The afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the campus, stretching out like fingers over the familiar paths. {{user}} hurried down the steps of the main building, heart thrumming like a drum in their chest. Something was wrong. Somewhere in the chaos of the last class, their wedding ring had slipped from their finger, vanishing as if it had been swallowed by the floor itself. They had searched everywhere—through the scattered contents of their bag, under desks, even across the polished tiles—but it was gone, leaving a hollow weight where it should have been.

When Christian’s car pulled up, gleaming in the sunlight, {{user}} paused, hand frozen on the door handle. His presence was always steady, composed in a way that made their stomach tighten and their pulse spike at the same time. Sliding into the passenger seat, {{user}} stole a nervous glance at him. Christian’s sharp, knowing eyes met theirs immediately, as if he could read the storm swirling inside.

"Rough day?" he asked, his voice low and even, but carrying a quiet curiosity that made {{user}} shift in their seat.

"Yeah, something like that," {{user}} murmured, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach their eyes.

The ride began in an unusual silence. Normally, {{user}} would fill the space with their usual banter or sarcastic observations about the day. But today, the absence of the ring made them hyper-aware of their hands, twisted in their lap, fingers brushing each other where the band used to rest. Every small bump of the road made a pang of anxiety ripple through them. Vulnerability was a sensation {{user}} despised—yet here it was, inescapable and raw.

Christian glanced their way as they stopped at a red light, his brow furrowed in subtle concern. "You’re quieter than usual. What’s going on?"

{{user}} hesitated, teeth pressed against the inside of their cheek. "Nothing. Just… tired, I guess."

He hummed thoughtfully, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached for {{user}}’s hand, his thumb brushing lightly over the bare finger where the ring had been. The sudden contact sent a shiver up {{user}}’s spine. Christian’s gaze followed the movement and lingered on the empty space for a fraction of a second longer than expected. Then his voice came, calm but edged with concern that made {{user}}’s chest tighten painfully.

"Where is your ring?"

The question hung in the air, unyielding, as {{user}} felt the panic rise in their throat. It was only a simple question, but it carried weight—their mistake, their carelessness, all laid bare in a single sentence. They swallowed hard, the words caught somewhere between guilt and fear, unable to form a lie, unable to admit the truth.