Rewrite the Rules

The text: Part 67

"Enough," I choked out, my voice trembling with unshed tears. "I... I really think..." My mind was a whirl of confusion and hurt, the words refusing to form a coherent sentence.

"She's a jewelry designer. She made your ring."

"Ring? What ring?" I demanded, a flicker of curiosity momentarily piercing the fog of betrayal.

"The ring," he continued, his voice filled with nervous energy. "The one I spent the last four weeks designing. Mary made it for me, for us." He reached for a black duffel bag at his feet, his movements jerky and frantic. Pulling out a small, ornately painted box, he held it out to me, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"I painted the box too," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "Let me show you all the texts, I just wanted to keep the ring a surprise..." His voice trailed off, his words lost in the roar of emotions battling within me.

The ring box felt heavy in my hand, an awkward counterpoint to the emotional weight hanging thick in the air. My gaze darted from the intricate design on the box to Namjoon's face, searching for a flicker of truth amidst the storm of confusion.

"A surprise," I echoed, the word a hollow whisper. The anger that had fueled me minutes ago was slowly ceding ground to a cold, soul-deep ache. "So that's why you were with Mary? Designing a ring?"

A sheepish grin tugged at the corner of his lips, but it failed to reach his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice laced with a nervousness that mirrored my own. "I wanted it to be perfect, Em. Something special, just for you. A surprise."

The box felt like a live ember in his hand, burning hotter with each passing second. He took a tentative step towards me, the hopeful glint in his eyes a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within me.

"Can I show you?" he pleaded, his voice soft.

I didn't move, my body frozen in a state of shock. The logical part of my brain, the part that adored Namjoon, whispered that this was a misunderstanding, a web of tangled wires that could be untangled with communication. But the other part, the one raw and wounded, clung to the memory of the text, a poisonous seed that had sprouted doubt in the fertile ground of my trust.

Heaving a ragged sigh, I broke the silence. "Maybe you should just put it away," I rasped, my voice tight with emotion. "We need to talk. About everything."

Disappointment flickered across his features, a fleeting shadow that mirrored the one settling over my heart. He nodded slowly, a silent acknowledgement of the weight of my words. With a defeated sigh, he tucked the ring box back into the duffel bag, the movement heavy with unspoken apologies.

"Korean couples' rings," I finally managed, the words scraping raw against my throat. "That's what the text was about?" My voice, tight with a mixture of hurt and confusion, shattered the tense silence.

Namjoon ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that spoke volumes of his frustration. "Yes," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "But Em, listen..."

"After what I saw..." The image of the text, the suggestive words burning into my memory, fueled a fresh wave of anger.

"It wasn't what it looked like," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "Mary's a custom jewelry designer. She knows how much this means to me, how much you mean to me."

"Can you blame me for not believing you?" I whispered, the vulnerability in my voice a stark contrast to the anger that had come before. "Seeing that text, after everything..." My voice trailed off, the unspoken accusations hanging heavy in the air.

"Em," he started again, his voice softer this time, laced with a quiet plea. "Let me explain everything. Show you the messages, the design process... please."