His wedding band cracked the day he told me. A crack right between our initials, which I'd had engraved on the ring for him as a wedding gift. It had been my purity ring, a symbol of the abstinence promise I made in high school. He gave me his purity ring, though a bit more tarnished, to use as my band.
He begged me not to leave him. A ring can be repaired, I said. So can a marriage. But the temperatures required to weld us back together are far hotter than a jeweler's torch. Will we survive, or melt down?
