Emma spotted a familiar pendant glinting around her friend Laura’s neck — it looked like it had been stolen right from her own jewelry box.
“That’s an interesting necklace,” Emma remarked, glancing pointedly at Laura’s throat.
Laura shrugged, “Oh, this? Just a cheap trinket.”
“But it looks expensive,” Emma said thoughtfully. “Is it real gold, do you think?”
She then looked toward her husband, Mark. He suddenly choked on his drink and turned a deep shade of red, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Mark, are you okay?” Emma asked with concern.
“Yeah, uh… fine,” Mark replied in a hoarse voice.
“So, what do you think about Laura’s necklace?” Emma pressed.
Mark shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just a little charm,” he muttered, poking at his plate.
Emma kept her eyes fixed on him. “I think it’s quite lovely,” she said softly.
Mark, clearly disinterested, replied, “I don’t know anything about jewelry,” as he busied himself with his salad.
Laura smiled awkwardly. “I like it too. It’s unusual. If you don’t look too closely, you wouldn’t even realize what it really is.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Emma said quietly. “It feels unique.”
Laura’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t buy it myself, and honestly, I’m not even sure how it got into my jewelry box…”
While Laura blushed, Mark suddenly looked pale.
Emma noticed the uneasy exchange between her husband and best friend. Sensing something was amiss, she decided to probe.
“I’ve been staring at it for a while, but I still can’t tell what kind of pendant this is. What is it, Laura?”
Embarrassed, Laura slipped the necklace off and set it gently on the table.
“It’s a butterfly,” she said hesitantly. “But when they make butterflies as jewelry, they usually show the wings spread open.”
“This one looks like it’s folded up, like a butterfly’s wings folded when it’s resting on your chest.”
Emma picked up the pendant thoughtfully.
“That’s a sentimental story,” Emma mused. “My mother gave me this necklace a long time ago.”
Her mother, who had since passed, once told her: “Wear it carefully, darling. This piece belonged to my mother, and before that, her mother. It’s an heirloom, very old.”
Emma asked, “Was it valuable?”
“My parents were poor back then,” her mother had said. “I pawned it once to help us get by. The gold is a rare kind — very old, handmade, from before the war. People offered me a lot for it, but I only let it go temporarily.”
Emma wore the necklace sparingly, too afraid it might break. She kept it safe in a special box at home.
“It’s my good luck charm,” she would say. “I passed all my exams with this around my neck. And I met Mark while wearing it!”
When she gave birth to their daughter, it was the only piece of jewelry she wore to the hospital.
During labor, Emma gripped the pendant so tightly the butterfly’s wings, once spread open, folded into a tiny shelter.
Afterwards, she feared the pendant was broken.
A year later, Emma took it to a jeweler to see if it could be fixed.
The jeweler explained, “Luckily the wings folded instead of breaking. But there are cracks in the metal now. If you try to open them again, it will snap.”
He offered two options: reinforce it with a metal strip, which would look rough, or connect the wing tips so the fold stays — making it a delicate 3D design.
Emma agreed to the second option, pleased with the result. The new form made the pendant even more mysterious since it wasn’t immediately obvious what it was.
She started wearing it more often. It wasn’t too bulky or awkward under her clothes, but she couldn’t wear it to work.
Her bank teller uniform required a small tie that always tangled with the pendant, making it uncomfortable.
So, the necklace mostly stayed in her jewelry box, occasionally taken out to remember her late mother.
One day, Emma asked Laura again, “So, where did you say you got that pendant?”
Laura shifted nervously. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s been in my jewelry box forever.”
Laura smiled weakly. “I wanted to wear it for New Year’s — it’s pretty but not flashy.”
Emma glanced at Mark. “Did someone special give it to you?”
Emma had long suspected Mark had a soft spot for her best friend. There were hardly any other female friends left.
Mark often made snide remarks about Emma’s other friends and even mocked them.
When Laura came over, Mark never hid his displeasure, barely tolerating her presence.
But with Laura, things were different. They talked normally — weather, news, kids, movies, everyday struggles and joys.
Mark even helped Laura occasionally with household chores.
Laura was a single mother of two. She managed on her own but needed help with heavier tasks.
Mark’s visits were infrequent and brief. He always seemed tired and distant, answering Emma’s questions reluctantly.
“She’s got a lot on her plate,” Mark had said once. “I pity her, alone with two kids.”
Emma’s suspicions grew: Mark’s visits were about more than just handyman work.
But there was no proof, and whenever they met, they acted like just friends.
You know the saying about men and women being just friends?
Suddenly, Laura’s young daughter ran up to her.
“Mom, why are you wearing the sleeping butterfly necklace Uncle Mark gave me? That’s my butterfly!”
Laura coughed, struggling to respond. “Go play with Nina, sweetie. Your butterfly is safe.”
Emma stared at Laura, then at Mark.
Laura cleared her throat while Mark buried his face in his plate, nose nearly touching the food.
“So, the necklace isn’t really yours,” Emma said slowly, “it belongs to your daughter.”
“And it was Uncle Mark who gave it to her,” she added, looking sharply at her husband.
Another odd detail: Laura’s daughter looked almost identical to Emma’s daughter.
People often thought they were sisters — even twins.
Laura’s son, younger by five years, was a spitting image of Mark — at least as a child.
When Emma pointed this out to Mark, he got flustered but gave a strange “scientific” explanation.
“Look it up online: wave genetics and telegony. It’s when a child resembles a man who isn’t the biological father.”
“Well, Laura’s been single. She won’t say who the father is. And the only man around is me.”
“So the genetics must’ve been passed on,” he said. “Go study it!”
Emma watched some videos. They claimed it was possible — even natural — but science couldn’t yet prove it.
Emma accepted the explanation but filed it away mentally.
“Well, you never know,” she said dryly. “People once thought electricity was magic because science hadn’t caught up.”
“You guys are unbelievable,” Emma said slowly. “One gives away my family heirloom that I’d recognize anywhere. The other has two kids by my husband and still pretends to be my best friend!”
“How do you even pull that off? And never slip up?”
Laura touched the pendant on her chest.
“Is this yours?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes,” Emma nodded. “It’s been passed mother to daughter for generations.”
Emma looked at Mark.
“Anything to say?”
“Uh… Emma, it happened once. Then things got complicated. But I didn’t leave the family! We were fine!”
“If Laura hadn’t worn my gift, you’d never have known!”
“As usual, it’s everyone else’s fault but yours,” Emma said coldly. “Just like I expected.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to their children laughing around the Christmas tree in the next room.
“I think I should go,” Laura said, standing.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Emma replied. “And don’t forget to take your kids with you!”
“Math says you have more kids, so he’s yours! I’ll manage somehow.”
“Emma, come on!” Mark protested. “We’re family!”
“Are you family with me and Nina? Or family with Laura and her kids?”
“Make up your mind!”
“And I’m not okay with all of us being ‘family’ together. That’s not how I was raised.”
“So, you want me to leave three hours before New Year’s Eve?”
“I said I’m not keeping you,” Emma smiled as Mark got up.
“Wait,” she called out, still seated. “Can I have that pendant back? It’s a family heirloom.”
Laura took off the chain and handed it over.
“Perfect! Something to give my daughter when she grows up,” Emma said, clutching the pendant. “For now, it can soak in holy water — maybe wash away the sins from that butterfly.”
Emma and Nina welcomed the New Year together. When Nina went to bed, Emma whispered:
“Good thing all the confessions stayed in the old year. In the New Year, I want none of this bitterness.”
She raised her glass of champagne to clink gently with the glass holding the pendant resting in holy water.