– Oh, just look at how they look! Perfectly matching the color of my eyes, right? I’ve always said sapphires are my stone, not yours. They suit you… well, forgive me, maybe a little. But on me—they’re pure royal elegance!
Irina froze with the towel in her hands, not finishing its journey to the drying rack. In the kitchen doorway stood Zoya, her husband’s younger sister, spinning in front of the mirror in the hallway, stretching her neck and admiring her reflection.
On her ears shone those very earrings that Irina and her husband, Sergey, had bought just three days ago.
It was a gift for their tenth wedding anniversary—a “tin” anniversary, though they had decided that after ten years of shared effort and patience, they deserved gold and precious stones, not tin spoons.
Irina slowly put the towel on the table and stepped into the hallway. Her heart began to pinch unpleasantly.
She didn’t like conflicts, but these earrings were not just jewelry for her. They were a symbol that they had escaped the financial pit, that they had finally started living normally, and that Sergey appreciated her.
– Zoya – Irina’s voice sounded tense but polite. – Why did you take them? They were in the jewelry box in our bedroom.
Her sister-in-law turned around, not a bit embarrassed. As always, in her brother’s apartment, she felt like the hostess. Thirty years old, no husband, no children, but ambitions and whims for three people.
– I was just looking for powder, I came in, and I saw the box. I thought, “Let me try.” Irina, don’t be so uptight. I just tried them on. Look how well they go with my new blouse! Perfect, right?
Zoya demonstratively adjusted her collar so that the sapphire in her necklace (also on her) sparkled in the lamp light.
– Very pretty, – Irina said, nodding with restraint. – Now take them off. We’re sitting down in an hour; guests will arrive soon, and I planned to wear this set myself.
Zoya pouted, and in her eyes appeared that unmistakable look of an offended child that always worked on her mother, Tamara Petrovna, and Sergey.
– Oh, here we go. “Take them off, put them down, don’t touch.” Irina, you’re so petty, it’s awful. I’m going on a date after your dinner. With a very serious man. I need to look high-status.
And all I have in gold is just that thin chain from mom, for graduation.
Irina felt irritation boiling inside her.
– Zoya, these are my things. New. I haven’t even worn them myself yet.
– Exactly! – her sister-in-law said cheerfully. – You haven’t worn them, so they don’t have your energy. I’ll wear them for one evening, it will bring luck. Are you really stingy with your own sister-in-law? I’ll return them! Tomorrow or the day after.
At that moment, the front door slammed in the hallway. Sergey returned with bags of groceries. A tired smile appeared on his face when he saw the women, but it quickly faded when he noticed his wife’s tense posture.
– Hi, girls. Why are you standing in the hallway? Zoya, you’re here already? Is mom coming soon?
– Seryozhka! – Zoya rushed to her brother, kissed him on the cheek, and immediately struck a theatrical pose.
– Look at this beauty Irinka bought! Doesn’t it suit me? Tell her to let me wear them for a bit. My life is on the line today, and you’re being stingy.
Sergey shifted his gaze from his wife to the earrings. His eyes showed confusion. Like many men, he hated women’s quarrels and always tried to smooth things over, often at the expense of his own comfort.
– Ir, well… – he began hesitantly. – Maybe, really? Let her go on the date. She’ll return them, after all.
Irina looked at her husband in such a way that he immediately went silent.
– Seryozha, – she said quietly – we saved up for this gift for half a year. We chose it together. It’s my gift. Personal. Earrings are like a toothbrush—you don’t pass them around.
– Oh, what a comparison! – Zoya snorted. – A toothbrush goes in the mouth, and this is the ear! Ears are clean. Seryozh, tell her! Mom will be upset if she finds out Irinka refused me in such a small thing.
Mentioning her mother was a forbidden but effective tactic. Tamara Petrovna, a domineering and loud woman, always sided with her daughter.
In her worldview, Zoya was a poor little flower that everyone must help, and Sergey and Irina were “rich people who have to share everything.”
– Zoya, take them off, – Irina repeated firmly, extending her hand, palm up.
Zoya demonstratively turned away and went to the living room, clicking her heels.
– I won’t take them off! – she called over her shoulder. – I’ve already completed the whole look, made the hairstyle for them. If I start taking them off now, the hairstyle will be ruined. Better wear pearls; they suit my age and make me look younger.
Irina stepped forward to follow, but Sergey held her by the elbow.
– Iruś, don’t get upset, please. Today’s a holiday, ten years after all.
Mom will be here soon; there will be a scandal through the roof. Zoja will go into a hysterical fit. Don’t ruin the evening. Let her wear them, I’ll go get them myself tomorrow. I promise.
Irina looked into his eyes. There was a plea for silence and peace. A deep breath, an attempt to suppress resentment. She didn’t want to ruin the celebration. But the feeling of her boundaries being violated didn’t leave her.
– Fine, Sergey. But if the earrings aren’t back by noon tomorrow, I’m going myself. And remember, my mood is already ruined.
She returned to the kitchen to finish the salads. The knife hit the cutting board loudly, almost aggressively. The sapphires she had dreamed of now seemed tainted with someone else’s audacity.
