I frowned at his back. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Can you listen out for Sash? She probably won’t wake yet but…”

“Yeah, of course.”

I turned on my heel and marched out, trudging up the stairs, wondering what the weird atmosphere was in the kitchen. As I walked past Sasha’s room, I peeked in, not seeing anything different in there. The walls were still a plain, cream colour; I could see no traces of white or silver paint anywhere. I frowned, now thoroughly confused as I made my way to my bedroom. As I opened the door, something on the wall caught my eye. A glittering, shiny thing. I frowned, stepping in and closing the door behind me as I looked at it. My lungs constricted when I saw what it was. Now I knew the reason Carson had white and silver paint on his hands.

On the red wall behind my bed, there were now several white and silver spray-painted butterflies. He’d obviously used a stencil, as the pattern was very intricate but exactly the same, repeated in varying sizes. The little stencils floated up the wall and off to the side as if they were flying in a group. They were crude; one of them had a little chunk missing, and one was a lot darker than the others – probably his first attempt at it.

My heart melted into a puddle and my eyes glazed over with tears. Butterflies were my favourites – as well he knew. I put my hand up, tracing the line of one of them as my teeth sank into my bottom lip. He’d gone to so much effort, just for me. I loved it. “What a cutie-pie,” I murmured, looking at the stencilled design in awe.

When I turned, something else caught my eye. On the middle of the bed sat a light-turquoise paper bag with the words Tiffany & Co printed on the side. I frowned, reaching for it and picking it up, curious. As I peeked inside, I saw a small square box of the same colour, with a white ribbon tied at the top. I glanced up, wondering if this was for me to open. Carson had clearly been in my room this morning painting, so if there was something on the bed then surely he’d put it there for me to find.

Curiously, I shoved my hand in the bag, picking up the little box as I chewed on my lip. Unable to stand not knowing what was inside, I sat on the edge of the bed and tossed the bag to the side, pulling the white ribbon from the box. As I lifted the lid, a smaller black box greeted me. My breath suddenly caught in my throat as I realised what this was. I had no idea how I’d not thought of it before.

Gulping, I lifted the lid, and there sat the most exquisite engagement ring I had ever seen. The diamond on it was huge and cut to perfection so the light glittered and shined off it. Smaller diamonds were set into the white gold band, making it look classy but not too overstated. It was perfection.

My hand shook as I reached out and touched it. Tears swam in my eyes as my finger touched the cool, hard band. “Oh, God,” I breathed. My eyes drifted to the third finger of my left hand as I wondered what it would look like near my chewed and unpainted fingernails. It was so incredibly beautiful – too beautiful, in fact. I couldn’t accept it. A ring from Tiffany’s was just too much; it had probably cost him a fortune.

That was when the irrational anger started to creep up on me. The fact that he’d just left the ring on the bed for me to find actually bugged the shit out of me. Deep down, I knew why I was annoyed – I wanted him to get down on one knee and give me this ring. This was just another thing which showed how disconnected he was to me and this marriage he was insisting on. The ring, casually left on the bed, hurt me.

Pushing myself up from the bed, I grabbed all the wrappings and boxes and headed out of the room. As I walked into the kitchen, he looked up from the sandwich he was eating and smiled at me. His smile made my anger dissipate immediately, and I fought hard to hold on to it and remember why I was annoyed.

“I can’t accept this,” I stated, placing the bag and ring box down on the kitchen table and folding my arms across my chest defensively.

One of his eyebrows rose. “And why’s that?”

“It’s a ring from Tiffany’s, Carson!” I replied.

He grinned, regarding me with playful eyes. “And you have a problem with Tiffany & Co?”

I sighed deeply. “Look, I don’t need this, all right? The ring is beautiful, but I can’t accept it.” As I said the words, I realised how much I didn’t like saying them. A conflict was raging inside me; part of me wanted that ring badly just because it was from him.

Carson shrugged and stood up, picking up his now-empty plate and walking to the sink. “Well, I can’t get a refund now; I’ve lost the receipt.”

I scowled at his back. “As if! You must have only bought it this morning!” I had been with him all weekend; this morning when I’d attempted to go to class was the only time we’d been apart.

He turned and a playful smile graced his lips, and all I could think about was flicking my tongue across his. He leant against the counter and shrugged. “You don’t like the ring then? I can get store credit; you can choose something else if you don’t like the design.”

I picked up the ring box and popped open the lid, holding it out to him. I kept trying not to look at it because every time I saw it, my heart stuttered in my chest. “Look at it, how can anyone not like that? But it’s too much, Carson. Seriously, this is just… no, I can’t.”

He didn’t answer, just walked over to me and took the box from my hand. I watched as he plucked the ring from the box and carelessly tossed the wrapping to the side. “I happen to think this ring would look fucking incredible on you,” he stated as he took my left hand. “So yes, you can accept it. And yes, you will wear it and show it off. And yes, you will love it.” I gasped as he placed the ring on my third finger, slowly sliding it all the way down to my knuckle. “And yes, it does look fucking incredible on you.” His eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Stop being difficult and thinking of the cost all the time. From now on, you don’t need to worry about the price of anything.”