The screen glowed with dim, romantic light. Ross had his arm around Zamora’s waist, lowering his head to kiss her deeply.
He lifted a champagne glass, smiling with that familiar tenderness and confidence.
And I saw it clearly—oon his finger was the ring I had saved for months to buy for him.
At that point, my eyes blurred. The image before me started to fade.
I still remembered the day I gave him that ring. His eyes had gone red as he knelt on one knee and swore, “One day, I’ll buy you one even better, even more expensive.”
But now, that “better and more expensive” ring was gleaming on another woman’s finger.
In the background of the video, their friends’ laughter echoed.
“After eight years, you two finally made it official!”
“Ross’s so devoted! Can you believe he waited eight years for Zamora?”
“That diamond ring? He had it custom-made eight years ago!”
My fingers started to shake. I had to look away and breathe between glances, or my tears would spill over completely.
Eight years…
For eight years, not a single one of his friends knew who I was.
But they all knew Zamora.
I had asked him before why he never took me to meet his friends.