Her Ring Was My First Bonus

The darkness outside the window was so thick it felt like ink, and I found myself staring at the empty skin of my ring finger, a pale ghost of where a promise used to sit.

Just a few minutes ago, Derek had stood in the foyer, hand outstretched. He told me he needed to take the ring to the jeweler to have it resized.

That eighteen-thousand-dollar band—the matching set—was something I’d bought three years ago with my very first performance bonus. I’d lived on ramen and coffee for three months to save for it.

"Resize it?" I’d asked, my voice catching. I felt a sudden, sharp hollow in my chest.