A sense of unease
His uneasy tone wrenched my stomach into knots. As he gazed at me with inquiring eyes, I let out a shaky laugh to break the tense situation. “This is just a misunderstanding,” I remarked nonchalantly. Even yet, my laughter sounded hollow in my own ears. The jeweler’s silence was deafening, implying that something darker lay beneath the surface.
A Sense Of Unease
Questioned ownership
“Yes, of course, it is mine. “Why would it not be?” I said, attempting to convey confidence. But the jeweler did not laugh. His demeanor remained solemn and almost somber. His gaze, now sharp and concentrated, appeared to penetrate the very fabric of my claims. His refusal to lessen the strain made my palms sweat even more. Something was obviously out of place, and I had to figure out what it was.
Questioned Ownership
