"Looking for something specific?" the jeweler asked, her voice as smooth as a silk ribbon.
As he handed over his credit card, the weight of the small velvet box in his pocket felt heavier than any gold. He wasn't just buying a pressurized piece of carbon; he was buying the courage to ask a question that would change the trajectory of two lives forever. He stepped out of the shop, the city air feeling sharper, the ring a silent promise against his hip.
"Something that doesn't feel like a transaction," Arthur replied.
Arthur stood before the velvet-lined altar of the display case, his reflection caught in the polished glass. For months, he had categorized love into four distinct Cs: Cut, Color, Clarity, and Carat. He knew the geometry of a Princess cut and the icy appeal of a D-grade stone, but standing here, the math felt brittle.
