A glistening diamond necklace in a jewelry box | Source: Midjourney
I lost my Mom Poppy when I was 19. Cancer. The worst kind. It was the most traumatic loss I’d ever experienced. My Mom was my favorite person in the whole world. We were incredibly close. She was my rock, my confidante, my everything.
One minute, she was right there with me, listening to my silly jokes and laughing with that beautiful, infectious laugh of hers. And then, just like that, I was standing in front of her grave, holding her favorite white lilies and scented candles, after she lost her battle with cancer.
A young woman mourning beside the grave of a loved one | Source: Freepik
The pain was unbearable. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she was really gone.
Every morning, I’d wake up hoping it was all just a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Her loss took a massive toll on my emotional and physical health. I stopped eating, I couldn’t sleep, and every corner of our home felt empty without her.
I went through therapy, and it helped, but nothing could fill the void she left behind.
A young woman sitting inside the church and mourning | Source: Pexels
The therapist would nod, but no amount of therapy could truly take away the pain. It was like a part of me had been ripped away, and the wound just wouldn’t heal.
I started doing better over time, but the hollowness never really went away.
A grieving young woman sitting alone on a wooden pew | Source: Pexels
Every time I saw something Mom loved—a flower, a book, even a recipe she used to make—my heart started feeling heavy… all over again.
But life had to go on, right?
A sad young woman sitting on the floor | Source: Pexels
Dad crumbled, and I tried to be the strong one for both of us.
I moved back to Dad’s from the apartment I shared with my ex, bringing all my belongings, including Mom’s treasured diamond necklace. This necklace was a family heirloom she had inherited from her late grandma and passed down to me.
Over time, I began to heal. However, things took a turn for the worse when Dad introduced his new fiancée, Magdalene, my soon-to-be stepmom.
A smiling senior woman holding a glass of wine | Source: Pexels
Magdalene had her eyes on Mom’s necklace from day one. Can you imagine the audacity of this woman wanting to wear something that belonged to the woman she was replacing?
“Olive, honey,” Dad started, trying to sound gentle. “Magdalene really admires your mother’s necklace. She says it would look perfect with her wedding dress.”
I was furious. “Dad, that necklace is everything to me. It’s Mom’s.”
A senior man in a blue shirt sitting on the couch | Source: Pexels
Tribute? More like a slap in the face.
“No,” I snapped. “It’s not happening. I won’t give the necklace to anyone.”
Dad sighed. “Olive, please. It’s just for one day.”
One day? Like it’s no big deal?
“No, Dad. It’s a no.”
An upset young woman sitting on the couch | Source: Freepik
With that, I stormed away to my room, leaving Magdalene fuming. I knew I had to hide the necklace. But where? My room was a no-go zone. Magdalene was always snooping around. I needed a safe place, somewhere she’d never look.
I slipped the necklace inside, zipped it up, and placed Buttons on my bed. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.
A fluffy brown teddy bear leaning on a bed headboard | Source: Pexels
The wedding day finally rolled around, and guess what? I got the boot. Can you believe it? My own Dad’s wedding, and they didn’t even want me there. Magdalene had made sure of that.
While everyone was at the beach resort where Dad and Magdalene were tying the knot, I stayed home. I felt uneasy and decided to check on Mom’s necklace, thinking I should move it to a safer hiding place.
A shocked young woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
I felt a cold dread creep into me. I knew who had taken it. Magdalene. Who else?
I called her immediately. “You took it,” I accused her. “How dare you take my Mom’s necklace without my permission?”
“Olive, darling, calm down,” she cooed. “I saw you hiding it. It belongs with the rest of the family heirlooms now.”
“It’s not yours!” I yelled. “It belonged to Mom! Give it back now!”
An angry young woman talking on the phone | Source: Freepik
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “No, you won’t. You’re lying.”
“Whatever you say, dear. Enjoy your day alone,” she hung up.
My anger reached a boiling point. How dare she take my late mother’s favorite jewelry and flaunt it as her own at her wedding? My blood boiled. Magdalene needed to be taught a lesson she would never forget.
A furious young woman holding her head | Source: Freepik
I immediately called the cops and explained the situation. I told them my stepmom stole my late Mom’s necklace and intended to leave for her honeymoon with it.
The scene was pure chaos, with guests whispering and their jaws dropped. Dad looked like he’d been slapped. Magdalene was a mess, tears streaming down her face. I felt a strange satisfaction. She deserved this… and more for stealing my Mom’s beloved necklace.
A cop car parked outside a wedding venue | Source: Midjourney
My phone blew up with calls from Dad and Magdalene, but I ignored them as I discreetly left the venue.
The police called me shortly after to hand over my Mom’s necklace. I collected it, thanked them, and headed home. When I got there, Dad and Magdalene were already waiting for me, fuming.
Dad joined in, saying, “That was petty and crazy, Olive. You humiliated us!”
A serious-looking senior woman crossing her arms and sitting on a chair | Source: Pexels
Magdalene glared at me. “You’re a BAD daughter. You deserve to rot in hell for embarrassing me like that.”
I defended myself. “The necklace belonged to my late Mom. It has sentimental value, and you had no right to take it without my permission.”
Dad and Magdalene argued back, saying I could have waited to get it back. Dad’s words cut deep. “You’ve burned all bridges with us, Olive. I consider you dead to me after this.”
An upset senior man covering his mouth | Source: Pexels
Heartbroken but resolute, I knew I had to protect what belonged to my Mom. I packed all my belongings, including Mom’s photos and mementos.
As I packed, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. This house held so many memories, good and bad. But it was time to let go.
I left for my old apartment downtown. Before I walked out, I looked at Dad. “You lost your daughter today, Dad,” I said coldly. “Congrats on your new marriage.”
Close-up of a young woman with a gray suitcase | Source: Pexels
I spent the next few days alone and focused on healing. I joined a support group for people who had lost loved ones to cancer.
Talking to others who understood helped me cope. I started painting, something Mom had always encouraged me to do. It was therapeutic, a way to express my emotions.
A young woman holding a pink ribbon | Source: Pexels
Slowly but surely, I started to feel like myself again. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t as overwhelming. Life slowly started to settle into a new normal.
An old armchair in a room | Source: Pexels
Work became my anchor. Long hours at the design firm kept my mind occupied. I threw myself into projects, finding solace in the world of colors and shapes. It was a way to escape, to forget.
One evening, while scrolling through social media, a picture popped up. It was Dad and Magdalene, looking blissfully happy on their honeymoon.
A pang of fury shot through me, then a wave of indifference. It was their life now. Mine was here, with Mom’s memories and the necklace.
A young woman looking at her smartphone | Source: Unsplash
It was a long journey, filled with tears and laughter, heartache and hope. But through it all, I emerged stronger. And as I look in the mirror even today, I see a reflection of the woman Mom had always believed I could be.
Close-up of a young woman wearing a diamond necklace | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
