your engag

and cutting, his gaze s

instinctively curled her fingers, hiding her hand from his view. She had

ng down on her, but she forced herself to keep he

raced as she fi

in m

er, but it felt like a confession

ed with something d

your

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to rein in hi

you hid

t wanted anyone to see the ring. Wearing it felt like an announcement she wasn

that she was already tied down, as if the e

jus

er voice barely

ryone to know I'm

e. Celine's fingers fidgeted in her lap, her eyes darting around the car, avoiding h

him. The fact that Celine didn't want to sho

on to hide a piece of jewelry. It mean

s to stay

ation. It felt like a rejection, as if she was denyi

mered beneath the surface, but there was something else mixed in-hurt. She didn't

hat's

is voice low but sh

u're still single? Is t

mained silent, her mind racing. She hadn't seen it

ther she admitted it or not-but his harsh words cut deeper than s

ing because you don't want pe

his gaze har

to think you're still f

mean it

n to her ears. She glanced away, unable to meet his

etending it wasn't real. But hearing him speak like that, with su

him in the eyes of others? And why did it

low tone as he spoke, his words lace

think about me or wha

ocked onto hers, sh

lation, Celine. You're going

s he continued, his gaze never leaving her. " I

t of his words settle, "Then

the kind of threat that came from anger alone; it came from his deep need to assert control, to

side her. She wanted to push back, to tell him he couldn't cont

om for argument. He was making it clear: th

o wear it-not now, not in front of him, not after everything he had just said. But the way he was lookin

ng. The sight of it, a symbol of a relationship she still

d her hesitate, his expression unreada

d, sharp enough to cut thr

avier than it should. It wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it was a reminder t

ips pressed together in a thin line. The silence between them fel

d to wear a ring that felt more like a chain. But the words were s