Beautifully Broken Rings Novels & Stories

I breathe as he lifts my left hand and gently places his gift on my ring finger. “I wish these were proper mating bands,” he muses. "I will make us new once as soon as I can." Taking the other ring from him, I mirror his actions and he watches me cautiously, as if this might be a dream and he is afraid he might wake up. “I don’t,” I reply. “I don't need the bands to be different. I think these are more significant because they are not perfect. They are a part of our experiences, unique because they have been broken and mended.” I look up at him. "Much like we have grown together, perfectly imperfect."

Everything goes blurs, blackness engulfs me. Roman's screams echoes " Rose...no!" Next silence, then nothing but darkness forever. ############

He was only left with one more step. Monica dropped the glass of champagne gently on the glass table in front of her, stealing a glance at Sly, whose face was still buried in the magazine. As soon as Marina returned with the rings, Monica realized her mistake. The rings were perfectly crafted with gold platinum and red diamond. Even Sly's was lined with red diamonds. The three rings were a matching piece. One that was carefully designed for a loving couple.

“I can take care of him myself. Thank you so much.” “What… what do you want? I will give you anything. Anything you ask for,” pleaded Vittore. “I want Auction Ring,” said Renata/Afanasiia. “Yes, yes, I will give you an auction ring. I will make you, so money from the auction ring that you won’t be able to count. You can sleep on money, eat on money, walk on money. I will give you the auction ring, anything,” Vittore didn’t waste any time and promised her the auction ring.

Only one messaged from him and all my worries would be gone. “I hope he won’t get mad.” I whispered while staring the table out from the garden. Until now I couldn’t believe that our house was still the same. I thought Demir would let Laura lived here and changed everything. As I was about to stand the frame suddenly fell on the ground. My heart skipped in surprise to hear the loud bang and the broken pieces of glasses scattered on the ground. I was about to pick one of the broken glasses but it pinned on my fingers and so as my phone suddenly vibrated.

Tears already pricked at Aria's eyes. "You've taught me that strength isn't about never falling down. It's about getting back up. You've shown me that love isn't about fate or destiny, it's about choice. Every single day, I choose you. Your courage, your kindness, your fierce heart. I choose all of it." Dante lowered himself to one knee, and Aria's hands flew to her mouth. From his pocket, he pulled out a ring. Not traditional gold, but a silver band with a moonstone that seemed to glow in the fading light.

The velvet box lay open on the table between them, a small, dark universe holding a single, captured star. The black sapphire seemed to absorb the flickering candlelight, holding it deep within its facets before letting it glimmer back out, a secret whispered in light. The two bands—brushed platinum and matte tungsten—twisted around each other in an eternal, unresolvable knot. It was a ring of shadows and resilience, of intertwined fates. It was, Anton thought, her soul given form in metal and stone.

He pulled a small, blood-soaked velvet box from his pocket and handed it to me. "What you wanted." I opened the box. Inside lay the moonstone pendant. It had been reset with gold filigree by the best artisan in the world. All the cracks had been filled, making it even more brilliant, yet it would forever bear the marks of being broken. "I broke it," he whispered, his voice raspy. "So I pieced it back together. With my own hands." "I understand now. Some things, once they're shattered, they're shattered forever. You can piece them together, but they'll never be whole again. Just a beautiful, broken thing."

Not believing what is happening, I sip my juice and look at the four rings that are on the table in front of us. When the Lord returns and opens the display Oliver automatically takes out a pair of rings. “I liked these.” He says taking a pair of gold rings, part of the ring is matte and the feminine one has a detail in diamond stones. "Are beautiful," I say looking at the rings. “Did you like it? It will never leave your finger again.” Oliver says and I feel the butterflies in my stomach. “I liked them, they're a little thick, I think, I mean, my hand is small and so are my fingers...” I say looking at the rings.

I remember fighting him, remember the taste of something bitter at the back of my throat, remember heat spreading through my body while his voice kept saying my name as if that made any of it mercy. By the time the room went dark, I understood only one thing clearly: he would rather break me than lose control of me. When I woke the next morning, the room was gray with early light. My clothes were scattered across the floor. My mouth tasted metallic. My body hurt in ways I did not want to name. There was a ring on my left hand. A diamond, cold and flawless, catching the first light like a threat. I pulled it off and threw it into the wastebasket.