Chapter 5: The Ring I Tried to Cast Away
Despite my cold indifference, Kael remained calm. He walked slowly toward the bed, took a deep, steady breath, and then sat down. I immediately shifted to the side, trying to keep my distance, my heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest, my hands and feet icy, my breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps. Part of me wanted to run, yet my eyes stayed fixed on him, defying fear, defying reason.
My mind wavered between the desperate urge to reach for him and the instinct to flee. I regretted my coldness toward him, but I also feared the pain that the truth might bring. The “familiar-yet-strange” feeling of looking at Kael—his pale face, sunken eyes, and thin, haggard shoulders—felt both intimate and alien, suffocating and confusing me. Cold sweat clung to my forehead, my hands trembled, my toes curled tight, my heart constricted as if gripped in an invisible hand.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers sliding along the screen before stopping on a photo. He held it toward me, his voice deep and warm, yet gentle:
“Elysa… look at this. This was when I proposed to you, three months ago.”
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at it casually, trying to mask the surge of emotion. But my heart clenched with every glance at him, my pulse racing, my breaths shallow and rapid.
He swiped to the next photo: the moment we shared a passionate kiss after he successfully proposed. My breath grew heavy, my whole body froze. I remembered that kiss—his lips pressing against mine, warm and fervent, his breath tinged with the scent of the sea, his arms wrapped around my back, pulling me close. The sound of waves crashing, the wind tangling in my hair, the radiant smile on his face—it all felt so vivid, as if he were still standing right in front of me.
Kael looked at me, his voice deepening:
“Do you remember anything yet, Elysa?”
I recoiled further, my voice trembling:
“What if these photos are fake? How can I possibly trust you?”
He leaned closer, eyes never leaving mine, his hand brushing the ring on his wrist before moving to the ring on my hand:
“If you don’t believe me, look here. This is our engagement ring.”
He took my hand, placing my ring next to his, his fingers trembling but steady. I could feel the sincerity in his gesture, yet my heart resisted. It felt as though it would shatter, my pulse racing, my breath erratic, a tremor running from my fingertips down to my toes.
I feigned a sudden headache, pulling my hand away sharply, my voice sharper:
“Please… stop… my head hurts so much. I don’t remember anything… please… leave and take this ring with you.”
I placed the ring next to him, my hand shaking, my back pressed against the bed as if clinging to something to keep from collapsing.
Kael’s shoulders sagged slightly, his eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and understanding of my pain. He stood, picked up the ring, but instead of leaving, he placed it back on my hand, his voice soft:
“Keep it. When you remember, I’m sure you won’t want to take it off.”
Madness surged through me. I reached for the ring and flung it into the empty space of the room. The sound of it hitting the floor echoed like a breaking heart, each pulse trembling. My whole body shook, tears streaming uncontrollably, my chest constricted. I knew it would hurt him, but I had no other choice.
Kael stood still, inhaling deeply, eyes following the falling ring, then quietly picked it up and placed it back on the table. Taking another deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed the doorknob, as if to steady himself. His voice, low and gentle, spoke:
“Perhaps you need some rest. I’ll come back when you’re calmer.”
He left. As the door clicked shut, I watched his retreating figure, seeing tears glinting at the corners of his eyes. My own tears flowed freely, uncontrollable. I sank to the floor, hugging my knees, trembling, my heart still racing.
From inside, I could hear the soft sound of his footsteps across the floor, then the faint click of the door opening as he stepped into the hall. Those small sounds, combined with the afternoon light filtering through the curtains, eased my racing heart just a little.
I retrieved a photo from the bedside drawer—me and Kael, two years ago—looking at his radiant smile, the warmth, and closeness I still remembered clearly. Memories of peaceful moments, quiet afternoons, smiles, and promises… all seemed to hold me back, even as fear and pain urged me to push him away.
I laid my hand over the ring on the table, breathing heavily, feeling both fragile and resolute. No extravagance was needed—just a moment of quiet, where tears, longing, and fear intertwined, making my heart ache and yearn at once. I closed my eyes, whispering to myself:
“Please forgive me, Kael. Only if you truly leave can you avoid the pain of watching me slowly fade away.”
And in that moment, I felt Kael’s presence, not in touch, but in the entirety of his love and patience—like a melancholic melody playing in my heart, both painful and gentle, distant yet so near.
Outside, I heard Kael speaking to my parents. He bowed his head slightly, hands clenched in front of his chest, breathing deeply, each word emerging with a mixture of strain and certainty:
“Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, I think Elysa needs more time to recover. Perhaps we should postpone the wedding.”
My father frowned briefly, then nodded, his voice steady but calm:
“Alright, Kael. We trust you. Elysa’s health comes first.”
My mother smiled softly, her voice gentle:
“Yes, dear. We’ll wait until she’s ready.”
Kael exhaled softly, eyes reflecting both exhaustion and unwavering determination:
“Thank you… I’ll always be by her side, waiting for her to return.”
Inside the room, I listened, each word slipping into my heart, bringing a rare sense of peace amidst tears and pain. For the first time in hours, I felt a glimmer of hope—that despite silence and sorrow, love still existed, patiently waiting for us to come back together.
