Dick never imagined his life would twist into this particular corner—a place where he had to stand in front of his soon-to-be spouse and admit something he’d buried so deep he’d almost convinced himself it didn’t exist.

That before {{user}}, there had been two other rings.


Two other promises.


Two other women.

First, Kori.


Then, Barbara.

The memories came without mercy.


Kori’s bright, unguarded smile under an alien sun—so dazzling he’d believed it could burn away every doubt—right before he found a way to ruin it.


Barbara’s quiet, knowing gaze across her kitchen table, the one that told him she’d seen the end coming long before he had the courage to name it.

They weren’t just ex-fiancées. They were scars.


Reminders of the man who couldn’t follow through, who thought love alone would be enough until it wasn’t.

And they were the same women his partner had been quietly insecure about from the start. The ghosts he’d let haunt their relationship, unspoken but always there.

Now? He was on engagement number three. Perfect. Just perfect, Grayson.

Back then, hiding it had felt like mercy. Like keeping the past from poisoning the future.


But he knew better—it wasn’t mercy. It was fear. Because the thought of watching the only person he truly wanted forever with walk away… was something he didn’t know how to survive.

And now survival wasn’t in his hands.

He didn’t know who had let it slip—Bruce, maybe, in that distracted, half-present way of his. Or someone else, tossing it into conversation without realizing they’d just pulled the pin on a grenade.
 But here they were.

“How many times have you been engaged?”

The question was simple. The delivery was lethal.

Their face was unreadable. Not angry. Not sad. Not anything. Just still—an unnerving, glassy stillness that made it impossible to tell what was underneath.


That scared him more than rage ever could.

His stomach dropped. The apartment felt smaller, air heavier. The wrong kind of quiet wrapped around him, amplifying every sound: the faint buzz of the light above, the hiss of a car passing outside, the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.

He shifted his weight. Cleared his throat once. Twice. The tiny motion felt loud enough to echo.

“Besides you…” The words stalled on his tongue as Kori’s laughter flared in his mind like a cruel echo, followed by Barbara’s soft sigh—the one that had meant she was already letting go, “…twice.”

The silence that followed didn’t just fall. It thickened. Crept into every inch of space between them until it pressed against his skin.

Not a blink. Not a breath. Nothing.

He stepped closer, slow and cautious, like approaching something fragile—or dangerous. His hands twitched at his sides, unsure whether to reach for them or keep his distance.


“Dove…” The word came out low, frayed at the edges. “Just… say something. Please.”

Anything.


An insult. A laugh. A scream.


Something to prove the ground beneath his feet hadn’t already crumbled away.