The Initials That Changed Everything

That evening, I sat in the dim glow of the living room, the ring weighing heavily in my palm. Its once-familiar surface now felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else entirely. The steady ticking of the clock filled the silence.

Grabbing an old magnifying glass from the drawer, I held the ring under the light, determined to find answers. The date still haunted me, but something new caught my eye—initials etched faintly beneath it. They weren’t mine, and they weren’t John’s. They were a stranger’s. My hands trembled as I stared, the truth slipping further from my grasp. Whoever those initials belonged to held the answers I needed.