Stephen Curry reveals Ayesha’s ring was chosen with his grandmother’s help… but Ayesha never knew

.
.
.
play video:

It was a cool autumn evening in Charlotte, North Carolina, in 2010. The sun dipped behind the distant Blue Ridge Mountains, casting long shadows over the modest suburban neighborhood where Stephen Curry’s grandmother, Lucille, lived. Her small, well-kept home, with white wooden siding and a front porch that creaked when stepped on, had always been a sanctuary for Stephen. No cameras, no fans—just the comfort of family, the scent of old cookbooks, and the quiet wisdom of a woman who had seen nearly nine decades of life.

Stephen had always been close to his grandmother, the matriarch who had helped raise his father and influenced generations of the Curry family. But this visit was different. That day, Stephen’s hands were restless, fidgeting with the worn hem of his sweatshirt as he sat across from Lucille in her cozy kitchen. The faint aroma of baked apple pie mixed with the soft ticking of the wall clock, creating a scene that felt suspended in time.

Lucille, sharp as ever despite her age, noticed immediately. “Boy, you’re quieter than usual,” she said, her voice rich with a southern warmth, sliding a cup of sweet tea across the table to him.

Stephen chuckled nervously and took a sip, savoring the familiar taste before finally exhaling. “Grandma, I need your advice.”

Lucille leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing affectionately. “Must be serious, then.”

He nodded, pausing before choosing his words carefully. “I’m going to propose to Ayesha.”

For a moment, silence filled the kitchen, save for the hum of the refrigerator. Then Lucille’s face broke into a wide smile, her eyes glistening. “Stephen, that’s wonderful.”

Stephen smiled too, his dimples showing, but his fingers drummed against the table. “I want everything to be perfect—especially the ring,” he said, his voice softening, almost as if he were confessing a secret he hadn’t yet fully admitted to himself. “And I don’t know the first thing about picking one.”

Lucille chuckled quietly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “You’re asking the right person, honey.”

Stephen relaxed slightly. He knew that Lucille had a deep love for jewelry, especially pieces that told a story. Over the years, he had often caught glimpses of her admiring the simple yet elegant wedding ring she had worn for over 60 years—an heirloom passed down from her own mother.

“I want it to be timeless, like yours,” Stephen said, glancing at her ring. “Something that means more than just a pretty stone.”

Lucille’s eyes softened, and for a moment, she seemed transported back through decades of her own love story. Then she smiled knowingly. “Tell me about Ayesha. What kind of woman is she to you?”

Stephen inhaled deeply, the corners of his mouth lifting unconsciously. “She’s real. She keeps me grounded. She doesn’t care about all the basketball stuff. She loves to cook, to take care of people. She’s strong but gentle, and she makes me feel like I can be myself, no matter what.”

Lucille nodded slowly, listening intently, her fingers tracing circles on the table’s smooth surface. “Sounds like you’re describing a woman who deserves something simple, elegant, and full of heart.”

Stephen smiled. “Exactly.”

Lucille stood up slowly, moving to a small chest of drawers near the back of the kitchen. From it, she pulled out a faded leather jewelry box and set it gently on the table between them. Opening it revealed a collection of vintage rings and pendants, each with its own story. Each worn but gleaming with a quiet dignity.

“These belong to the women in our family,” Lucille said softly. “I want you to look at them. Maybe you’ll see something—a detail, a shape, a setting—that feels right.”

Stephen leaned in, his eyes scanning the rings. There were thin bands with delicate filigree, small stones set in modest yet intricate designs, and a few with unique flourishes that made them stand out. One in particular caught his eye—a slender gold band with a round solitaire diamond framed by tiny accent stones that shimmered subtly in the kitchen light.

“This one,” Stephen said instinctively, his fingers hovering over it.

Lucille smiled gently. “That was my mother’s engagement ring.”

Stephen froze, not sure if he should even be touching it. But Lucille placed her hand over his, encouraging him. “It’s not for you to take,” she reassured. “But maybe it can inspire you.”

Stephen nodded, studying the proportions—the classic round diamond, the simplicity of the band. He could picture Ayesha wearing something similar: elegant, understated, and filled with meaning.

Lucille could see the clarity forming in his eyes. “I think you know what you want now.”

Stephen smiled, gripping his grandmother’s hand. “Thank you, Grandma. I knew you’d help me figure it out.”

They sat there for a while longer, talking about life, love, and the importance of choosing with your heart, not your wallet. The sky outside deepened into twilight, casting a soft blue hue through the kitchen windows. Before leaving, Stephen hugged his grandmother tightly, inhaling her familiar scent of lavender and old paper. As he walked out onto the porch, the wooden planks creaking under his feet, he looked up at the night sky, stars just beginning to pierce the darkening canvas. In his pocket was the mental image of the perfect ring—a design that would soon be made real, but with a hidden layer of meaning that only he and Lucille would share.

Back in the Bay Area, Stephen carried the weight of his decision with every passing day. The season was in full swing, with practices, games, and media obligations filling up his calendar. But behind every fast break and three-pointer, there was a quieter mission taking shape: creating the engagement ring that would define the next chapter of his life.

Late at night, when the house was silent and the city’s lights flickered faintly beyond the hills of Oakland, Stephen would sit in the dim glow of his laptop, scrolling through pages of jewelers, settings, and stones. His mind kept returning to that slender gold band from his grandmother’s collection—the simple elegance, the understated beauty, and above all, the history embedded in it.

Eventually, Stephen found a boutique jeweler in San Francisco who specialized in bespoke pieces. Her name was Marlene, and she listened intently as Stephen explained his vision.

“I want it simple,” Stephen said, leaning forward, elbows resting on the desk. “Classic, but meaningful.”

Marlene smiled knowingly. “And this inspiration piece—it belonged to your grandmother?”

Stephen nodded. “Yeah. I’m not asking to replicate it, but I want to capture the same feel—something timeless, nothing trendy.”

Marlene sketched a draft: a slender gold band much like Lucille’s, but with modern touches—a slightly raised setting, a solitaire round diamond flanked by two small, discreet accent stones representing balance and partnership.

Stephen studied it quietly, then looked up. “That’s it.”

The ring was completed weeks later, and when Stephen finally proposed to Ayesha during a quiet picnic at their favorite spot in Tilden Regional Park, she said yes. She marveled at the ring’s simplicity and elegance, unaware of the deeper story behind it.

Years passed, and the ring became a subtle constant in their lives—a reminder of their bond. It wasn’t until over a decade later, during a documentary interview, that Stephen finally revealed the truth about the ring’s origin. Ayesha, watching the segment at home, was moved to tears.

“That’s beautiful,” she whispered when Stephen returned home that evening. “I wish I’d known.”

Stephen smiled, pulling her into an embrace. “I wanted it to be ours—but also hers. Grandma’s.”

From that day forward, the story of the ring became a cherished thread in their shared narrative—a testament to the quiet, powerful bonds that shape love in unseen ways.