They Forced Me to Return the Heirloom Diamond—But My Wedding Ring Cost Only $9.99 Chapter 11
Tears rolled down Ivy’s cheeks.
“You said you would always protect me.”
Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver.
“I protected the wrong person.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
No one in the hall spoke.
Ethan turned to the guests.
“As of today, the Hart family wedding ring from two years ago is void. All anniversary
arrangements involving Ivy Ross are canceled.
Tessa Clark does not need to save face for the
Hart family. Everything the Harts owe her I will
make right, one by one.”
I looked at him. My heartbeat got heavier.
He handed the microphone back to the emcee and
walked over to me.
He didn’t kneel.
He just took a dark gray booklet from Liam and
held it out.
“This is what I missed for two years.”
I opened it.
The first page: the list of invitations I never sent.
Second page: photos of me trying on wedding
dresses that day.
Third page: a copy of the night market receipt for
$9.99.
Then, every Hart family event I had attended. Which table I sat at. What I wore. Who had been
rude to me. How I had covered for them.
And the things I actually loved.
Unsweetened almond milk.
Hating strong perfume.
Disliking being called “Mrs. Hart” without people looking at my face.
Liking thin rings, hating heavy diamonds.
I turned to the last page.
A blank card was tucked inside.
Ethan said, “I haven’t written the rest yet.”
I looked up.
His palm was tense.
“I want to ask you.”
So many people watching.
Ethan Hart who never said a gentle word in
public now stood under the brightest lights of
–
the Hart anniversary banquet, wearing a cheap
ring, laying out two years of his own blindness and
neglect for everyone to see.
I closed the booklet.
“Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“Are you doing this now out of guilt or because you love me?”
He looked at me, his eyes deep.
The room was so quiet that only camera shutters clicked.
He didn’t answer right away.
He took a new ring box from his suit pocket.
He didn’t open it.
“I want to answer that with something else.”
Ethan didn’t open the box in the banquet hall.
In front of all the guests, he closed his palm.
around it.
“That’s all for tonight.”
Margaret froze.
A small stir rippled through the crowd.
But Ethan turned to me.
“Do you want to leave?”
I looked at him.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“This is your family’s anniversary banquet.”
“I know.”
He held out his open hand – not touching me, just
offering.
“You don’t like these events.”
I looked down at his hand.
The $9.99 ring was still stuck on his finger. His
knuckle was still a little red.
I didn’t put my hand in his.
I just started walking out.
He followed half a step behind.
This time, as we left, the whole room watched. No
one from the Hart family tried to stop us.
Outside, the night wind hit my face.
My shoulders got cold.
Ethan draped his jacket over me.
Gently.
“Where do you want to go?”
“I’m hungry.”
He blinked.
“You didn’t eat at the banquet?”
“The food at your fancy parties looks pretty, but it
tastes like decoration.”
He was quiet for two seconds.
“Want to go to the night market?”
I turned to look at him.
His ears went pink again. He added, “The vendor
said the chicken noodle soup next door is good.”
I finally laughed.
Ethan watched me smile, and something slowly
relaxed in his eyes.
The car didn’t go into the old street.
We got out at the corner and walked in.
His expensive suit drew stares as he walked
between the barbecue skewer stalls and dessert
shops. More than a few people took out their
phones.
He didn’t hide.
The vendor saw us and popped her head out from
behind the stall.
“Hey! The young couple is back!”
Before I could answer, Ethan nodded.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
He cleared his throat quietly.
The vendor grinned wider. “Still wearing the ring?
How is it? Does it pinch?”
Ethan answered seriously, “Yes.”
The vendor laughed. “That’s cheap rings for you.
It’s the thought that counts.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
He said it so earnestly that the vendor laughed
even harder.
We sat down at the soup stall next door.
The plastic stools were low.
When Ethan sat, his long legs had nowhere to go.
He had to bend them awkwardly.
The vendor brought two bowls of chicken noodle
soup.
Steam fogged my eyes for a moment.
He took apart a pair of disposable chopsticks, wiped them clean, and handed them to me.
I took them.
“You never used to do things like this.”
He opened his own chopsticks.
“No one taught me.”
“Does Mr. Hart need to be taught?”
“Yes.”
He picked the cilantro out of his bowl and set it
aside.
I looked at him.
He said, “You don’t eat cilantro.”
My hand paused.
It was such a small thing. So small that even I
hadn’t thought he would remember.
Ethan set the booklet on the table.
“I asked Chloe. I asked the convenience store
owner. I asked your college roommates.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve been busy.”
He nodded.
“Yes. Catching up.”
I almost choked on a spoonful of soup.
He quickly handed me water.
“Slow down.”
I took a sip and looked at him.
“Ethan, do you know you don’t look like Mr. Hart
right now?”
He glanced down at the plain ring on his finger.
“What do I look like?”
I thought for a moment.
“Like a college boy who just started dating.”
A very brief, very uncomfortable look crossed his
face.
“I’ll take that.”
I laughed.
The meal went slowly.
No Hart family. No Ivy. No cameras or guests.
Just the noisy night market, steaming chicken.
noodle soup, and Ethan clumsily picking out every
bit of cilantro I didn’t eat.
When we finished, he didn’t take me back to my
apartment right away.
We walked down the old street.
When we reached the ring stall, the vendor was
packing up.
Ethan stopped.
He took out the ring box – the one he had never
opened from his pocket.
I looked at him.
“You’re not going to propose here, are you?”
He paused.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not that.”
I looked up at the night market canopy strung with
small bulbs.
“It’s nicer than the Hart banquet hall.”
The tension in his eyes eased.
Then he opened the box.
Inside was not a diamond.
It was a thin platinum band.
Clean. Simple. On the inside, two words engraved.
Tessa.
Next to it, a matching men’s ring.
Equally thin.
Inside: Ethan.
No giant diamond. No complicated design.
It looked a lot like the $9.99 ring I had bought
years ago – only better made, the edges rounded.
smooth.
Ethan picked up the women’s ring but didn’t put it
on me.
He placed it in my palm.
“Look.”
I did.
It was very light.
He said, “You don’t like heavy diamonds, so there’s
no center stone. You don’t like being called ‘Mrs.
Hart‘ instead of your own name, so it says Tessa.
You said you didn’t want the whole city watching.
so I didn’t open it in the banquet hall.”
He paused, his voice even quieter.
“This isn’t about going back to the past.”
I looked up.
He stopped the words on his tongue, as if
remembering that I hated certain phrases.
After a few seconds, he rephrased.
“I want to start over. Get to know you again.”
The night market lights fell on his shoulders.
The man who had sat at the head of the Hart
family table and said coldly that I didn’t deserve a
–
ring he now stood in front of a $9.99 stall, still
wearing that cheap ring.
He didn’t force the ring onto my finger.
He didn’t say any of the pretty, scripted lines.
He just looked at me and asked, very quietly.
“Tessa. Will you give me a chance to win you
back?”
