I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO THINK

MY FIANCÉ PROPOSED WITH THIS RING—AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO THINK
When he dropped to one knee, I expected magic. My heart was pounding, my hands trembling. But then… he opened the box.

The ring wasn’t what I’d dreamed of. No diamond. No sparkle. No simple elegance.

Instead, it looked… old. Ancient, even. Intricate engravings circled the band, framing a smoky, almost black stone. It pulsed under the light like it was alive.

I forced a smile as he slid it onto my finger, but inside, something twisted. I couldn’t shake the feeling: this ring carried a story — one I didn’t know.

At first, I thought maybe he had chosen something “unique,” something personal. But that wasn’t it. The ring felt heavy on my hand — not physically, but emotionally.

It wasn’t until a week later that the real story started to unravel.

We were home, sorting through old boxes of his childhood photos to show his mom, when I found it. Tucked inside a photo album, beneath loose snapshots, was a single polaroid I’d never seen.

Zach. Smiling. Arm around another woman.

And on her finger — unmistakably — was my ring.

I froze.

My breath left my chest like I’d been punched. The symbols. The stone. It was the same ring.

I held up the photo. “Who is this?”

His face drained of color. For a split second, he looked terrified. Then he whispered: “Her name was Camille.”

His voice cracked.

“She was my fiancée before you.”

My stomach dropped. He hadn’t told me about a previous engagement. Ever.

“Why am I wearing her ring, Zach?”

He shook his head, eyes wide. “You don’t understand. She— she disappeared.”

“What?”

“Months before our wedding. No note. No goodbye. She vanished.” His hands trembled. “The police searched for weeks. It was all over the news. No leads. No body.”