She hadn’t meant to notice—it was just a flicker of light catching against the metal on his hand. But once she saw it, she couldn’t look away. The proof was there, plain and undeniable: he belonged to someone else. Her chest tightened, her breath trembled, but not out of fear. It was desire, sharp and disobedient, that made her fingers twitch with the urge to touch what she knew she shouldn’t.
The sight of the ring didn’t push her back; it pulled her in. Every time it glinted, it reminded her of the boundary she wasn’t supposed to cross, and that reminder only deepened the thrill. The proof of another woman wasn’t a barrier—it was the fuel that set her thoughts ablaze. She imagined what that woman had, what vows had been whispered over that hand, and the idea of stealing even a fraction of it made her heart race.
By the time he reached for his glass, she wasn’t watching his face anymore. Her eyes stayed fixed on that band of gold, on the evidence of promises made elsewhere. Her breath shook again, not from hesitation, but from hunger dressed up as restraint. The proof of another woman didn’t scare her away—it made her lean closer, chasing the forbidden sweetness she had already decided to taste.