Chapter 70

Chapter 70
Chapter 70: “The Ring Between Us”

Elizabeth’s POV

I wasn’t really snooping, at least not intentionally.

As I was folding Jackson’s shirts, something I had somehow started doing recently, I noticed one of the drawers was stuck. I gave it a bit more of a tug, and it creaked open with a soft sound.

That’s when I spotted it.

A small, black velvet box, tucked away at the back, almost concealed under a pile of papers and an old wristwatch. My heart skipped a beat. My fingers hovered hesitantly over it, unsure if I should even take a look. But my curiosity got the better of me.

I lifted it with both hands, as if it might scald me.

Carefully, I opened it.

Inside was a ring, it was simple, not flashy or overly ornate. Just… lovely in a subtle way. A slender gold band, delicate, almost as if it was made for someone who preferred to stay out of the spotlight.

It looked like something that would fit me perfectly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding the box. I stared at it for what felt like ages, questioning if it was meant for me. I wondered when he had bought it and why he hadn’t said anything until now.

A knot formed in my stomach. Was it supposed to be a surprise? Had he changed his mind about it? Or was it never intended for me at all?

I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I couldn’t just push it aside either.

Just then, he walked into the room, halting midway across the floor.

“You found it,” he said, his voice low.

I looked up at him. “It was just sitting there. I didn’t mean to come across it.”

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck and approached slowly, his gaze fixed on the box in my hands.

“It’s for you,” he said.

I blinked in disbelief. “What?”

He sat down next to me, his knee brushing against mine. His voice was steady, but there was a fragile quality to it. “The ring. It’s meant for you. I was going to ask you back when I thought maybe we could be something real. Back when I wasn’t so afraid of what this could turn into.”

I looked down again. The ring suddenly felt heavier, like it held more than just gold; it bore the weight of everything we hadn’t communicated.

“You haven’t asked me,” I said softly.

“I didn’t want to put any pressure on you,” he replied. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to say yes. I never wanted to be that guy.”

“But you still bought it,” I whispered.

“Because I knew,” he said earnestly. “Even back then. Even when I didn’t feel deserving of you and couldn’t find the right words to say it… I knew I didn’t want to lose you.”

The room fell silent, leaving just the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the thudding of my heart to fill the space.

“I really don’t want to feel pressured into anything again,” I admitted to him, my voice barely above a whisper. “But at the same time, I can’t bring myself to let this go if there’s a chance it might be real.”

He reached for my hand slowly, as if he were afraid of scaring me away. His thumb lightly brushed over my knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he replied. “I just need you to understand how much you mean to me. You’re not Pearl. You’re not defined by the headlines. You’re uniquely you. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears, but I fought to keep them at bay.

“I can’t carry a tune,” I said, almost out of nowhere.

“I know,” he responded, a gentle smile on his face.

“I tend to leave my shoes everywhere and sometimes forget to switch the laundry,” I continued.

“You also have conversations with paintings in the hallway when you think I’m not paying attention,” he teased.

“I really don’t want your love to come from pity,” I said softly.

“It doesn’t,” he said without a moment’s pause. “I love you because you’re the first person who has ever seen me and not thought I was damaged.”

I let his words linger in the quiet. My heart raced so loudly, I was sure he could hear it.

I glanced down at the ring again, picked it up, and turned it over in my hands.

“It’s not perfect,” I murmured.

“Neither are we,” he replied lightly.

“But I want to believe in it.”

My hand shook slightly as I slid the ring onto my finger. It was a perfect fit, as if it had always belonged there.

His gaze followed my movements, and he exhaled slowly. “Does this mean…?”

“It means I’m not turning away,” I responded. “It means I’m choosing to stay, not out of obligation, but because I genuinely want to give this a chance.”

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against mine, his hand covering mine with his fingers gently intertwined.

“I’ll be here for you. Every step, every moment of uncertainty. I’ll wait,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to embrace something tender, something stable.

Perhaps this is what love truly meant, not grand gestures or perfect timing, but quiet, tentative decisions made during ordinary moments.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

For now, it certainly felt like it.