Even though I had already accepted that her love was never truly mine, a dull pressure still tightened in my chest. It was an old wound, but seeing that ring brought the ache back as if it had never left.
I remembered the day I once tried it on.
The ring had barely slid onto my finger before Margaux’s eyes locked onto me, her face twisted in outrage. She stormed over, grabbed my wrist like she’d just caught me cheating, her grip so tight her hand shook.
“Take it off. Now,” Margaux snapped.
Startled, I fumbled to pull it off and placed it carefully back in the safe.
My voice came out defensive and confused. “I was just trying it on. That’s all.”
Her expression didn’t soften at all. In fact, it got colder. “Haven’t I told you not to touch my things? Try it again, and don’t blame me when I lose it.”
After that day, the safe’s password and the lock on her office door were changed. Back then, I couldn’t understand it. It was just a ring, right? We were married. Why couldn’t I wear it, even for a second?
But I get it now.
That ring was never mine. It had always been meant for someone else.
It had been waiting for him. For Archie.
That ring wasn’t a symbol of our marriage. It was her promise to him.