Funeral for Our Love

By the time Michael Collins came home, it was already deep into the night.

He didn't say a word. He just took off his shirt, and when he turned, the scratches across his back were revealed.

I stood there, stunned, unable to speak.

He was the one who broke the silence. "Natalie was a virgin. Of course, she reacted strongly."

My hands curled into fists. I tried to stay composed, but the question slipped out anyway. "Did you use protection?"

He shook his head, completely unbothered. "She took medication beforehand. You're worrying over nothing."

At those words, my heart, which had been wound tight with anxiety, sank.

Just then, his phone rang.

It was Natalie Sweeney calling. Her voice came through the speaker, shaky and tearful. "Mike, I'm bleeding a lot all of a sudden. I'm really scared."

He panicked and quickly tried to calm her, "Don't be afraid. I'm coming over right now. I'll be there in ten minutes!"

Despite feeling utterly disheartened, I still reached out to stop him. I wanted to tell him the truth about Natalie's condition.

Instead, he shook me off with visible irritation.

"I told you already. I only did this to help Natalie. If there were really something going on between us, do you honestly think I would've let you find out?"

He shot me a glare, pulled on his clothes, and headed straight for the door.

Just before leaving, he turned back and said, "Wash my clothes and underwear. I got blood on them. If you leave it sitting, it won't come out."

The door slammed shut with a thud.

After Michael left, I stared at the wedding photo on the wall in a daze.

Over the years, I had built everything with him from the ground up. We'd moved from a cramped rental apartment barely big enough to turn around in to a luxury apartment in the heart of the city.

Every hardship we'd endured along the way was still vivid in my memory.

By most standards, Michael counted as a decent husband. When he made his first real money, the first thing he did was make up for the wedding we never had.

He even had a ring custom-made. The diamond wasn't large, and there was a faint crack running through it. Even so, I treated it like a treasure.

Michael was the perfect husband in the eyes of our family and friends. And yet, he'd be the one to do the very thing that broke me.

After a high-risk encounter without protection, the infection rate was practically guaranteed.

I was angry, but in the end, I couldn't be cruel.

He still had 72 hours. As long as he started post-exposure medication in time, the infection risk could still be controlled.

Natalie had just posted on social media. The caption read, "I heard marriage was meant to tame a man, but it looks like someone clearly didn't get the memo."

The photo showed her shoulder and neck covered in bite marks. It looked like she was complaining, but it was really a show of how passionate her encounter with Michael had been.

What caught my eye, though, wasn't the marks. It was the ring on her finger. The design was almost identical to mine, only hers had a larger, fuller diamond.

My heart lurched.

I flipped my own ring over, found the serial number engraved inside, and called the brand's customer service line.

After checking, the representative answered politely, "Mr. Collins did place an order for a diamond ring with us. However, the first version had a defect, so we later remade the ring."

She paused before adding, "Ms. Sweeney, we're very sorry for the inconvenience. Is there anything else you're dissatisfied with?"