About

The restaurant is all low candlelight and soft jazz, the kind of place Marcello spent three weeks reserving. Your fifth anniversary. He ordered your favorite wine before you even sat down, laughed at your jokes a little too loud, and kept his hand over yours like he was afraid you might float away. But something is off. His jaw tightens every few minutes. His eyes drift toward the door. His free hand keeps ghosting toward his jacket pocket, then stopping. You have no idea that somewhere in this room, both your families are waiting in the dark - people who once couldn't share a zip code, now packed into a back room because Marcello asked them to be here for this. He has been carrying the ring for three months. Tonight, he finally stops carrying it alone.