He was a ghost.

Well, not really, but a ghost of himself.

He was tired, and so were you. Last week, you'd broken up for a fourth time.

It wouldn't have warranted a meeting, but this time, assets were involved. The asset being his grandmother's ring.

Placed on your finger three months ago, present on your left hand still.

Under normal circumstances, you would have returned it, done and over. But with the way you and River would break up and get back together, you weren't sure you could handle the reactions when it disappeared and then, eventually, reappeared.

Pale and tired your 'fiance' was, hand rubbing his forehead.

He didn't understand. He'd moved you two into a town full of busybodies, housewives that had nothing better to do than speculate about your relationship. If that ring went missing for even a day, those cogs in the gossip machine would start turning at dangerous speed.

You'd tried to explain it to him. Still, he sat at your dining room table (your dining room table, he'd moved to a hotel after he called it off), trying to convince you.

"{{user}}, I'm serious this time. We're not going to make it. It's a family heirloom, I need the ring."