I paused. My first thought was that it was one of those plastic costume rings kids lose in vending machines. But when I picked it up, the weight of it dawned on me.
It was solid; it was real.
A diamond ring that was definitely not something you find lying around in a produce bin.
My fingers closed around it instinctively.
I looked around. Other than us, the aisle was empty. No one seemed to be searching for it, and there were no voices calling out in panic.
For a moment, I hesitated.
What would this ring be worth?
What could it cover? The brakes? The dryer?
Groceries for the next few months? Noah’s braces?
The list went on in my head.
“Daddy, look! This apple is red and green and gold!” Lily squealed in excitement.
“How is that possible?”
I glanced at my children, my gaze lingering on Grace’s sticky pigtails and the proudest smile I’d seen all week, and suddenly, I knew.
This wasn’t mine to keep.
And I couldn’t be the kind of man who even considered it for more than a second. Not when she was watching — not when all four of them were watching.
It wasn’t because I was afraid of getting caught. It wasn’t because it was illegal, but because one day, Grace would ask what kind of person she should grow up to be, and I’d need to answer her with my life, not just my words.
I slipped the ring gently into my jacket pocket, meaning to bring it to customer service as we checked out.
But before I could take a single step, a voice broke across the aisle.
“Please… please, it has to be here…”
