Seeing my silence, he grew irritated and drew a ring from his pocket. The diamond was rare, a natural pink, but I felt no thrill.
“I never forgot our anniversary; I wanted to surprise you! Stop sulking like that; you look worse than when you cry,” he said.
I met his gaze with a cold stare. That ring wasn’t chosen for me; I’d seen it before. Gaia had posted not long ago: [My boyfriend is so clueless, thinking I’d actually love a giant pink ring. He doesn’t know me.]
The ring he held now was unmistakable, the faint scratch on its surface was proof enough.
To him, I was nothing more than a backup, deserving only of Gaia’s castoffs.
With a scowl, he pressed the ring into my palm, irritation flickering in his gaze. “Zelia, I’m offering you a chance. Please don’t make me regret it.”
I was about to turn him down when a playful ringtone shattered the moment.
His expression turned guilty for a moment, yet he answered the call without hesitation.
A syrupy voice trembled through the phone, nearly breaking into tears.
Concern filled Caesar’s eyes as he turned to leave in a hurry, inadvertently knocking over the cake.
The candle’s flame brushed against the back of my hand, searing my skin.