Chapter 3 The Ring

Dakota caught up with me downstairs and grabbed my wrist. "The ring isn't what you think."

I tried to pull free, but she held on.

"Harrison's birthday is next month. He wants to buy a men's ring, and I was just helping him pick one."

"Doesn't he have any other friends?"

"Callum, he just got out of a bad relationship. He needs me now."

"You've let him depend on you for four years?"

Dakota's fingers tightened around my wrist. "We've known each other for years. Naturally, we're closer than ordinary friends."

"I've known him for years too." I looked at her. "He's my buddy, and you're my wife. So, tell me, why are you two closer friends instead?"

Dakota was silent for a moment.

"You're my husband. He's just a friend. It's different."

She said it as though that settled everything.

As though being my wife was enough to make up for every difference in the way she treated us.

I glanced at her. "When we got married, I wanted to buy rings too."

She remembered, and her expression darkened.

…

Back then, I picked out a simple pair of bands.

They weren't expensive, just a little over $6,000 for the pair.

Dakota said wedding rings were a consumerist trap and took me to a jewelry store, where we bought two rings for $99.

Later, she lost hers.

I asked her three times about replacing it, and every time, she said there was no need.

…

"You already have a wedding ring."

"Harrison isn't married. Why does he need you to help him pick one?"

"He likes it. What's the problem?"

Suddenly, I didn't have the energy to keep asking.

When we got home, Dakota didn't mention the ring again.

Over the next few days, she continued leaving early and coming home late, as if what had happened that day had simply been another one of my needless suspicions.

Before long, our wedding anniversary arrived.

That morning, before we left, I asked if she could come home for dinner that night. She glanced at her phone and casually agreed. "Sure."

It was the first time in days she hadn't turned me down.

I bought groceries and ordered a small cake for two.

Dakota did come home on time that evening, but she didn't even glance at the dining table. Instead, she pulled several cardboard boxes out of the storage room and started clearing out the living room. "There's too much stuff in here. We need to get rid of some of it."

She put the matching mugs I'd bought, the model kits we'd built together, and one thing after another into the boxes.

Finally, she took our wedding photo off the wall.

I stopped her. "You're throwing that away too? It's the only framed photo we have together."

"We can keep the digital copy."

She dropped the frame into the box. The glass hit the bottom, and a thin crack appeared across it.

I crouched down to pick it up, but she reached out and stopped my hand. "Don't. You'll cut yourself."

That small gesture made me hesitate.

Maybe she wasn't as indifferent as I'd thought. Maybe she just had a different way of showing it.

The next second, she picked up the scrapbook I'd spent four years putting together. "This doesn't need to stay either."

I immediately grabbed the other end. "Don't throw it away. It's full of our memories."

Dakota looked at me and finally let go. "Then, keep it somewhere safe. Just don't leave it out."

The moment she finished speaking, her phone chimed.

When the screen lit up, I saw a photo from Harrison. He was standing in a jewelry store, wearing a diamond ring. "I don't want to place the order without you."

Dakota picked up her car keys.

"You said you'd have dinner with me tonight."

"Can't we have dinner some other day?"

"Today is our wedding anniversary."

She glanced at the wedding photo inside the box. "Didn't we agree not to celebrate anniversaries?"

"You were the one who said that."

"You never objected all these years."

"What if I object now?"

Dakota stopped by the door.

I forced down the tremor in my hands and laid out the last bit of hope I had. "Dakota, stay. Just for tonight."

She looked at me for a few seconds before opening the door. "Don't force me to choose like this. Harrison's alone at the store, and the sales associate is waiting for him. I'll go pay the deposit and come right back."

The door closed behind her.

I sat at the dining table for a long time.

…

Two hours later, Harrison sent me a message. "Callum, Dakota's had too much to drink. Bring her pajamas over, will you?"

A hotel room number was attached.

I didn't bring her pajamas. I only took the scrapbook that had almost been thrown away and went to the hotel.

The door wasn't fully closed. I had just raised my hand when I heard Harrison laugh.

"I only said I didn't like the wedding photo, and you actually threw it away? Aren't you afraid he'll make a scene?"

Dakota's voice came through the crack in the door. "Make a scene about what? He can't leave me."

Then came the soft click of a ring box opening.