He didn't just give me a ring. He made one, just for me.
It still hits me in the strangest ways. The thought that he didn't just hand me a ring one day.
He sat with his own hands, his own time, his own quiet wanting... and made one for me.
Like he took whatever he was feeling and shaped it into something I could wear, something I'd carry without even trying.
It wasn't grand or dramatic, just deeply human, the kind of gesture that sneaks under your ribs and stays there.
And maybe that's why it hits deeper:
anyone can buy something.
Not everyone builds a piece of themselves into something meant for you.
He sat with his own hands, his own time, his own quiet wanting... and made one for me.
Like he took whatever he was feeling and shaped it into something I could wear, something I'd carry without even trying.
It wasn't grand or dramatic, just deeply human, the kind of gesture that sneaks under your ribs and stays there.
And maybe that's why it hits deeper:
anyone can buy something.
Not everyone builds a piece of themselves into something meant for you.
22-25
