Ezekiel swallowed.
When it came time for him, his voice caught, like his own throat was trying to protect him from what he was about to become.
“I do,” he managed, the words dragging behind him like chains.
The ring Ezekiel had borrowed was too small for Adelaide’s finger. Everyone saw it. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the humiliation to bloom.
But Adelaide simply forced it on anyway, jaw set, as if pain were a language she’d been speaking all her life.
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