But in my chest? That “yes” started to feel more like a maybe.
And now I’m sitting here, looking at the receipt still folded in my wallet, wondering if this is the kind of start I want to build a life on.
The next morning, I woke up to find Marina in the kitchen, scrolling through an online catalog of rings. She looked up with bright eyes. “I found a few I think are more… me,” she said. There was a hint of nervousness in her voice, like she knew how much this was eating me up inside but didn’t know how to fix it.
I forced a smile and joined her at the table. The rings she pointed out were vastly different from the one I’d chosen—emerald-cut stones, vintage designs, even colored gemstones. One had a small sapphire in the middle, surrounded by tiny diamonds. “I can see why you like it,” I said, though I barely recognized my own voice. “It’s unique.”
Marina opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. Instead, she squeezed my hand and said, “I just don’t want to walk around with a ring that doesn’t feel like me. I don’t want us to start our forever with me pretending.”
