A Worthy Sacrifice
My first instinct had been to throw the ring onto the table.
Andreas held up my ring and finally noticed it looked impossibly pristine. He had never given me any gifts. This was the only one he'd personally given me. I had guarded it with my life, never letting it so much as collect a speck of dust.
Meanwhile, the ring on Andreas' hand had been worn so smooth that the engraving was barely visible. Those were my initials—I.W.
He carefully traced the cracks on the ring, and for the first time, this man, who had never shown emotion, broke down and wept.