The Date that Meant Nothing To Me

She handed the ring back, pointing to the faint engraving inside. I tilted it under the light, squinting until the tiny marks became clear. It was a date—not my wedding date—something entirely different. My breath caught as I tried to place it, but it meant nothing to me.

“This must be a mistake,” I murmured, my voice cracking. My fingers rubbed over the inscription as if I could erase it. “That can’t be right.” “Rings are sometimes passed down or altered,” the jeweler said. Altered? Inherited? Her voice faded as my mind churned. Could John have known? What could this date mean—and why was it hidden here all along?