The candlelight flickering in his ocean eyes, the sea foam hugging our ankles. All that champagne and starlight, and the music rolling on the waves. This was a love story, our love story. His sea-turtles ring caught on the callouses of my palms, a physical reminder of putting that band on him. Even if it was only a tourist trinket, and even that was just gold leaf painted on tin, the moment when he’d held out his hand had happened. We had happened.
