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v. five golden rings

I narrow it down to five rings.

I'd looked at each of the display cases– all ten of them.

Before coming into the store, I knew what approach I'd take in choosing a ring. To trust my intuition and pick the first ones that'd catch my attention and go from there.

I don't want anything too flamboyant, nor do I want something too simple. Still, it has to be perfect. A woman like Seulgi deserves nothing short of the best.

I'd scanned through collections upon collections, pointing out a total of five rings, all golden, by the end. Coincidentally, of course. 

The jeweler– the tag read Wendy– had taken them out of their glass casing and placed them on a velvet tray for me to see.

I'm grateful that she's patient. I suppose she's used to antsy hopefuls like me and does her best to accommodate them.

I take a good look at the five rings in front of me and try to picture each of them on Seulgi’s finger. I don't want to try them on in case I get biased, you see. Picturing Seulgi’s hand isn't difficult for me anyway. 

Hmph. I bite back the childish thought.

My eyes lock onto the ring that's second to the right. A gold band accented with small diamonds that connected the sides of the round center jewel. It had drawn me in the most.

I point it out to Wendy and she tells me that I have excellent taste. That's a no-brainer, I tell myself, just look at Seulgi.

Wendy asks if I want something engraved on it. After a while, I say yes, knowing Seulgi loves it when her belongings have a specific peculiarity that make them hers, and nobody else's. 

It's why I have a tattoo of one of her sketches on my body. A flower on my ankle.

No, wait– two tattoos. I always forget about the other one, where only Seulgi can see. Like a dirty secret.

I tell Wendy to have each of our initials engraved on the other's ring.

When it's done, she shows me the final product. I hold it between my thumb and index and admire the handiwork, feeling the letters with the pads of my fingers.

I return it to her, and before she can put it in any other type of packaging, say to her that I'll just take the ring with its small box.

Handing it to me as the transaction's done, Wendy passes on her congratulations and wishes me good luck. I thank her for all of her help and step out of the store to take a peek inside the box. 

With this golden ring, I'm going to ask Seulgi to spend the rest of our lives together.

The weight is suddenly overwhelming in my hands, and I gasp for air as I feel something swell inside my chest. Whether it's excitement or anxiety, I don't give myself enough time to marvel over it, bagging the ring.

Who am I kidding? Seulgi and I would get married with paper rings. I'm worrying over nothing.

I'm going to make it a Christmas she'll never forget. As long as everything goes according to plan, that is. Everything else was ready, and buying the ring had been the final step. 

One week to go.

I try my best not to stress about it on the drive home. When I arrive half an hour later, she greets me with the dreamiest smile as soon as the door opens and I almost want to propose right then and there.

It's hard, but I shake the feeling away. I don't want Seulgi to suspect me.

Thankfully, her soft touches on my bare skin make it easy to forget.