings. No one would wear them again.
The next day, they visited a high-street jeweller. Chose plain bandsno engravings, no flourishesbut with certificates and receipts.
Shall I wrap them? the assistant asked.
No, Vera said. Well wear them now.
She slid the new ring onto her finger. Simple. Unblemished by greed. Her grandmothers gold was lost forever. So was Max. So were their friends.
But Andrew was beside her.
And that was enough.
