Miss Shu's world was filled with worry, but she did not stop trying. After many hopeless trips to the bank and the pawnshop, she sat one cold morning on her bed, looking at her hands. They were strong hands, used to years of work for her family. Now, she had nothing more to sell—except for things that meant the most.
She opened a small, red box at the bottom of her wooden drawer. Inside was her wedding ring, a little gold band set with one smooth, shining diamond. She remembered her husband putting it on her finger all those years ago. Back then, they laughed and promised never to let each other go. The ring was not just jewelry—it held her hopes, memories, and love.
As she turned the ring in her hand, she thought of Yang and Goo lying sick in their rooms. She knew the money from the ring would not be enough for a life-saving operation, but maybe it could start something. Maybe it would show others she would give up everything.
She went to the kitchen, where Yang was sitting, playing with his old wooden blocks. He watched her quietly, feeling her sadness. "Mom, you look tired," he said.
"I am fine," she tried to smile. "Mom just needs to take care of something important."
She put on her only nice coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck. The day was windy and cold as she walked into the part of town with bright shops and busy traffic. The jewelry store was larger than any she had ever entered. There were cases full of rings, sparkling necklaces, watches that glimmered in the lights.
Inside, a woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. It was the kind of smile that did not reach her eyes. "Hello, can I help you?" she said.
Miss Shu placed the small ring on the glass. "I would like to sell this," she said, her voice shaking a little.
The woman picked up the ring with soft, white gloves and studied it for a moment. "It is old," she said flatly. "Not a big diamond. We have much bigger, much prettier ones here. What do you need the money for?"
Miss Shu didn't answer. The woman leaned forward, her eyes sharpening. "Are you sure you want to part with this?"
"I need the money for my family," Miss Shu said softly. "My husband and son are both sick. I want to save them."
The woman sighed and wrote down a number. She slid the paper across the glass. The price was low, much lower than Miss Shu hoped. But she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. She took the cash and left the shop, feeling like her heart was heavier than ever.
Back at home, Brother Goo and Yang were sitting together, not talking much. When their mother came in, Goo looked up. "Did you sell something, Mom?"
Miss Shu nodded, sitting down at the table. "I did. But it is not enough. We must keep trying."
Goo shook his head. "We could ask Dad's old boss. Or maybe try to get help from the city."
Yang looked at his brother, hope flickering in his tired eyes. "I want to help, too. But I don't know what to do."
Miss Shu touched his face. "You get better. That will help your mother the most of all."
In the following days, Miss Shu walked from one office to the next. Sometimes she begged, sometimes she tried to look brave and businesslike. Most people were nice but did not really listen; their polite voices said, "Sorry, we cannot help." Sometimes, the answers were harsher. "There are too many who need help. Try the charity office."
She did not give up. On market day, she visited her old friend, Mrs. Lin, who sold vegetables by the street. Mrs. Lin listened quietly as Miss Shu told her story, her hands busy sorting carrots.
"If you need help, try asking the jewelry shop on King's Road," she whispered. "Sometimes rich people go in and sell their own things. Maybe you'll find someone willing to buy directly, for charity. It's a long shot, but you have nothing to lose."
Miss Shu thanked her and made her way to King's Road. Along the way, she thought about her choices. Should she ask strangers for a miracle? What would they think of her—begging, desperate, willing to part with keepsakes?
On King's Road, she found the biggest jewelry shop. The lights inside were dazzling. She stepped in, her voice just above a whisper. "Excuse me?"
A well-dressed young man approached. "May I help you?"
Miss Shu explained, softly but clearly. "I am selling my wedding ring. It is not worth much, but it is all I have. I need money for my husband and son's surgeries. They will die without help." She did not notice the welling of tears in her eyes.
For a moment, nobody said anything. Then another customer, a lady with sparkling diamonds on her wrists, said, "I will buy that ring—but on one condition. You must promise when your family is well, you will give another family in need your kindness."
Miss Shu's voice trembled. "I promise," she said.
The deal was made. The woman paid more than the ring's value, and Miss Shu left, astonished but grateful. She clutched the money to her chest all the way home, hope fighting with guilt in her heart.
That night, at dinner, Miss Shu placed a heavy envelope on the table. "This is for your surgeries," she announced. Goo's jaw dropped. Yang looked at her with wonder. "Where did you get this, Mom?"
"I sold my wedding ring," she said quietly, looking at her hands. "A kind woman helped us."
There was silence. Then Goo spoke, his voice soft and guilty. "You didn't have to do that, Mom. What will you do if things get worse?"
Miss Shu shook her head. "Our family's lives matter more than a ring. I can live without it. I can't live without you."
Yang reached over and hugged his mother. Goo looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed for ever doubting her.
That night, Miss Shu lay awake, thinking. She was proud she could help, but her heart ached for what she had given up. She promised herself it would not be for nothing.
Beyond her window, the sky was full of stars—a gentle reminding light over the family's hardest days. The diamond was gone, but the love that bought hope for her husband and son would last forever.