Girl Mocks Poor Grandma for Cheap Old Ring She Gifts Her, Throws It Away and It Opens — Story of the Day
Emma’s first dance with Dylan was everything she had hoped for—a moment of love, peace, and joy. But it was shattered when the hotel manager, Mr. Scotliff, approached with a nervous look. “Mrs. Henderson, someone is asking for you outside. She says she’s your grandmother—Martha.”
Dylan’s expression darkened. “Let me handle this.”
Emma shook her head, forcing herself to remain calm. “No, I’ll go. She’ll cause a scene if I don’t.”
Outside, Martha stood with tears welling in her eyes. “You look so beautiful, darling,” she said, reaching out. Emma took a step back.
“What are you doing here? You weren’t invited for a reason,” Emma said, voice tight. “I don’t think you need reminding.”
“I know, Emma,” Martha said, eyes filling with regret. “I had to see you get married.”
Emma’s anger flared. “My father would be here if it weren’t for you. You didn’t help when he needed you most!”
Martha’s face crumbled. “I’m sorry, dear. I regret it every day. I came to give you a gift.” She handed Emma a small, red jewelry box.
Emma scoffed. “A cheap piece of jewelry? How did you even get this?”
Martha’s expression fell, but before she could respond, Emma cut her off, the pain and anger erupting. “You let him rot in prison! You let him die alone!”
Martha looked heartbroken as she whispered, “I loved him, too, Emma. I just couldn’t—”
“Just go!” Emma screamed, eyes flooding with tears. “I never want to see you again!”
As Martha walked away, Emma’s gaze fell on the broken box, and a glint of something caught her eye. She picked up the ring and gasped. It was an emerald, dazzling and expensive.
Dylan appeared beside her. “Is that an emerald?”
Emma nodded, stunned. How could Martha afford this? She noticed a piece of paper tucked inside the box. Unfolding it, she read:
“I know you hate me, but your father was not a good man. I told your mother not to marry him, but she did, and it cost her life. I couldn’t help him; he didn’t deserve it. But I wanted you to have this, and the bakery—it was always meant for you. A lawyer will reach out soon. I love you, even if you never understand. Please don’t hate me.”
Emma’s knees buckled as the weight of the revelation sank in. She hurried home to her grandmother’s house, but to her shock, two moving trucks were parked outside. The neighbors told her Martha had sold the house weeks ago and moved after being diagnosed with stage-four cancer.
Emma’s heart raced. “Where did she go?”
“To Frank’s,” the neighbor said, concern in her voice.
Frank’s was a rundown motel in town. Emma raced there, desperate to find Martha before it was too late. At the reception, she demanded the room number, her voice trembling. The receptionist hesitated but finally pointed her in the right direction.
Emma burst into Martha’s room, eyes brimming with tears. Martha, frail and pale, looked up and smiled weakly.
“Emma… I thought you’d come.”
“I’m so sorry, Grandma. I understand now. I love you,” Emma said, sobbing...