I yank again on the ring on my finger. It still won’t budge, but at least my limbs seem operable again. “It’s fucking stuck,” I mumble. “Keep it,” he says quickly. “What?” I screw up my face. His brows are furrowed in anguish. “I don’t…know how else to apologize.”
oof, a constant reminder of him stuck on your finger. feels like salt in a wound
