The Stranger I Married

Chapter 15: The Rings

They passed a small jewellery shop tucked between a bookstore and a café. Alex stopped.

Eve took another step before realizing he wasn't beside her. She turned.

"What?"

He was looking through the window. Then at her. "We need rings."

She looked down at the ring on his finger—her grandmother's ring, still lodged over his knuckle—and laughed. "Yes. We do."

He held the door open for her.

A small bell sounded as they stepped inside. The shop was intimate—glass cases lining the walls, soft lighting. A woman behind the counter looked up and smiled.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

"Yes," Alex said. "We need wedding rings."

The woman's smile widened. "Congratulations. When's the big day?"

Eve felt the laugh rise before she could stop it. "Yesterday."

The woman blinked. "Yesterday?"

Alex was smiling too. "We didn't have a chance to buy proper rings."

"Oh." The woman laughed. "Well, then let's find you something proper."

She stepped out from behind the counter and gestured toward the cases. "These are all one-of-a-kind pieces. The owner designs and makes every ring himself."

Eve moved slowly along the display. Her eyes moved across the bands of gold and silver, rings set with stones, rings that were simple and rings that were intricate. She glanced at Alex as he scanned the cases opposite her.

The serious concentration on his face made her smile. He was studying each ring like it was a business decision—weighing options, considering details, taking it seriously in a way that made her chest ache.

Then he glanced up and caught her looking.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then his expression softened. The concentration didn't disappear—it just changed. Became something warmer.

He looked at her like she was something precious. Something he was still figuring out how to hold.

Eve felt heat rise to her cheeks and looked away quickly, returning her attention to the case.

Her eyes moved across the rings until they settled on one—a band of warm gold, finely engraved with a pattern that looked like branches interwoven, reaching toward each other, meeting in the middle.

"Alex," she said softly.

He was beside her in an instant. "What is it?"

She pointed. "This one."

He leaned closer, studying the ring through the glass. His expression shifted—a quiet appreciation that made her stomach flip.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

He looked at her. "I love it."

"Really?"

"Really." He turned to the woman. "May we see it?"

The woman lifted it from the case and placed it in Eve's palm. The gold was warm, the engraved branches catching the light.

Eve looked at Alex's hand—the one still wearing her grandmother's ring, lodged stubbornly over his first knuckle. She reached for it.

"Give me your hand."

He held it out. She took hold of the ring and pulled gently.

It didn't budge.

She pulled again, harder. Nothing.

"It's stuck," she said.

"I know."

"You said you weren't going to force it."

"I didn't force it. You forced it."

"I did not force it." She gave another tug. The ring didn't move. "You pushed it on."

"You handed it to me."

"Because you needed a ring."

"And you gave me one that was too small."

"It was the only one I had."

She pulled again, harder. The ring didn't move. She let out a frustrated breath.

"It's really stuck."

The woman behind the counter had been watching with an amused smile. "Would you like some help?"

Eve looked up, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be." The woman was already moving toward a small sink in the back. "This happens more often than you'd think. Soap and warm water usually does the trick."

She returned a moment later with a small bowl of soapy water and a soft cloth. Eve dipped Alex's finger in, careful not to get it on his sleeve.

"Now try," the woman said.

Eve pulled again. The ring moved—slowly, reluctantly—over his knuckle, until it finally slid free with a soft pop.

She let out a breath of relief. "Finally."

"Thank you," Alex said to the woman. "I think we would have been here all day."

The woman laughed. "I told you—it happens more often than you'd think. You'd be surprised how many people come in wearing rings that don't quite fit."

Eve held the ring in her palm for a moment—her grandmother's ring, warm from the soapy water, still carrying the memory of the past day. She looked at it, then at Alex.

Then she slipped it back onto her own right ring finger—where it had always belonged.

It slid into place like it had never left.

She looked up at him, a soft smile on her face.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For letting me marry you with this."

Alex's expression shifted—something softening, something deepening. He lifted her right hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, right above the ring.

"Thank you for trusting me with it."

Eve felt the warmth of his lips linger on her skin. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then released his hand and turned back to the case.

"Now your turn," she said.

She reached for the new ring—the one she'd chosen for him—and took his left hand. She slipped it onto his finger.

It fit perfectly.

"Perfect," she said softly.

He looked down at it, then at her. "It's beautiful, Eve."

"You like it?"

"I love it." He turned his hand, watching the light catch the interwoven branches. "I'll wear it always."

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "Good."

Then he turned back to the cases. "Now you."

His gaze moved across the rings with that same careful attention. She watched him study each one—considering, dismissing, returning.

Then he stopped.

She followed his gaze to a broader gold band set with a diamond, small rubies flanking it like embers.

"This one," he said quietly.

The woman lifted it from the case and placed it in his palm. Alex turned it over, then looked at Eve.

"May I?"

She held out her left hand.

He took it gently, his thumb brushing across her knuckles. Then he slipped the ring onto her finger.

It fit perfectly. The diamond caught the light, the rubies glowing like embers.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

He didn't answer. His thumb traced the ring on her finger, slow and deliberate.

"This one," he said quietly, "we chose together. It's ours."

Eve's throat tightened.

"Every time you look at it," he continued, "I want you to remember that someone chose you. For you. Not for what you could give them."

Her eyes burned. "Alex—"

Before she could finish, he reached for her—his hands finding her waist, pulling her toward him. She stepped into him without thinking, her hands coming up to rest against his chest.

His hand came up, tilting her chin toward him.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't a quick, polite kiss. It was slow, thorough, claiming—the kind of kiss that said something she couldn't put into words.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"For what?"

He smiled. "For choosing this. For choosing me."

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, the steadiness of his hands on her waist.

"I didn't choose you," she whispered.

He blinked.

She smiled. "I chose us."

His expression shifted—something softening, something deepening. Then he kissed her again, softer this time, like he was trying to memorize her.

The woman behind the counter cleared her throat gently.

"I hate to interrupt—" She was smiling. "But do you need boxes for the rings?"

Alex pulled back, but didn't let go of Eve. "No. We'll wear them."

Eve laughed softly against his chest. "We'll wear them."

The woman nodded, still smiling. "I thought you might."