Then I remembered the ring.
I turned toward Mark.
“What about the jewelry store?”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
“The ring.”
“Yes, the ring. I saw you put it on her finger.”
Mark gave a small, exhausted laugh.
“Because I asked her to try it on.”
I stared at him.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I was buying it for you.”
The room went completely silent.
I looked at him, waiting for him to explain.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box I had seen at the boutique.
My breath caught.
He opened it.
Inside was the diamond ring.
The same ring I had watched him place on Julia’s finger.
Only now, sitting in our living room beneath the ordinary light of the ceiling lamp, it looked different.
It wasn’t a symbol of betrayal.
It was a question I had wanted him to ask for years.
