For the first time, I understood that Thomas had not simply forgotten me. He had made a decision, then spent decades protecting that decision from the truth.
He had built a family. He had experienced ordinary happiness. He had watched time pass.
Meanwhile, I had carried a question with no answer.
“Did you ever love me?” I asked.
Thomas looked up immediately.
“Yes. I loved you more than I knew how to explain.”
“Then you should have trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”
He had no answer.
After a while, he opened a small drawer beside his bed and took out a worn velvet box.
“I kept something for you.”
My heart began to pound.
He opened the box.
Inside lay a simple gold engagement ring.
It was not the grand ring he had promised me. It was small, old-fashioned, and slightly tarnished.
But I recognized it immediately.
