Every morning I felt nauseous, but the doctors couldn’t find the cause.

One day, a jeweler on the subway touched my hand. Take off that necklace. I see something in the pendant.

I shuddered. My husband gave it to me. Naja rose in her throat like a familiar tide.

Sophia barely had her eyes open before she threw back the comforter and sprinted to the bathroom, managing to slam the door just before her stomach emptied itself completely.

For two months, every single morning had begun the same way with this exhausting ritual over the toilet, after which she felt utterly rung out, splashing her face with cold water.

Sophia stared at her reflection in the mirror. A pale face, dark circles under her eyes, sharp cheekbones.

In those two months, she had lost 15 lbs. Though she’d never been overweight, her colleagues at the pharmacy had already started whispering behind her back. She would catch fragments of conversations about anorexia and nervous exhaustion.

The bathroom door creaked open and Alex’s worried face appeared. Again, he asked softly.

Sophia nodded, unable to speak.

Her husband came closer, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she smelled the familiar scent of his woody cologne with notes of bergamont.

“What if we see another doctor? Mom says she knows a gastroenterenterologist, a really good specialist.”

At the mention of her mother-in-law, Sophia tensed involuntarily but tried not to show it. Eleanor was a delicate subject in their marriage, the only cloud in the clear sky of their relationship.

I’ve already seen five doctors, Alex. They all say the same thing. The tests are fine. My organs are healthy. Maybe it’s psychossematic, so you need a psychologist.

Sophia pulled away and looked her husband in the eyes. Was it her imagination, or did a flicker of doubt cross his gaze? No, she was probably imagining it. Alex loved her. Of that, she had no doubt.

I’m not crazy, she said quietly, but firmly.

I’m not saying you’re crazy. It’s just that mom thinks,

“And what else does your mother think?” The question came out sharper than she intended.

Alex frowned, and an uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Sophia immediately regretted her words. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. This nausea is draining me.”

Her husband nodded, but she saw a shadow of hurt in his eyes. He could never take her complaints about his mother calmly. To him, Eleanor was the ideal woman. Strong, wise, always right.

And Sophia. Sophia was just the wife who, for some reason, couldn’t find common ground with his family.

As she got ready for work, she mechanically touched the pendant on her neck, an elegant silver oval with an engraved ivy leaf. Alex had given it to her for their third wedding anniversary two months ago.

“So you can always feel my love close to you,” he had said then, fastening the chain around her neck.

Since then, she hadn’t taken the piece of jewelry off for a minute. The pendant was cool and pleasant against her skin, and Sophia smiled involuntarily. Whatever happened, she had Alex, the man who had changed her life 3 years ago.

On her way to work, as usual, she went down into the subway. The morning crowd, the smell of coffee and perfume, the murmur of voices. All of it had become the familiar backdrop to her days.

Sophia leaned against the handrail, closing her eyes. The nausea had subsided a bit, but the weakness remained.

Excuse me.

The voice was very close, and Sophia jumped, opening her eyes.

In front of her stood an older man, tall with a neat gray beard and an attentive gaze in his dark eyes. He wore an old-fashioned but well-kept suit, and on his ring finger was a wide gold ring with an intricate engraving.

“Do I know you?” Sophia asked, bewildered.

“No, but I must tell you something.”

The man spoke softly, almost in a whisper, leaning toward her. He smelled of old books and faintly of metal.

“I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”

Sophia tried to pull away, thinking he was another city eccentric or a con man, but the man gently touched her arm. He didn’t grab her, but touched her lightly, carefully.

Take off the necklace. I see what’s independent.

Sophia froze. Her fingers went involuntarily to the piece of jewelry.

My husband gave it to me for our anniversary.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Open it in front of me,” the man said quietly. There was no threat in his voice. Only a strange, terrifying certainty.

It doesn’t open. It’s a solid piece.

The stranger shook his head.

Yes, it does. Do you see that line on the side edge? It’s a mechanism.

Sophia wanted to argue, to walk away, to call the police, anything, but something in the man’s eyes made her hesitate. He didn’t seem like a madman, and he certainly didn’t look like a scammer.

The train slowed, the doors opened. People around them moved, getting on and off.

The man took a business card from his pocket and handed it to her.

Richard Sterling, jeweler and antiquarian, 40 years working with jewelry. If you don’t believe me, check for yourself. But if you value your life, take that pendant off and never put it on again.

He stepped out of the car and the doors closed behind him.

Sophia stood there clutching the card in her hand, her heart beating so loud it felt like the whole car could hear it.

The workday dragged on unbearably long. The pharmacy, where Sophia had worked for 5 years, was in a residential neighborhood. Regular customers, familiar prescriptions, familiar faces. Usually, this routine calmed her. But today, every minute was a struggle.

Sophia, you’re so pale, noticed Lucy, her friend and colleague, coming up to the register during a lull between customers.

Morning sickness as always. Have you taken a pregnancy test?

Sophia smiled bitterly. About 20 times, all negative.

Lucy frowned. They had been friends since their first year of pharmacy school almost 10 years ago. Lucy was a nurse at the clinic next door and knew more about Sophia’s health than the doctors themselves.

Maybe a hidden infection. Parasites.

They’ve tested me for everything. Nothing.

What about a toxicology screen?

Sophia looked at her friend in surprise.

Toxicology? You think someone is poisoning me?

Lucy shrugged. I’m just going through the options. The symptoms are very strange. Morning sickness, weakness, weight loss, and all the tests are normal. That can happen with chronic lowd dose poisoning.

Sophia felt her hands go cold. The words of the stranger on the subway came back to her with terrifying clarity. If you value your life, take that pendant off.

Lucy, that’s ridiculous. No one would want to poison me.

What about your mother-in-law? Lucy asked. You’ve told me yourself how much she hates you? How she tried to break you two up? How she told Alex you weren’t the woman for him?

Sophia shook her head. Yes, her relationship with Eleanor was far from ideal, but poisoning sounded insane.

She’s an overbearing, unpleasant woman, but not a murderer.

Lucy fell silent, but her expression was doubtful.

Sophia turned to the medicine shelf, pretending to check expiration dates. The jeweler’s card burned in her pocket like a hot coal.

That evening, when she got home, Sophia went straight to the bathroom and examined the pendant in the mirror for a long time. The elegant silver oval with the ivy leaf. Alex had said he’d had it commissioned from a jewelry workshop, an exclusive hand engraved piece.

She ran her finger along the side edge and suddenly stopped. There really was a fine, barely perceptible line, almost invisible. She had previously mistaken it for a decorative element, but now

Sophia, are you home? Alex’s voice came from the entryway.

She startled and quickly hid the pendant under her blouse.

Yes, I’m in the bathroom.

Coming out to greet her husband.

She tried to smile as naturally as possible.

Alex looked tired. He worked as an architect at a large firm and had been staying late for a month on a major project.

How are you feeling? He asked, kissing her on the forehead.

Better. I’ve barely had any nausea during the day. See, maybe it’s already passing.

Sophia nodded, though she knew it wasn’t true. The nausea didn’t disappear. She had just learned to hide it, but the weakness was only increasing. Sometimes she felt like her legs would give out and she would collapse right at work.

During dinner, Alex talked about the project, the difficulties with the client, the plans for the weekend.

Sophia listened with half an ear, thinking about the pendant. Should she tell her husband about the strange jeweler, or would she just scare him and he would once again advise her to see a psychologist?

“Mom asked us to stop by on Sunday,” Alex said casually.

Sophia suppressed a sigh. She’s worried about you. You know, the skepticism in her voice was obvious.

Alex frowned. Sophia, you’re unfair to her. She wants to help.

Help. Your mother has hated me from day one. You know that perfectly well.

That’s not true.

Not true. And who told me at our wedding that I was ruining her son’s life? Who called you every day for the first year of our marriage, convincing you to get a divorce? who still refers to me as that woman instead of by my name.”

Alex put down his fork.

“She has a difficult character, but she’s my mother, and that means I have to endure her humiliations.”

A heavy silence fell. Sophia watched as her husband struggled within himself between his love for her and his loyalty to his mother. That struggle had been going on for the 3 years of their marriage, and each time it ended the same way. Alex would try to please both, and Sophia would be the one to suffer.

Let’s not argue,” he said finally. “You’re sick. I’m tired. Let’s talk about this later.”

Sophia wanted to retort, but held back. “He was right.” They were both too exhausted for this conversation.

At night, she lay awake, listening to her husband’s even breathing beside her. The pendant was still on her neck, now warm from her body heat.

The jeweler’s words wouldn’t leave her alone. What had he seen in that piece of jewelry? and why was he so sure it was dangerous?

The memory of her first meeting with her mother-in-law surfaced on its own, unwanted but inevitable.

It was four years ago in a restaurant with a panoramic view of the city. Alex had invited her to meet his mother and Sophia had prepared for the meeting with the excitement of a young woman in love wanting to please her beloveds family.

Eleanor arrived 20 minutes late. As she later learned, this was her signature move. tall, imposing, with a perfect hairstyle and a cold look in her blue gray eyes.

She looked Sophia over from head to toe in an evaluating glance and pressed her lips together almost imperceptibly.

So, this is your choice.

She addressed her son as if Sophia weren’t there.

Mom, this is Sophia. Sophia, this is my mother, Eleanor.

A pleasure to meet you.

Sophia smiled, extending her hand.

Her mother-in-law looked at the outstretched hand as if it were something unpleasant and barely touched it with her fingertips.

Throughout the evening, she interrogated Sophia like a prosecutor.

Who were her parents? What did they do? What was her education? How much did she earn? Did she own her own home?

The answers clearly did not satisfy Eleanor.

Sophia’s parents were simple people. Her father was an electrician, her mother a nurse. They lived in a small two-bedroom apartment in Queens, inherited from her grandmother.

I see, the mother-in-law said after another answer. And what are your plans for my son?

Mom, Alex protested.

What? I have a right to know what this girl’s intentions are.

Sophia didn’t know what to say then. She loved Alex. Wasn’t that enough?

But for Eleanor, love was too abstract a concept. She thought in terms of benefits, status, prospects.

After that meeting, the mother-in-law called Alex and for 2 hours tried to convince him to break off the relationship.

That girl is not for you. She’s a gold digger. You deserve someone from your own circle.

Alex didn’t listen to her. Back then, he was ready to do anything for their love.

They got married a year later despite all of Eleanor’s objections. At the wedding, the mother-in-law sat with a stone face and ostentatiously left right after the ceremony without staying for the reception.

“You’ve ruined my son’s life,” she whispered to Sophia before leaving. “He will never forgive you for this.”

3 years had passed since then. Eleanor hadn’t given up. She had just changed her tactics. Now, she didn’t make open scandals, but acted more subtly. She called Alex everyday, complained about her health, demanded attention. At every meeting, she found a way to humiliate Sophia. A comment about her hairstyle, her clothes, her cooking.

I’m surprised you haven’t poisoned your husband with your casserles yet, she said once at a family dinner.

Sophia remembered how her heart sank at those words, and how Alex remained silent, pretending not to have heard.

Dawn came too quickly. Nausea hit her with the first rays of sun, stronger than usual.

Sophia barely made it to the bathroom. She vomited so much that her vision blurred, and when it was over, she collapsed strengthlessly onto the cold tiled floor.

What was happening to her? Why couldn’t the doctors find anything?

The pendant was cool against her skin, as if reminding her of its presence.

Suddenly, Sophia felt an irresistible urge to rip it off, to throw it away, to get rid of it forever.

But it was a gift from her husband, the only piece of jewelry he had ever chosen for her.

And yet, with trembling hands, she unfassened the clasp and left the pendant on the shelf above the sink.

Then, with an effort, she got up, washed her face, and went to the kitchen.

Alex had already left for work. He got up early to avoid the traffic jams.

On the table was a note.

Breakfast is in the fridge. Love you. Don’t forget about Sunday.

Sunday. The visit to her mother-in-law.

Sophia crumpled the note and threw it in the trash.

The day passed strangely. Without the pendant, she felt better. The nausea didn’t disappear completely, but it became less intense. At lunchtime, Sophia was even able to eat normally for the first time in weeks.

“You look better today,” Lucy noted during a break. “Seriously, you have some color. You look like a person again.”

Sophia was lost in thought. Could the pendant really be connected to her condition? It sounded crazy.

But that evening, she took out the jeweler’s card and examined it for a long time.

Richard Sterling, jeweler and antiquarian. Appraisal, repair, expertise. The address indicated a small workshop in an old part of the city.

Should I go? She thought at least to find out what he meant. But at the last moment, she changed her mind. That old man probably just wanted to pull her leg, get some money out of her for an expensive appraisal or repair. There were so many scammers in the city.

She put the pendant back on and went to sleep.

The next morning began with such a severe attack of nausea that Sophia lost consciousness in the bathroom. She woke up on the cold, hard floor. Her head was spinning and she had a metallic taste in her mouth.

“What’s happening to me?” she whispered into the void.

Barely getting up, she looked in the mirror and shuddered. The face of a seriously ill person stared back at her gray gaunt with a bluish tint under her eyes. She had never felt so bad.

Her hands went on their own to the pendant’s clasp. She took it off and left it on the shelf just like the day before, and as if by magic, she felt the pressure in her stomach ease slightly.

That day, she didn’t go to work. She called in sick. She spent the whole day at home without the pendant. And by evening, she felt almost normal. She had dinner, watched a movie, even took a short walk in the courtyard, and before bed, she put the jewelry back on, afraid that Alex would notice its absence and get upset.

The morning greeted her with another attack.

Now there was no doubt. Two days without the pendant, relative relief. Two days with the pendant, a horrible state.

“It couldn’t be a coincidence. I’m going crazy,” Sophia told herself.

But her hands were already dialing the number from the business card.

Richard answered on the third ring.

Sterling.

Hello. We met on the subway a few days ago. You told me about my pendant.

A pause. Then a voice filled with relief.

You finally called. Thank God. I was afraid I hadn’t made it in time.

Hadn’t made it in time. For what?

To save you, my dear girl. To save you.

Richard Sterling’s workshop was in an old building near downtown with high ceilings, narrow windows, and creaky wooden floors. The sign above the entrance read, “Jewelry workshop, appraisal, repair, expertise.” Since 1978.

Sophia pushed the heavy door and found herself in a small room filled with glass display cases. Behind the counter, bent over a magnifying glass, sat the same man from the subway.

“Come in,” he said without looking up. Did you bring the pendant?

Yes.

Sophia took the jewelry out of her pocket and placed it on the counter.

Richard Sterling set aside his work and carefully examined the pendant without touching it. Then he put on thin gloves and took the jewelry in his hands.

I didn’t introduce myself properly. Richard Sterling. Before retiring, I worked as a forensic expert in the major crimes unit specializing in poisoning and toxicology. For the last 15 years, I’ve been in the jewelry business, a hobby that became a profession, so to speak, a forensic expert.

Sophia felt her hands go cold, precisely.

And when I saw your pendant on the subway, I knew right away that something was wrong. You see, I’ve worked with poisonings for too many years not to recognize the characteristic symptoms. The color of your face, the dark circles, the general exhaustion, a classic picture of chronic intoxication.

But the doctors didn’t find anything because they weren’t looking in the right place. They were analyzing your body when what needed to be analyzed was your environment.

He turned the pendant on its side.

Do you see this line? It’s not decorative. It’s a hidden mechanism.

Richard took a thin tool resembling a dental probe from a drawer and carefully inserted it into the barely visible slit on the side of the pendant.

There was a soft click and the pendant opened into two halves.

Sophia stifled a cry.

Inside, in a special hollow, lay a tiny capsule, no bigger than a grain of rice. It was semi-transparent with a dark substance inside.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“This, my dear friend, is the explanation for your illness. A micro capsule with a substance that is released upon contact with human body heat. You wear the pendant on your chest, the warmest place. The capsule heats up. its walls become permeable and the poison slowly but surely enters your system through the skin.”

Sophia felt like she was going to faint.

Richard quickly sat her down in a chair and gave her a glass of water.

Breathe. Take a deep breath.

Who? Who did this?

I don’t know that, but I can tell you for sure that this is not a manufacturing defect or an accident. Someone intentionally modified this piece of jewelry to harm you, but it’s a gift from my husband. He couldn’t have.

The jeweler held up a hand.

I’m not saying your husband did it. It’s possible he doesn’t even suspect its contents, but someone someone with access to this pendant turned it into a murder weapon.

Murder.

Sophia could barely speak.

Not immediately, of course. Slow poisoning is always a long-term game. They would have attributed it to some disease, maybe even cancer. The doctors would have found organ malfunction, but never the cause. The perfect crime.

Sophia covered her face with her hands. She couldn’t process it. Who could want her dead? And most importantly, why?

We need to run a test, Richard continued. Determine what exactly is in this capsule and find who put it there. It’s too soon for the police. We don’t have proof of a crime, only a suspicion. First, the analysis, then we decide how to proceed.

Sophia nodded. Her head was spinning.

Do you have someone you trust? friends, family.

My friend Lucy is a nurse.

Good. We might need her help. And for now, not a word to your husband. I understand it’s difficult. But until we know who is behind this, we can’t take any risks.

Leaving the workshop, Sophia felt as if the world around her had collapsed and been rebuilt, but in a distorted, nightmarish way.

The husband she loved had given her a poisoned pendant. The mother-in-law who hated her. Could it be possible?

No. It was too much. It was impossible.

But the capsule with poison was very real and someone had put it there.

She spent the whole evening as if in a days. She made dinner, talked to Alex about his work, watched TV, but she did everything mechanically like an automaton.

Only one thought was spinning in her head.

You’re a little off today. Alex noted before they went to sleep.

I’m just tired. Are you still not feeling well?

A little.

She swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat.

Alex, where did you buy my pendant?

He looked at her, surprised.

At a jewelry store on Madison Avenue. Why?

Just curious.

Did you pick it out yourself?

Well, yes. I mean, mom helped me choose it. She knows a lot about jewelry.

Sophia felt as if icy fingers were squeezing her heart.

Your mother?

Yes. I showed her several options and she said this one was the most beautiful.

Why do you ask?

No reason, just wanted to know.

She turned to the wall so her husband wouldn’t see her face.

Eleanor had helped choose the pendant.

Eleanor, who from the very first day had dreamed of getting rid of her, but to suspect her mother-in-law of attempted murder was madness. It was the delirium of a paranoid woman.

And yet, you’ve ruined my son’s life. He will never forgive you for this.

The word she said at the wedding came back to her with terrifying clarity. Back then, Sophia had taken them as the simple malice of an offended mother.

But what if there was something more behind them?

Now many years later, Sophia sometimes takes out an old photo, the one of her and Alex on their wedding day. Young, happy, not knowing what awaited them.

If you had known then, she says to her,