He remembered distinctly that a sketch of a necklace was tucked away in his mother's drawer. It was identical in design, from the shape and number of diamonds to every last detail.
At the time, he was captivated by the necklace, thinking it was stunningly beautiful. He was sure that it would look amazing on his little sister's neck.
His mother watched him, engrossed, and with a smile, she tousled his hair gently. She said softly, "This is a design I made for Aunt May's little girl, a sort of betrothal gift from you to her. Do you think it's pretty?"
He felt a bit shy then, but he still nodded with a smile.
Later, when May met with tragedy, no one spoke of the necklace again. Perhaps it was a private pact between his mother and May. Others might not have been privy to it.
So when May clasped that necklace tightly in her final moments, what was she trying to say?
Ian felt a choking sensation in his chest, and he abruptly stood up to step out onto the balcony, flinging open the window to take deep breaths of the outside air.
The token of his and Clara's affection was designed by his mother's own hands. She had been so hopeful for their union, so why was she now so adamantly opposed?
Was she unaware of Clara's background, or had something happened between her and May?
Ian gripped the necklace tightly in his hand, his voice hoarse. "I'll keep the necklace with me for now. I'm going to trace its origins—there might be a clue."
Meanwhile, Clara stepped out of the hospital room and made her way to the gynecology department. A few days ago, she underwent a check-up here, and today, the results were in.
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