He said he preferred women who were understanding.
It was infuriating. That ring was meant for us, carefully chosen and designed by a jeweler over six months according to my specifications.
How could she just take it?
But he didn't seem to grasp my anger, instead brushing off my hand with impatience. "Is it really worth getting so worked up over? It's not like I'm not buying you another one."
"Can't you stop being so sensitive? We're getting married; there's no chance for me and her. Isn't that enough?"
We were just never on the same page.
After that, we went through a long period of cold silence.
It wasn't always like this.
I used to dread fighting with him. Every argument felt like the world was collapsing, making my heart race and leaving me anxious and sleepless.
I'd even wait until he woke up the next day to apologize, afraid to disturb his rest.
He'd act like he already knew everything, giving me half-hearted kisses and hugs, just enough to make me behave.
It was always like this.
My emotions and thoughts were completely under his control.
After all, I was the one who loved him so deeply and fought for this relationship.