Forever
Warm fingers glided over gold.
I smiled, for he had done this so many times, almost a ritual to keep him breathing. I always thought it was an oddity that even unconsciously, his hand sought mine, reaffirming that I wasn't somebody else's.
Grazing my skin, his calloused fingertips set me aflame. His touch, feather-light, drew patterns upon my arm, withdrawing Goosebumps on my flesh even on the warmest days of the summer.
Despite an interest in the softness of my skin and the ability to lose himself in the most intricate patterns painted from his fingertips, he was forever drawn back to that glimmer of gold.
He had found many ways to express his fascination with the ring adorning my finger. He would gaze in wonder as I ran my fingers through tendrils of dark auburn curls or press his lips to the cool metal in appreciation of its significance.
Not so long ago, his idea of what the ring meant was awfully far from mine. I was blinded by everyone else's judgment on marriage; the prospect of being caged in and belonging to a man. It was absurd. Kate De Vries could never be restrained. Little did I know, he also thought the same.
I feared that marriage would be the end, the point in which I am no longer my own person but a possession.
But when his fingers deftly trace my gold band, I think of the matching ring upon his own hand. I finally realised that I had the wrong idea all along. We belonged to each other.
I had once thought it a sign of possession, something I myself wholeheartedly despised. Though, when I came to bear his name and hear his vows of not capture nor restraint but of true freedom and never ending love, I lost the bitter distaste and found that matrimony was nothing short of the promise it notoriously held:
Forever.