The classroom was empty.

It was long past dusk, and the castle was quiet. You stood before his desk, your fingers trembling slightly as you lifted the ring off your finger.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t explain.

You simply placed it on the polished wood between you.

Tom did not move right away.

He remained seated in his high-backed chair behind the desk, but his gaze followed your every movement.

When he finally spoke, his voice was cold. “You misunderstand your position.”

He rose from the chair, taking deliberate steps towards you that echoed in the stillness.

“That ring,” he said, “wasn’t for sentiment.”

His fingers brushed over the band, turning it between his thumb and forefinger as he inspected it, treating it like a relic — or a weapon.

“It was a claim,” he continued. “You’re mine. You don’t remove it.”

He paused, still studying the ring as if it held the answer to a question he hadn’t yet decided to ask. Then, slowly, he looked up at you.

His eyes burned with something unreadable.

Maybe disappointment. Or maybe amusement.

He took one final step towards you, closing the gap between you. “Next time you take it off,” he said, too softly, “I’ll make sure you won’t be able to take it off again.”

He didn’t elaborate.

He didn’t need to.

He didn’t wait for your response either.

Without another word, he turned and walked towards the darkened corridor beyond the door, towards the library.

He left the ring on the table.

As the door closed behind him, you stood in the silence he had left behind, not knowing what had shocked you more.

The fact that he hadn’t tried to force it back onto your hand...

Or the fact that part of you had expected him to.