What Wasn’t Mine

A chill crept through me as the truth began to sink in. The ring I had worn for forty years, the one that symbolized my marriage, wasn’t what I thought it was. The initials and unfamiliar date etched inside whispered of a story I didn’t belong to.

I stood frozen in the living room. This ring wasn’t made for me. The realization struck like a blow, leaving an ache in my chest. What I had cherished as a sacred reminder of our love now felt foreign—like a lie I hadn’t known I was living. The life I thought I understood was slipping through my fingers, one unanswered question at a time.