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“Please.”
A soft whispered plea.
He licks his lips, nervous, scared of her reaction. He shakes his head, unable to give her an answer least his voice break and betray him.
She does not respond, choosing instead to be silent. So silent it frightens him.
He cannot. He will not. He knows he must.
“I love you.”
Her words still him. Time, this moment has frozen. Frozen...
“No matter what you look like. I don’t care.”
Like an itch, he desires nothing more than to turn around. He forces himself not to.
Receiving no reaction from him, she sighs.
Silence.
A moment later she gets off the bed and walks past him to the dresser. The creak of something being opened. A second later it is closed.
Slowly, she turns around. One hand is tightly clutched, closely held to her, to her heart.
She treads towards him carefully, as if the floor beneath her was none other than thin ice and one wrong step, even one too quickly placed, would send her plunging below. He watches her, like that of a curious child, wondering why she acts so cautiously. What is there to be afraid of besides him ? The floor is not thin and easily breakable, is it solid through.
Once before him, she pauses, uncertain of him? of her next move. But in time she opens up. Quite literally. She lowers her tightly clutched fist to him, slowly, and then opens it.
Upon its opening, he finds none other than a silver ring. He swallows, but it proves difficult as his throat has suddenly gone dry.
It is his mother’s ring.
“Wh-Where-” His voice cracks and then he cannot breathe.
She allows him a moment before answering, “Your brother gave it to me.” He feels his throat constrict. No, he will not. He refuses- absolutely refuses to even consider the idea of-
“He felt that your mother would have wanted me to have it.” He doesn’t have to look up at her to know she is wearing a fond yet sad smile. “Apparently... as custom goes, the mother gives her ring to her son’s betrothed.” She makes as if to move her hand. It is only than he realizes that he has been clutching her hand for dear life with both of his own. He lets go, only for her to take his right hand and slide the ring onto his ring finger. They both then take a moment to stare at the ring, now on his hand, before she speaks once again.
“It looks much better on you.”
At this, the choked sound of laughter leaves his lips. His expression is twisted and contorted in both humor and pain. Her humor perfectly timed, yet bittersweet. Just what he needed.