Modric’s POV
Mary Ann’s wedding ring was still on the bedside table when I left the room.
I stood there longer than I should have, staring at the silver band beside the place where I had held her hand during the night. The first time she removed it, she placed it in my palm and told me to keep it until I remembered what marriage was supposed to mean. This time, she had forgotten it again.
At least, I believed she had forgotten.
That did not stop the same cold fear from moving through me.
I picked up the ring and closed my fingers around it. Part of me wanted to follow her downstairs and place it back on her hand. Another part knew I had no right to force a symbol on her when I continued betraying everything it represented.
I placed the ring inside my coat pocket.
Then I followed Mar
