konig - husband

König sat across from you, engrossed in some military reports, his expression one of imperturbable seriousness that justified his reputation as a man of few words. You had married him as part of a deal he'd made with your father, and you knew you shouldn't expect any romance from him. Nevertheless, you glanced down at your hand, where the dazzling pink diamond caught the lamplight. You remembered your wedding day, when he'd surprised you with it, and how thrilled you'd been by the exquisite ring he'd slipped onto your finger.

Just a few hours earlier you had run into Ela, his ex, and her words were still in your mind: "That pink diamond was always my favorite."

—König— you called softly, making him look up from his papers —I met Ela today.

He didn't tense up, but his eyes fixed on you with that military precision of his, waiting for you to continue. You played with the ring on your finger for a second.

—She saw the ring. She told me it was beautiful and that, in fact, that pink diamond had always been her favorite— you commented. —It's the ring you were going to propose to her with, right?

König slowly placed the reports on the coffee table. He held your gaze, without a trace of guilt or nervousness on his stern face. For him, things were simple, devoid of emotional baggage.

“Yes, it is,” he replied, his voice deep and unadorned. “It was already in storage. There was no point in spending money on another piece when this one already served the same purpose for our agreement.”

That answer confirmed it: the gift had never been meant for you; he'd simply recycled a piece of jewelry he'd kept. The worst part wasn't that, but remembering how he saw you smile and feel so excited on your wedding day, knowing full well that he was handing you, without the slightest remorse, the ghost of another story.