My husband came home from his annual fishing trip with a wedding ring mark on his finger.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the duffel bag.
Not the smell of lake water and cheap motel soap.
Not even the fact that he barely kissed me before heading upstairs…. Continue Reading ⬇️
It was the pale band around his left ring finger.
And there was one problem.
Mark had not worn his wedding ring in twelve years.
He had broken that finger at work more than a decade earlier.
Even after it healed, the ring never fit comfortably again.
We had kept it in a small wooden box inside our bedroom drawer ever since.
So when he reached for his water at dinner and I saw that clean, pale line around his finger, something inside me tightened.
“What’s that?”
Mark looked down.
For one second, he froze.
Then he laughed.
