The last time I'd put on this ring was somewhere near the end of senior year in Fairwood Academy.
I gripped the tungsten metal ring harder between my thumb and index finger, staring at its simple band design with Nolan's full name engraved on the inside. After I stopped wearing it, I kept it in my small accessory box and hadn't really touched it since.
It matched with Nolan's, which had my name engraved on it. It was something he'd given to me right before winter break in junior year, promising to love me forever. It took weeks for the heady rush of elation that enveloped me after being surprised with it to wear off.
I hadn't expected anything like that from him since we had only been dating for about a year at that point, but he really caught me off-guard.
It was supposed to be a symbol of his eternal love for me, something he expressed in clear, heartfelt words without a hint of embarrassment in his voice or body language. I had responded with a similar expression of love, declaring my intention to be with him forever.
Looking back now, I wondered how much of it had been the teenage propensity to relinquish all rationality and pragmatism to whatever intense emotions that overwhelmed us, and how much of it had been our serious consideration of the future that lay ahead of us. How much consideration had he given it at that time? I knew I had just shoved all those concerns to the back of my mind, figuring that we'd cross the bridge when we got to it.
I paused.
Had Nolan ever even been affected by teenage hormones? Although he had remained physically unchanged over the last few years, did it necessarily mean that his emotional and mentally capacity hadn't developed as well?
After we got together, he'd never once refused to answer my questions about his condition, but I could tell that he didn't really like discussing the potential differences between him and a regular teenage guy.
As a result, I didn't really ask too much.
My gaze fell upon the ring again.
Over time, the novelty of wearing a promise ring faded. I stopped wearing it because I was too lazy to take it off in the shower, and the added hassle of ensuring I didn't lose it whenever I took it off contributed to my eventual decision to store it in a secure location.
I had thought about putting it on a chain and wearing it around my neck, but again, it no longer mattered that much to me at that point.
I was confident and secure in Nolan's feelings for me. Our matching rings were merely the physical representation of our commitment to each other. Whether we wore them or not had no bearing on our actual relationship and bond with each other.
Nolan accepted my reason for not wearing the ring easily, although he continued wearing his for several more weeks.
I stared desperately at what was supposed to be a promise of forever.
Three more years until we graduated. Three more years until I was twenty-two and had a boyfriend still physically stuck at fifteen years old. He was supposed to be twenty-three in three more years. He technically was in the years lived, but there was just no way he could pass himself off as my age now.
Sixteen more years—probably even less than that—until I looked like some cougar preying on a poor, innocent boy who didn't know any better.
Was there really a forever for us?
I didn't even know if we had five years.
Why hadn't I thought more about this? Why had I been naïve enough to think that all the tomorrows wouldn't add up?
He had been upfront with me from the start about the challenges we would face. I was the one who chose to repeatedly disregard all of it as if they wouldn't pose a problem if I didn't think about them.
I had promised him I wouldn't leave him. I couldn't bear the thought of Nolan being left alone after all that he'd already undergone.
But how could I achieve that without separating him from every other part of my life?
Was I supposed to never take him home for family gatherings, or would I have to give up attending them altogether? Was I supposed to make excuses to my parents, who were bound to ask after him eventually, as to why we stopped taking photos together in a few more years?
Was I supposed to make excuses for his absence whenever I got together with my friends for the rest of my life? It was one thing to make excuses to friends I might make later on in life, especially since they wouldn't have a face to put to his name, but Ashley and the others had known Nolan since high school.
They knew him as a person and as a friend, and they knew that he made time for people he cared for. They wouldn't buy it in a million years.
My mind barely strayed to the thought of breaking up before it snapped right back. The tightening in my chest hurt so much that I couldn't even start to picture a future without him.
Leaving Nolan wasn't an option.
However, that still didn't address the question that would grow increasingly urgent with time: how were we going to move forward?
I clenched my jaw and shut my eyes tightly, leaning my head against the cold wall my desk was lined against.
Slowly, I slipped the ring onto the middle finger on my left hand, where I used to wear it in high school. It fit comfortably like it was exactly where it belonged.
It was supposed to be a renewal of my commitment to our relationship, to clear out all the lingering doubt in my heart. It was supposed to make me feel better, so why did my heart feel like it was being mercilessly steamrolled by a military tank?
Through sheer willpower, I snuffed out the tiny voice at the back of my head whispering that this was the beginning of the end.
I loved Nolan.
Love was supposed to conquer everything, wasn't it?
Nolan met me outside the dormitory building to walk with me to the cafe I planned to have dinner at.
I greeted him with a cheeriness I didn't feel, reaching out to grab the hand he held out to me. The moment he clasped his hand around mine, he loosened his hold again to caress the ring on my finger with his thumb.
Raising his eyebrows, Nolan lifted my hand closer to his face. He scrutinized my ring.
"Nice ring," he said.
"Thanks," I said, trying—and probably failing, but who cared?—to give him a coy look. "Don't tell anyone, but I got it from this guy that I'm totally into."
"What a coincidence," he said in a rare drawl. "I just so happen to have a matching one that I got to show this girl that I'm crazy for her."
I grinned. "Such a coincidence."
"Haven't seen it in a while. What's the occasion?"
The playful mood he'd put me in dissipated when I was confronted with the reality I was facing. How much longer did we have until it would look repulsive for me to flirt with him in public?
Actually, how much longer did we have until it was no longer acceptable for me to hold his hand in public?
For the split second that I entertained the idea of pulling my hand away, that there were other people walking around who could see us, my hand twitched in his.
But I couldn't let go.
"No occasion," I said. "I just felt like wearing it."
Why did his beautiful green eyes have to be so piercing?
Every cell in my body froze as he gazed at me, as if he could see right through me and my reason for putting it on. Then he dropped his gaze and let go of my hand.
"Hang on," he said, tugging his wallet out of his jeans pocket.
To my surprise, he pulled out a ring from the coin compartment. After he slipped it onto his own finger, he took my hand again.
I gaped at him. "You kept it on you?"
"Sure," he said. "Just in case."
Even I had stowed it away in a box.
"In case what?"
"In case I need to show that I'm not single." His tone was teasing. "Is that why you started wearing yours again?"
I mustered a feeble smile before burying my face into his arm so that he couldn't see my expression.
"Yeah," I said, not caring how muffled my voice sounded. "That's all."
