The Act of Defiance

If it werent for the innate curiosity he inherited from his antiquarian father, Luke Harper would simply walk past the glint in the heap of building debris and chalk it up to a broken bottle fragment. But he leans down, picks up the deepblack object.

It turns out to be an old silver signet ring set with a large, timeworn stone. In the glow of his lantern the stone catches a faint, velvety blue.

Luke knows old things better than people. His fingers automatically trace the interior of the band, feeling the shallow grooves of a faded engraving. His heart skips. He glances around the alley is empty and slips the find into his jacket pocket.

Back home, under a magnifying glass, any doubt disappears. The sapphire is genuine. His father has often told him that such a stone is a talisman of faith, hope and love.

The seal is antiquated, and after a gentle wipe with a soft cloth the stone reveals its true colour a rich cornflowerblue sapphire, not perfectly clear but with a subtle haze. It isnt a fortune, but it represents a hefty sum for his modest budget perhaps fivethousand pounds, enough for a downpayment on a flat or a swanky holiday.

What would you do?

Luke instantly begins hunting for excuses not to tell anyone about the find. The ring lay in the rubbish of a demolished Victorian terrace theres no owner, it would have ended up in a landfill anyway. He found it, so its his right.

He remembers Felicity. A month ago she, in tears, told him, Youre as reliable as a Swiss watch. But Ive realised life isnt just about reliability. It needs reckless acts, risks! Im sorry, Im leaving for Simon.

Reckless act? Luke chuckles wickedly, rolling the heavy ring between his palms. Ill pull a stunt that makes all your Simons jealous. Ill book a ticket to Santorini. Six months. Ill post pictures and you can watch and weep.

He doesnt yet know the exact value of the ring, but the antique shop he calls gives a tentative estimate, and the thought of such a gift to fate sends a thrill through him. Somewhere under his ribs a sweet ache rises. Luke squeezes the ring tighter, feeling his hands tremble.

He conducts a proper appraisal: searching the internet for the seal, matching the stone to photographs. Everything lines up. Then he sits down and begins to plot. The process feels intoxicating. He doesnt close his eyes that night, picturing turquoise seas and swaying palms.

Would you have managed to sleep? He wonders

Luke perches on the windowsill, mulling things over. Selling it means parting with it forever. And its a story Practicality wins. I need a buyer who appreciates its antique worth, not someone who will melt it down.

Someone who owns such a treasure has a lot to think about. Their imagination clearly needs room to roam.

So, Santorini thats decided.

What comes next?

Finally I could remodel, he muses. I could finally buy that lens Ive been saving for three years. He stands, walks to the window, watches the sleepy city, and adds, Or I could just slip the money into a savings account and not worry about tomorrow.

Morning finds his phone ringing. Its a mate who constantly drags him on hikes, which Luke always declines because of work. This time Ill go, he thinks, eyes drifting to the ring lying on the table, and he drifts back to sleep, soothed by sweet daydreams.

He wakes, grabs the ring it wasnt a dream. Deciding to mark the start of a new chapter, Luke heads to the upscale restaurant with floortoceiling windows, the kind that always intimidates him with its price tag.

There, at the bar, he spots her. Felicity. She sits alone, nursing a coffee. Her face is tired and lost.

He wants to turn away, but something stops him. An idea clicks.

He approaches the hostess.

Do you see that lady over there? he whispers. Id like to cover her bill. And could you give her this?

Luke pulls the ring from his pocket. It rests on his palm, heavy and mysterious, as if holding the secrets of its previous owners.

What? But this is

Just pass it on. Tell her its from someone capable of a deed. And that he wishes her happiness in any form.

He doesnt wait for a reaction, turns, and walks out, feeling the ground shift beneath his feet. He has just given away not merely a ring, but his ticket to freedom. For what? To prove what? That he isnt greedy? That he isnt calculating? That her accusation was unfair? Or simply to see wonder, not envy, in her eyes? That true madness isnt selfishness but the ability to let go?

***

Felicity sits in the nowquiet restaurant, unable to move. In her hand rests the ancient signet, heavy, cold, undeniably real. Beside it lies a note from the hostess: From someone who is capable of a deed.

She understands everything.

Its a reply. Not the one she expected not a plea to return. But something larger. A gesture from a man who, at great personal cost, proves he can perform the most selfless act of madness. Luke didnt spend the money on a car or a trip. He gave the ring to her. Simply that. As a sign of what? Forgiveness? Love? Freedom?

She remembers Simon, who argued with her yesterday over a café bill. She realises that the quiet, overwhelming power of such a deed isnt about bravado but about the gentle strength behind it.

***

Luke, still a little tipsy, sleeps in his clothes.

He dreams of walking on a beach where, instead of sand, scattered sapphires crunch under his feet. He awakes with a heavy head and empty pockets, recalling the ring, the restaurant, his reckless gesture.

He lies still, eyes halfclosed, catching the familiar scent of the perfume he once gave her for her birthday.

Luke opens his eyes fully and pushes himself up on his elbows. In the doorway stands Felicity, the ring clutched in her hand.

You? Why? Luke begins.

I returned Simons gifts, she says softly. And this Felicity holds out the ring. Its ours now. We could sell it and fly to Santorini together. Or we could keep it. If youre okay with that.

Luke watches her in silence.

He is completely sober and utterly content. He has performed a deed. And that deed, costing him a small fortune, has brought back something far more valuable.