XXVI/XXX. Diamond

The best thing about her is her ring. No, not because it is a diamond ring, but because what the ring symbolises. It symbolises of us, of her and I. Of the union that we chose. Of the life that we lead together, the life that is closely linked and tightly knitted together to form a bigger picture that we cannot see now. Of the happiness and struggles that lie ahead. Of endless birthday partys and baby showers. Of her life and mine. Of us. The ring becomes something that I secretly idolizes, not because it is the most expensive tiny handcuff I've ever came across (and purchased) in my life, but because it reminds me that I have fought for something, that I have fought for being with her and that I have fought for something that actually matter. I love her, not because she is wearing the ring, but because she prefers to.