**A Fake for the Dearest Person**
But Ill be the one to make your ringsremember that!
Max said it with such conviction and childlike earnestness that Vera couldnt help but laugh.
Max, weve only been dating for a couple of months, Vera replied, picking up her coffee cup to hide her smile. Since when are we talking about marriage?
Ive seen how he looks at you, Max nodded knowingly. So, be ready. And when it comes to ringscome straight to me. Ill craft a masterpiece, I promise.
On her way home, Vera thought about how much their friendship meant to her. Max had been by her side for fifteen yearssince university. Fifteen years of unwavering support and trust. When Max chose the path of a jeweller, Vera had been genuinely proud of him. She had watched his workshop grow, his client list expand. His work had gained recognition in London, and Vera often recommended him to friends.
Months later, when Andrew proposed, the choice of wedding rings was obvious. Who else could she trust?
Max pulled up a chair beside her, and together they sketched designs. Vera pointed out the lines she liked, Max suggested adjustments, refined ideas. An hour slipped by unnoticed. Among the sketches on the table, one stood outelegant, with intricate interwoven patterns.
This will look stunning, Max tapped the drawing with his pencil. But its complex work, itll take time. Ill have to charge more.
Vera hesitated. Their wedding budget was stretched to the last penny.
Max, what if I brought my own gold to melt down? Would that lower the cost?
Of course. If its good gold, with proper hallmarks, then yes. Youd only pay for the craftsmanship.
Vera remembered her grandmothers jewellery boxinside was a heavy antique bracelet, two necklaces, a few rings. Her grandmother had left them to her, but Vera never wore them. Melting them down for something meaningful felt right.
Alright. Ill bring the gold, you make the rings. Deal?
Deal, Max shook her hand. Ill make the best work of my life. For my dearest friend.
A week later, Vera handed over the jewellery box. Max weighed each piece, checked the hallmarks, noted everything in his ledger. There was more than enough gold.
The wedding was perfect. Max gave a heartfelt speech among the honoured guests. Vera and Andrew slipped on their rings, and for a moment, it seemed no two people could be happier. The patterns intertwined, the gold gleamed, the engraving inside read *Forever*.
The first month of marriage passed in a blur. Vera wore her ring constantly, admiring its beauty. But one morning, she noticed something oddher skin itched beneath the band. She rubbed her finger, thinking it was soap residue, but the irritation lingered. By evening, a rash had formed.
Maybe an allergy to something? Andrew suggested.
Vera applied cream and slept without the ring. By morning, the rash had fadedbut the moment she put it back on, the itching returned. Days later, Andrew complained of the same reaction.
This is strange, Vera examined both rings. Why are we having the same issue?
Maybe the golds not right? Andrew frowned. Or the alloys off?
Vera refused to believe the worst. Max was her friendhe wouldnt cut corners. Yet doubt gnawed at her. After a week with no improvement, she took the rings to an independent appraiser. Just for peace of mind.
The appraiser inspected them under a loupe, weighed them, ran tests. Vera sat in the waiting area, flipping through a magazine but absorbing nothing. Her stomach twisted with dread.
When the appraiser returned, his expression was grave.
Ill be bluntthis isnt 18-carat gold, he placed a report in front of them. Beneath a thin layer of gold plating is a cheap nickel alloy. Thats why youre reacting. The hallmark doesnt match.
Vera stared at the numbers, the charts, unable to process it.
So these are fakes? Andrew reread the findings.
Yes. Market value is a tenth of what you paid. And if you supplied your own gold, it wasnt used. It was swapped for this alloy.
Vera felt sick. Her grandmothers bracelet, the necklaces, the ringsall gone. In their place, cheap costume jewellery masquerading as wedding bands.
At home, Vera pored over the report again, searching for a mistake. But the evidence was clear. Max had cheated themstolen the gold, pocketed the difference. And smiled at their wedding, toasted their happiness.
Andrew was furious. They tried calling Max, but he dodged them. Had someone tipped him off about the appraisal?
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 splashed water onto his face. First, he said it was a mistake. Then he yelled that *we* gave him fakes. I showed him the reporthe tried to snatch it. Security pulled us apart.
Vera sank into a chair.
He filed a report, Andrew sat opposite her. Accused me of assault. Said I threatened him, threw the first punch. But thats not true, Vera! You know me!
The weeks that followed were a nightmare. An investigation was opened. Andrew endured interviews, gathered witnesses.
Vera couldnt stay silent. She pulled up Maxs workshop page and left a detailed reviewno emotion, just facts. She described the order, their supplied gold, the counterfeit rings, attached the appraisal. Did the same on social media, local forums.
A day later, her friend Emma messaged:
*Vera, is this really necessary? Youve been friends for years. Cant you sort it quietly?*
*I told the truth. I have proof.*
*But youre ruining his reputation.*
*He ruined it himself when he stole from friends.*
Emma didnt reply.
Soon, their group chat erupted. People Vera had known for years sided with Max.
*Maybe the appraisals wrong?*
*Why air this publicly? Sort it like adults.*
*So he saved a bit of money. Friendships worth more.*
Max was the life of their circleorganised gatherings, gave jewellery discounts. No one wanted to lose him.
One by one, friends turned away.
A week later, Vera was removed from three group chatsno warning, no explanation. She texted Kate, her old university roommate.
*Kate, whats going on? Why was I kicked out?*
*Vera, you know why. Max matters to us. Youve targeted him. We wont be part of it.*
*I didnt target him. I told the truth.*
*To us, it looks like bullying. We dont believe you. Sorry.*
Vera set down her phone, staring blankly ahead. Fifteen years of friendshipgone.
Her birthday fell in early September. Usually, she celebrated lavishlybooked a restaurant, invited everyone. This year, out of twenty, three showed up.
Her closest friend, Marina, sent a cold message the day before:
*Im not coming. I had to choose between you and Max. I chose him. Sorry.*
Vera reread it until the words blurred. The anger had burned away, leaving only emptiness.
Andrews court case dragged on for six months. Security footage proved Max had instigated the fight. He was fined; the case closed.
Attempts to press fraud charges failed. Max insisted the rings matched the order, claimed Veras appraisal was biased. Without the original goldlong since meltedproof was impossible.
Outside the courthouse, Vera sat on a bench, Andrew silent beside her. Their friends had vanished. The jewellery was gone. The rings sat unused in a drawerworthless, fake.
Lets go home, Andrew stood, offering his hand.
At home, Vera opened the drawer, staring at the rings. No one would wear them again.
The next day, they visited a high-street jeweller. Chose plain bandsno engraving, no filigree, but with certificates and receipts.
Shall I wrap them? the assistant asked.
No, thank you. Well wear them now, Vera said.
She studied her new ringsimple, unadorned, untainted by greed. Her grandmothers gold was lost forever. So was her friendship with Max, with all of them. But Andrew was beside her. And that was enough.
**Sometimes trust, once broken, reveals what truly mattersand who does.**
