I stared down at the ring again. The curves. The strange, vintage setting. The weight of it.
For the first time, I saw it differently.
It wasn’t just a ring. It was a piece of history. A promise passed through time. And he hadn’t chosen it for convenience. He’d chosen it because, to him, it was sacred.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I just needed to understand.”
He reached across the table, gently brushing my hand.
“You don’t have to love the ring,” he said. “You just have to love me.”
“I do,” I said, smiling softly. “And maybe… the ring’s growing on me.”
He laughed, that warm laugh I’d fallen for. And suddenly, the ring didn’t feel so foreign.
It felt like a beginning.
