Because my boyfriend, Jace, had… stamina, our sex life was adventurous. We were always trying new things. To get me to agree, he’d murmur the same promise: “The second you graduate, we’re getting married.” I believed him. So I overloaded on credits, busting my ass to graduate a year early. At night, I secretly studied everything I could find—new techniques, new positions—all to keep him satisfied. Until one night, I was studying late, missed my dorm's curfew, and went to the bar to find him. I overheard him talking to his friends. “Jace, man, is your girlfriend really that wild?” “What, you think I’m lying?” Jace’s voice was slick with pride. “She’s a masterpiece. I trained her myself.” “What about Mia, then?” Jace took a long drag from his cigarette. His voice went soft. “She’s different. She’s… pure.” In that single second, I started to hate him. I went back to campus and called my professor. “That classified project you mentioned? I want in.” From this moment on, my life would have only one purpose. 1 “Professor, that opening on the Vanguard Project… I want it.” My professor paused, surprised. “Are you sure, Elara? Once you’re in, you’ll be in a secure facility. No contact with the outside world for at least five years.” “Last week you told me you were getting married as soon as you graduated.” I stood in front of my mirror, tracing the constellation of hickies across my collarbone. My smile was hollow. “Not anymore. From now on, I just want to serve my country.” Seeing my resolve, he didn’t argue. “The transport to the facility leaves in three days. You should take this time to say goodbye to your fiancé.” “You two are engaged, after all.” I nodded, looking down at the simple ring on my hand. My eyes burned. Yeah. We were engaged. My phone buzzed. A text from Jace. [Why aren't you answering? Come out. I'm bored.] The address was the same bar. I didn't reply right away. I opened my laptop, triple-checked my application, and clicked "submit." Then, I went to meet him. 2 “What took you so long?” Jace was slouched on the sofa, annoyed by my lateness. “Couldn’t get an Uber. Had to wait.” I lied, moving to sit next to him. He caught my waist, his grip hard, and tugged me back. His voice was playful. “Up. That’s not your spot.” It was like a switch. The whole booth erupted in laughter. “Yeah, Elle, that’s not your spot,” Jace’s best friend, Mike, chimed in, his eyes full of sleazy amusement. “You don’t get to sit on the couch. You know where you go. Jace’s lap.” The others joined in, their voices thick with implication. “That’s right. Look around. All our dates are where they’re supposed to be.” I looked. He was right. Several of the guys in his crew had women perched on their laps, all of them in tiny dresses. As I watched, the men’s hands started to roam, and the sound of short, sharp breaths filled the air. Mike, while kneading the thigh of the woman in his lap, looked at me. “Don’t just stand there, Elle. Take care of our boy.” I said nothing. My heart felt like it had dropped into my stomach. I recognized these women. They were regulars here, known for leaving with different men every night. And I was Jace’s fiancée. At least, that’s what he called me. I touched the ring on my finger and looked at him. I was waiting for him to say something. To stop this. Jace didn't even look at me. He just stared into his drink, pretending not to hear the humiliation in their voices. Finally, when the silence stretched, he let out an annoyed sigh and held out a hand. “They’re just messing around. Don’t take it seriously.” When I still didn’t move, he finally put on a show, shooting them a half-hearted glare before pulling me down next to him. “Alright, stop pouting. I’ll tell them to knock it off.” The party started up again. I sat stiffly in his embrace, my mind racing, trying to figure out how to break up with him. Suddenly, the door to the private room opened. Mia. Dressed in a white sundress, looking like an angel. “Jace?” Instantly, every guy in the booth shoved the women off their laps. Including Jace. He pushed me off his lap so fast I nearly stumbled. He was on his feet, walking over to Mia, and covering her eyes with his hand. His voice was all gentle concern. “Mia, sweetie, hang on. Let us clean up a little.” He shot a warning look at the others. “Get them out of here. I don't want Mia seeing this.” The room scrambled. Windows were opened. The women were ushered out. Someone even flipped on the bright overhead lights, illuminating the whole room. It illuminated everything but the darkness in my chest. So this is what it looked like when Jace actually cared about someone. I’d lost my appetite. I stood up and walked toward the door. My movement caught someone’s eye. “Jace! Man, Elle’s still here.” Jace frowned, his first instinct to snap, “So? She’s used to it…” He caught himself, but it was too late. He awkwardly dropped his hand from Mia’s eyes. “Mia’s just a kid,” he said, trying to cover. “She hasn’t been around this stuff. She’s not like you.” I laughed. It was a dry, awful sound. He forgot. Mia is a year older than I am. But I wasn't the one he cared about, so my feelings didn't matter. I walked around them. Mia stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Elle, please don’t be mad,” she said, her voice a sweet, timid whisper. “I just came to return this.” She opened a velvet ring box. Inside was a diamond so large it looked fake. “I saw the ring on your hand, and I just mentioned that I wished I had one too…” she trailed off, glancing shyly at Jace. “I never thought Jace would remember. He just… he bought me this to cheer me up. He said it’s a custom design, the kind they only make one of. I felt so guilty, I had to come and give it back… to you.” She said give it back, but her hand was clamped around that box like a vise. I looked down at the plain, thin silver band on my own finger. I suddenly felt ridiculous. Two years. 730 days. And all I got was a $20 silver ring. In bed and out of it, I was cheap. I took two steps back, and for the first time in our relationship, I didn't care about his "face." I pulled the door open and left. The room behind me was silent, then someone let out a snort. “Who the hell does she think she is, walking out on Jace?” “Shut up!” Jace’s voice was sharp, furious. 3 It was 3 AM. The streets were empty. The wind was cold. I met Jace two years ago, working a catering gig. He told me he’d never met anyone so "pure." He wanted a relationship that would last forever. I thought it was a joke. I turned him down, over and over. Until that New Year’s Eve. My stepfather, drunk, picked the lock on my bedroom door. I was terrified. I called Jace. It was a blizzard, but he came. He pulled me out of that hell and promised he would give me a home. I wanted a home so badly. In two years, he’d coaxed me into a hundred different fantasies, and with every one, he promised we’d get married. But we’d been "engaged" for six months, and I just now realized… other than this cheap ring, I’d never even met his family. Some engagement. Some love. Some… me. Tears blurred my vision. I yanked the ring off my finger and threw it into a storm drain. I’m done, Jace. I’m not marrying you. I had two days left. 4 The next morning, I was packing when Jace finally came home. He saw my suitcase and grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?” I didn't look at him. “Finals are coming up. I’m moving back into the dorm.” His expression relaxed. He slid his arms around my waist from behind, his voice dropping to that familiar, husky tone. “How long? You know I can’t last long without you.” I used to love it when he talked to me like that. Now, it just made me want to throw up. I pulled out of his grip and kept packing. His eyes scanned the room and landed on my bare hands. His voice went cold. “Where’s your ring? Why aren't you wearing it?” The rapid-fire questions almost made me flinch. “It got dirty. I took it off to clean it.” I don't know if I imagined it, but he seemed... relieved. He laughed, a casual, dismissive sound. “If it’s dirty, just toss it. It wasn't expensive. I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” Right. Not expensive. Two years ago, when he "proposed," we were in a hotel room. After sex, I’d asked him, my voice raw, “Jace, are you ever going to marry me?” He’d stared at me for a second, then reached into his jeans, pulled out this plain silver ring, and slid it onto my finger. No flowers. No audience. No bended knee. And I was stupid enough to think it meant forever. It’s hilarious, really. I zipped the suitcase. As I went to the bathroom to wash my face, my phone buzzed. A social media tag. It was Mia’s feed. She’d posted a video of a proposal. In the shaky footage, Jace, encouraged by a cheering crowd, was on one knee, sliding that massive diamond ring onto her finger. The diamond flashed. It burned my eyes. I refreshed the page. The video was gone. Instead, a private message from her. [Elle, don't be mad! It was just a joke we were playing last night!] [I don't know why it tagged you, I'm so sorry! We were all agreeing not to tell you!] [You're not mad, are you?] The taunts kept coming. Outside, Jace knocked on the bathroom door. “Elara? What kind of ring do you want? I’ll take you to pick one out tomorrow, okay?” The disconnect was so profound it felt like a physical knife, twisting in my already shredded heart. I took a shaky breath and called out. “Okay.”
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