Romans & histoires Story Of The Last Chrysanthemum

"You said you liked it once. I'm giving it to you now. Can we start over? Please?" I looked at that brilliant red. The dull ache in my stomach was gone. In its place was something harder, colder. "Charles, you've misunderstood something." I reached into my pocket and pulled out the diamond bracelet. I let it drop. It hit the marble step with a clear, small sound. The stones scattered for a moment before settling. "A gift is a gift. Even if you repair the main piece, it's been worn by someone else. It carries her scent, her memory, her claim."