The air tightened between us, thick with something unnamed—something ancient.
As if the very ground beneath us knew: this was binding.
I reached into my pocket.
Felt the velvet. The weight. The promise.
The ring wasn’t pretty.
It wasn’t meant to be.
Black metal, wrapped in silver thorns—vines twisted like temptation around a band that didn’t shine.
It absorbed light.
Just like me.
I took her hand—so soft, still trembling—and slid the band onto her finger right next to the engagement band.
It didn’t resist.
It slid on smooth.
Like it had been waiting for her.
The darkness clung to her skin.
A perfect match.
Before she could speak, or breathe, or blink, I leaned in. Close enough to taste the defiance on her lips. Close enough to remind her who stood across from her now.
“It’s done,” I whispered. “You’re mine. And nothing will ever take you from me.”
The officiant said something.
A final line.
A declaration.
I didn’t hear it.
All I saw was her.
Bound to me.
Legally. Physically. Spiritually.
Every version of the word belonging.
The world around us?
Forgotten.
Because the chains weren’t metaphor anymore.
She wore them on her finger now.
And I… I had never felt more alive.
