His voice was quiet, and his fingers moved nervously against the edge of the table.
“She wasn’t wearing it every day anymore. It had belonged to her for decades, and she kept it in a small velvet box inside her bedroom drawer.”
I listened without interrupting.
“About a year before she passed away, she called me into her room and showed it to me. She told me that one day, when I found the woman I wanted to marry, I could give her the ring.”
He paused, looking toward the window.
“She said she wanted something of hers to become part of the next chapter of our family. She wanted the person I married to know that she had a place in our lives, even though she might not be there to meet her.”
My eyes softened despite myself.
I had known that Daniel’s mother had died five years earlier, but he rarely spoke about her in detail. Her death had affected him deeply, and I had learned not to push him when memories became painful.
